George Clooney sold Casamigos to Diageo for a billion dollars. A billion. For tequila. And it got me thinking: did people buy Casamigos because it was good tequila, or because George Clooney's face was on the bottle?
Now every celebrity seems to have a tequila. Kendall Jenner has 818. The Rock has Teremana. It's become almost a rite of passage for the famous. But does celebrity ownership actually help sell premium spirits? Or does it create the exact kind of scepticism that premium brands can't afford?
I ran a study with six US consumers to find out. The results should give any celebrity-backed brand pause.
The Participants
I recruited six personas aged 36-53 from Kentucky, Idaho, Oregon, Indiana, Washington, and Arizona. The mix included a project coordinator living on $23k, a real estate agent, a nonprofit program manager, a stay-at-home parent, an architect earning nearly $200k, and a home health aide. Deliberately varied incomes and life situations.
What they had in common: they all drink tequila, they all have opinions about it, and none of them are brand devotees. They're the persuadable middle - exactly the consumers premium brands need to win.
The Hype Tax
The most striking finding was how consistently participants viewed celebrity ownership as a negative signal, not a positive one. They didn't see it as a quality endorsement. They saw it as a markup.
One participant, a nonprofit program manager, put it perfectly:
"Celebrity liquor usually feels like paying for the Instagram photo instead of the bottle."
That's devastating. She's not saying celebrity tequila is bad. She's saying the premium feels disconnected from the liquid. You're paying for the association, not the product.
Another participant, a stay-at-home parent with a household income over $100k, was even more direct:
"I'll take a sip out of curiosity... but I'm not buying it with my own money unless it's clearly better in the glass."
Celebrity gets you sampled. It doesn't get you purchased. That's a critical distinction.
What Actually Drives Purchase
So if celebrity doesn't work, what does? The answer was remarkably consistent across all six participants: sensory proof. Specifically, they want tequila that:
Is agave-forward - clean, peppery notes with agave character prominent
Is sippable neat - delivers a smooth finish without requiring mixers
Seems additive-free - suspicion of vanilla/cupcake sweetness signatures
Is consistent batch-to-batch - they want the same experience every time
One project coordinator earning $23k a year articulated it simply:
"Taste first. If I can sip it neat at a bar and it lingers honest, I'll consider it."
The hierarchy is clear: the liquid matters. Everything else - packaging, celebrity, story - is secondary at best.
The Transparency Demand
What surprised me was how sophisticated these consumers were about tequila production. They knew about NOMs (the distillery registration numbers). They asked about cooking methods - oven versus autoclave. They wanted to know fermentation details.
An architect in Washington with a $195k income explained:
"If they tell me how it's made, I listen."
The specific transparency signals participants wanted:
NOM distillery identification - direct proof of origin
Cooking method disclosure - oven versus autoclave, with oven preferred
Fermentation details - yeast strain, duration, vessel type
Third-party additive-free verification - not just label claims
This is a knowledgeable consumer base. They've read about tequila production. They know what questions to ask. And they notice when brands can't - or won't - answer them.
How Casamigos Is Actually Perceived
When I asked specifically about Casamigos, the feedback was consistent but not entirely negative. Participants characterised it as:
"Smooth and familiar" - acceptable for mainstream cocktails
A "safe choice for weak menus" - the default when bar options are limited
"Not connoisseur-grade" - rarely a deliberate premium selection
"Mainstream-fine for margaritas" - useful in mixed applications
The positioning has settled at "safe, bland margarita option" rather than "discerning tequila choice." That's not necessarily fatal for sales volume, but it's a long way from premium positioning.
Interestingly, ordering Casamigos at a bar sends different signals depending on context. Ordering it neat suggests genuine palate preference. Ordering it in a cocktail without specifying reads as either status-seeking or brand default.
The Cost-Per-Pour Calculation
Something that came up repeatedly: participants evaluate tequila on a cost-per-pour basis. One marketing-savvy real estate agent actually did the maths during the interview:
"$50 divided by 25 pours equals $2 per pour."
That's the framework. They're not thinking about the bottle price in isolation - they're thinking about what each drink costs them. And celebrity brands that charge premium prices without delivering premium experiences lose this calculation.
The Trust Hierarchy
When I asked about influence and recommendations, a clear hierarchy emerged:
Trusted: Bartender recommendations. Friend word-of-mouth. Local shop staff who know their inventory.
Ignored: Celebrity advertising. Influencer endorsements. Lifestyle marketing campaigns.
A home health aide in Arizona, drawing on Southwest tequila culture, was emphatic: he relies on "bartenders, church networks, friends" for recommendations. Celebrity holds no sway.
