In a world full of brightly colored water bottles that swing with your steps and make you look like a koala when sipped out of, I was the black sheep. Here I was with my beige Simple Modern cup; it didn’t have a handle to swing, and I looked like a human when I drank out of it, but it was a great water bottle. Admittedly, it was a bit sad to look at, but it kept my water cold and held me accountable for my water intake. But the terrors of my FOMO got to me. All of my friends had Owalas, and I yearned to feel included. So, I bit the bullet and hit “purchase” on a 32-oz ‘Coastal Mist’ bottle. Little did I know, I would be spending the next couple of weeks wishing I stayed true to my sad, little bottle.
Aside from feeling excluded, I wanted to make the switch from my Simple Modern to an Owala because, unlike Owalas, Simple Modern tumblers contain an exposed straw. As someone who is always on-the-go, I became concerned that my straw was collecting the contaminated air of the many places I ventured to day-to-day. I was excited to convert to an Owala because it appeared to utilize a strong structural design that happened to include a built-in straw.
Immediately upon receiving the water bottle, my assumptions were confirmed. Externally, Owala has a trustworthy design. It’s sleek, slim, and finds a way to complement a person’s energy regardless of their personal aesthetic. Internally, however, I have found it to be a completely different story.
Instead of having an exposed straw, Owala contains a built-in straw with a separate opening meant for “swigging” rather than “sipping.” To get drinking, you click a button that makes the cap spring up like a jack-in-the-box. The flipping lid cap is one of the main marketing pulls Owala uses to reach consumers.
That tactic worked on me. I was so excited to hear that “click” and drink out of the bottle like a small forest animal. When I first got the bottle, I heard the click and sipped as usual. After just a handful of uses, however, the “click” sound was delayed. The lid no longer immediately flipped open upon clicking the button; instead, it started taking a solid eight seconds before it finally popped up. Waiting eight seconds to take a sip of water is nowhere near the end of the world, but having to do so due to poor industrial quality is frustrating.
When I first started noticing this happening, I bit my tongue and took it as a sign that I had to practice patience. When I would finally go to sip, however many times, I was literally taking in nothingness. The straw is constantly falling out of its opening, stopping water from coming through, and requiring me to keep reopening the bottle to secure it in place. Owala’s “swig” feature sounds like it would be useful in moments like these, but its weirdly large opening makes it feel awkward to drink out of.
It wasn’t long until its external design started working against me, too. Owalas contain a slim design, which is great for convenience and comfort. It’s not so great when you find yourself struggling to shove ice into its small pocket. Because my Owala doesn’t fit as much ice as my Simple Modern did, and I don’t have it in me to make it try to, my water isn’t as cold. This has been the biggest sacrifice I’ve had to make, since my Simple Modern spoiled me with water cold enough to freeze the Atlantic.
Another reason Owala’s slimness has become an issue for me is that even though it holds an impressive 32 ounces of water, its shape makes it feel smaller than it is. This has somehow wired my brain to make me avoid drinking from my tumbler, which has caused me to consume significantly less water. I’m well aware that this probably isn’t a universal experience, but the inner workings of my brain have created this reality.
This may come as a shock given my list of grievances, but I’m not getting rid of my Owala. It mainly boils down to the fact that not only was it an expensive purchase, but it also ultimately serves its purpose in holding water. I’m also not willing to let go of the community it gives my friends and me, who refuse to convert despite my plea.
At the end of the day, I’m not immune to the fact that it’s simply just a water bottle. It doesn’t erase my frustrations, however, in that it took working through the travesties of my Owala to learn that a cloud-shaped topper on my Simple Modern would have solved all of my first-world problems.