Olipop Shirley Temple A Modern Twist On A Childhood Classic

I have always loved Shirley Temples. If a menu had one growing up, I ordered it without hesitation. Extra cherries were non-negotiable.

That love never really went away. I just grew up and started reading labels.

So when Olipop released Shirley Temple-inspired sodas, my interest wasn’t passive. It was immediate and emotional, but also analytical. I love a nostalgic drink. I also live in the reality of wellness marketing, sugar awareness, and the way “healthier” versions of childhood favorites tend to disappoint. My brain wanted to know if this was a real moment or just another rebrand dressed in cherries.

We are deep in an era where people want comfort but also want control. We want fun, but we want it to fit into a lifestyle that doesn’t leave us feeling sluggish or guilty. Alcohol consumption is down, mocktails are up, and nostalgia is doing a lot of emotional heavy lifting across food, fashion, and beauty.

The Shirley Temple sits perfectly in that space. It’s innocent, familiar, and emotionally loaded in the best way. You don’t need to explain it to anyone. Everyone already has a memory attached to it.

What’s changed is how we consume it. We don’t just want sweetness anymore. We want function. We want ingredients that sound intentional. We want to feel like choosing a soda is a thoughtful decision, not an impulsive one.

Olipop’s Shirley Temple feels like it was made for people who read ingredient lists.

Olipop’s version feels considered in a way that’s very on-brand for them. The first thing you notice is that it’s not aggressively sweet. The cherry flavor is there, but it’s sharper, more restrained. There’s citrus that cuts through, and the overall experience feels closer to a craft soda than a classic diner drink.

This is not a Shirley Temple that’s trying to recreate your childhood exactly. It’s more like a grown-up interpretation of the feeling. The kind of drink you choose intentionally because you want something fun but also want to feel good after.

The digestive component is front and center. You know you’re drinking something functional. For me, that’s a plus, but it also means this isn’t a mindless sip. It’s a one-can, enjoy-it-slowly kind of drink.

I like Olipop’s confidence here. It doesn’t overexplain itself. It assumes the person reaching for it understands why it exists and doesn’t need to be sold nostalgia in neon letters.

This is not a drink you down in one gulp while scrolling on your phone. It’s the kind of soda you pour over ice, add a cherry for nostalgia, and sip slowly. It’s a treat that still feels celebratory but also smart, which is exactly the kind of compromise I live for when I want indulgence without the crash. For me, that balance is the biggest win.

I like that Olipop doesn’t try to replicate your childhood drink exactly. It respects it. It interprets it. And it succeeds because it doesn’t overpromise. It’s flavorful, it’s clever, and it feels like a grown-up Shirley Temple that still captures the essence of what we loved as kids.

If there’s anything I’d want to tweak, it’s the expectation management. If someone is hoping for the syrupy sweetness of the original, Olipop isn’t that. And that’s not a flaw, it’s a design choice, but it’s worth knowing before you pour. The tartness and fiber content also make it a slower-drinking experience, which might feel heavy if you’re used to soda in one gulp.

As a note, Poppi also has a Shirley Temple version now, but it takes a brighter, sweeter approach, closer to the original mocktail flavor. It’s lighter and more immediately playful, and while I haven’t spent as much time with it, it’s nice to know the category is expanding for those who want a fun, nostalgic drink with a bit of gut health behind it.

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At the end of the day, Olipop’s Shirley Temple is about translating a classic into a modern, thoughtful, intentional experience. It doesn’t replace the original, I’ll still order the classic when the moment calls for it, but it’s a smarter, more grown-up way to sip on nostalgia. Extra cherries, of course, still required.

Love,

Rae