Values-driven buyers - particularly the nonprofit program manager - added another layer. They want to know about fair jimador pay, sustainable water and bagasse management, certified additive-free production. Celebrity endorsement carries no weight without ethical proof points.
What This Means for Celebrity Spirit Brands
If I were advising a celebrity-backed tequila brand, here's what I'd take away:
De-emphasise celebrity in communications. Lead with distiller and provenance. Let the liquid earn attention, not the famous face.
Publish transparency documentation. One-page sheets per SKU: NOM, cooking method, fermentation details, additive-free verification via QR code.
Invest in bartender education. Equip them with cue cards highlighting production, agave notes, neat-sip attributes. They're the real influencers.
Price to value, not to status. Align pricing to mid-shelf value. Cost-per-pour maths is the primary decision filter.
Enable low-risk trial. Bar "verification pours" - 1oz on the house - remove purchase friction. Let the liquid prove itself.
The Bigger Picture
What struck me most about this research was how transactional the consumer relationship with celebrity brands has become. These participants weren't impressed by fame. They weren't swayed by lifestyle imagery. They wanted to know one thing: is the tequila any good?
Star power opens doors. It gets you sampled. It gets you shelf space. But liquid quality keeps those doors open. Without sensory proof and production transparency, celebrity becomes a liability - a signal that you're paying for marketing rather than product.
George Clooney got his billion. But for the tequila brands following in his footsteps, the lesson should be clear: the celebrity gets you noticed. The tequila has to earn the repeat.
What the Research Revealed
We asked real consumers to share their thoughts. Here's what they told us:
The Rock positions Teremana as his personal passion project, not just a licensing deal. Does knowing a celebrity is genuinely involved in the business (vs. just lending their name) change your percept
Kaysee Prox, 38, Retiree (Independent), Rural, FL, USA:
Bottom line up front: slightly. Genuine involvement moves the needle a hair, but I still judge what’s in the glass and how the operation runs. Passion reads like marketing until it survives my checklist. What would actually change my perception:
Proof in the bottle: neat sip does not taste like vanilla frosting or perfume, and two pours do not punish me the next day.
Consistency over time: same profile six months later. If batch drift shows up, I’m out.
Sane pricing: no celeb tax, no dumb limited drops, no stealth hikes once hype builds.
Clear, boring info: where it’s made, how it’s made, and who’s accountable when something goes sideways. Spare me the inspirational monologue.
Owning misses: if a run is off, say so and fix it instead of spinning a story.
So yeah, him being hands-on could soften my side-eye, but it does not earn a free pass. Name on the label starts at a minus for me. Hands-on involvement maybe brings it back to neutral if the product and behavior back it up. Otherwise, I’ll still pick the quiet non-celeb bottle unless a blind taste proves me wrong. You buying for a house marg or for folks who are fans of the guy? Blanco or reposado, and what’s your price ceiling?
Sabreena Boring, 26, Sales Manager, Rural, VA, USA:
Short answer: no. Calling it a passion project doesn’t move my trust meter. I’ve heard that pitch a hundred times, and it reads like polished PR unless it shows up in the glass and on the receipt. If a celebrity is actually involved, cool, but it only matters if I see hard signals: cleaner taste, stable batches, and fair shelf price. Otherwise it’s still a celebrity tax in my head. What would actually shift me:
Blind pour win against my $30-40 regular.
Consistency across bottles month to month in my rural stores.
Straight labeling with real production details, not vibe copy.
Price discipline that matches the drink, not the billboard.
So yeah, “hands-on” talk by itself doesn’t change my perception. The product has to prove it.
Derrius Spiker, 30, Construction Manager, Rural, CT, USA:
Short answer: minor bump, not a free pass. Most celeb booze is a licensing sticker, so baseline is eye roll. If they’re actually owner-operator, I shift from “no” to “prove it.” Words are cheap. What moves my needle is proof, not PR:
Time on-site and real calls on cut points, barrels, and rejects. Not photo ops.
Clear specs on who distills, process, and an additive policy that isn’t fuzzy.
Batch notes and consistency bottle to bottle. Same nose, same finish.
QC data and someone with veto power saying no to bad runs.
Price that matches the juice, not the follower count.
If those boxes hit and a blind pour beats my mid-shelf or ties at a lower cost per ounce, it gets in rotation. If not, it’s just a pricier label. Net: genuine involvement is a 5% trust lift, not 50. Still has to earn it in the glass. Paying a “passion project” premium without performance is a $10 upcharge for a 50-cent upgrade.
Jessie Wu, 30, Data Analyst, Rural, NJ, USA:
It moves me from an eye roll to a cautious “okay, show me.” Genuine involvement beats a slap-your-name-on-it licensing deal, but it still doesn’t earn trust by default. How it changes my perception:
Slight positive nudge. If the celeb is actually signing off on cuts, funding proper agave contracts, and backing the distillery team to avoid cupcake flavors, I give a little credit.
But no free pass. Passion project talk is marketing until it shows up in the glass. I’m still judging on taste, process signals, and price sanity - not behind-the-scenes sizzle reels.
Tiebreaker at best. Real involvement might get it into a blind lineup instead of me ignoring it. That’s it. Win the pour, not the press release.
If The Rock is truly in the weeds, great - that earns curiosity. But my default filter stays the same: prove it in a neat sip and a simple 2:1:1 margarita. Otherwise it’s just a nicely produced ribbon-cutting with no buses leaving on time.
If you were choosing between Teremana and a similarly-priced tequila without celebrity backing, what would tip your decision? Does the founder's personal involvement in production matter?
Derrius Spiker, 30, Construction Manager, Rural, CT, USA:
If price is the same, the non-celeb bottle gets first crack. Less marketing tax baked in. Taste and transparency win, not a famous face.
Side-by-side pour against my mid-shelf baseline. Cleaner nose, no fake vanilla-candy, pepper finish that hangs a bit, not hot or thin.
Simple mix test: ranch water or a no-syrup marg. If it still tastes like tequila and not lime-sugar, it passes.
Label and specs I can trust. Who actually distills it, batch info, 100% agave, no perfume-y finish that screams additives.
Consistency and shelf access. If I have to hunt it or the next bottle drinks different, I’m out.
Price per pour. If it’s equal on taste, I buy the cheaper one. Every time.
Founder involvement only matters if it’s real: they spend time on-site, set cut points, pick barrels, and have veto power on bad runs. If it’s just Instagram and a hat in the gift shop, it counts zero. Net: Teremana only wins if the blind pour beats the comparable bottle or ties and costs less. Otherwise I’m not paying for a billboard on the bottle - that’s a $10 premium for a $0.50 upgrade.
Kaysee Prox, 38, Retiree (Independent), Rural, FL, USA:
Bottom line up front: all else equal, I pick the non-celeb bottle unless the celeb juice wins in a blind taste. Name recognition does not move my needle. What actually tips it for me:
Taste head-to-head: neat first, then a simple marg or ranch water. If I get vanilla cupcake or fake sweetness, it’s out.
Next-day feel: two pours should not punish me. If it does, pass.
Consistency and availability: I want the same profile next month, not some hyped batch I have to chase.
Label honesty vs hype: spare me the storytime. Give me clear, boring info and be done with it.
Price-per-pour: if it drinks below its bracket, it doesn’t earn shelf space.
Bottle practicality: fits the cabinet, pours clean, doesn’t look like a trophy. I’m not decorating my kitchen with it.
Does the founder’s involvement matter? Only if it shows up in the glass and the way they run the operation - consistent quality, sane pricing, and owning it when they miss. Photo ops and inspirational captions do nothing for me. If the non-celeb brand is steady and quiet, that wins nine times out of ten. You buying for sipping or mixers? Blanco, reposado, or anejo? And what’s your ceiling on price?
Sabreena Boring, 26, Sales Manager, Rural, VA, USA:
Same price, the non-celebrity bottle gets the edge by default. If Teremana wants the spot, it has to win a blind pour and feel like I’m not paying a celebrity tax. Founder involvement means nothing to me. I don’t need a behind-the-scenes story, I need cleaner taste and repeatable quality. A selfie in a barrel room doesn’t change what’s in my glass. What actually tips it:
Side-by-side taste: 1 oz neat, then a simple marg or tequila-soda. Cleaner agave, less fake vanilla, less burn wins.
Consistency: Can I buy it again in rural shelves and does it taste the same next month.
Price floor: Real street price, not promo hype. If they drink the same, the cheaper bottle wins.
Label clarity: Straight info on where it’s made and how. Real details beat celebrity talk.
Bottle practicality: Pours clean, stores fine, no heavy gimmick glass I’m paying for.
So no, the founder’s hands-on story doesn’t matter. Blind taste and consistency decide it.
Jessie Wu, 30, Data Analyst, Rural, NJ, USA:
All else equal, I default to the non-celeb bottle. If price is the same, why pay the hype tax. Marketing doesn’t make agave taste better. What would actually tip me:
Taste, blind. Neat and a dead-simple 2:1:1 margarita. If it shows roasted agave, pepper, a little mineral snap - not vanilla frosting and air freshener - it wins. Prove on-time performance in the glass.
Process signals on the label. I look for a clear NOM, where it’s made, and signs it’s not diffuser-candy. Longer ferment, traditional cooking, additive-free claims - those nudge me toward trust. If it’s from a mega-factory pumping dozens of SKUs, I’m skeptical.
Price behavior and availability. Stable pricing, not constant promo dumping. On the shelf when I need it, not a fake scarcity play.
Packaging sanity. Bottle that fits my cabinet, normal weight, no novelty glass. I’m not subsidizing a bowling pin.
Basic sourcing ethos. A sentence about agave supply and who’s actually distilling goes a long way.
Founder involvement? Only if it’s real. If the founder is picking cuts with the maestro, funding long-term agave contracts, and staying out of the blender’s way, cool. If it’s selfies at the still and a script about “craft,” that’s noise. I care about the distillery team and the liquid, not who flexes on the label.
When you hear that Teremana Tequila is Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's brand, what's your honest first reaction? Does celebrity ownership increase or decrease your trust in the product quality?
Derrius Spiker, 30, Construction Manager, Rural, CT, USA:
Honest first hit? Eye roll. Celebrity tequila smells like marketing and soft margins. Default trust goes down until it earns it. With The Rock, I expect clean branding, safe flavor, huge distribution, middle-of-the-road profile. Fine for cocktails, not a standout neat. If the price sits above solid mid-shelf and it drinks below it, hard pass. I'm not paying a $10 bottle premium for a $0.50 autograph - that's a change order for branding. What moves me: side-by-side against my usual mid-shelf, same glass, same pour. If it wins on taste and price, it’s in the rotation. If it ties, I buy the cheaper one. Simple as that.
Kaysee Prox, 38, Retiree (Independent), Rural, FL, USA:
Bottom line up front: celebrity label decreases my trust out of the gate. I roll my eyes first, taste second. My honest first reaction to hearing it's The Rock's tequila: here we go, another glossy bottle riding a famous name. I like the guy's work ethic, sure, but marketing is marketing. Most celeb booze drinks like a $20 bottle with a $15 Instagram tax. How I sort it out in the real world: - I sip it neat before it ever touches a mixer. If it tastes like vanilla perfume or cotton candy, hard pass. - Price-per-pour check. If it drinks below its price bracket, not worth the shelf space. - Next-day feel. If one or two pours gives me a headache, I'm not buying a second bottle. - I ask two friends who actually drink tequila, not fans of the celebrity. Could it be decent? Maybe. But I don’t grant benefit of the doubt just because a famous guy slapped his name on it. For margarita nights, I usually grab a plain mid-shelf bottle that’s consistent and leave the celebrity stuff for somebody else’s bar cart. What are you using it for - sipping or mixers? And what price range are you aiming at?
Dawn Lorang, 39, Office Manager, Bloomington city, MN, USA:
Honestly? My first reaction is an eye roll. Feels like every celeb has a bottle now, and half of them taste like marketing. That said, I do give The Rock a tiny pass because he reads as a hard worker, not a vanity project guy. But at the end of the day, I care about how it tastes in a simple margarita after the kids are down and what it does to my budget, not who’s on the label.
Trust level with celebrity brands: Slight decrease by default. I assume hype until proven otherwise.
Exception for him: Small bump because he seems hands-on, but still not enough to make me buy without a real rec or a good sale tag at the Bloomington shop by Southtown.
Big picture: I’d rather my money go to smaller makers than another famous person’s empire, but I’m not precious. If it’s good, priced fair, and doesn’t taste like sugar and regret, I’ll drink it.
Sabreena Boring, 26, Sales Manager, Rural, VA, USA:
Gut reaction? Eye roll. Celebrity label on booze reads like a marketing tax to me, so my trust drops right out of the gate. If the bottle’s sitting over mid-shelf pricing and riding his name, I assume I’m paying for billboards, not better juice. If it wins in a blind pour against what I already buy in the $30-40 lane, fine, I’ll say so, but it has to prove it. What I look at before I even consider it:
Price per 750 vs my regular - if it’s much higher, hard pass.
Blind taste at a bar if I can get a single pour cheap - no influencer fluff, just how it drinks.
Hype vs availability - if it’s all Instagram and no shelf consistency, I’m out.
So yeah, celebrity ownership usually decreases my confidence. Show me it beats my usual on taste and value, or it stays on the shelf.
