Wrigley, for a century the Goliath of gum, has found its David in Altoids, whose irreverent ads transformed it from a forgotten, two-centuries-old British breath mint into a must-have accessory in today’s hip cigar and coffee society. Altoids, owned by Philip Morris, have become so hot they’ve inspired a swarm of breath-deodorizing imitators. Now Wrigley is wading in with Eclipse, which debuted this summer and is its first new gum in five years. Shaped like a tiny white tablet, Eclipse is really a mint masquerading as a gum. And it aims to get back some of the business lost to the supercharged mints and high-intensity gums like Dentyne Ice. Mint sales have soared by 40 percent in the last five years, while the $1 billion gum market has been as flat as a stick of Juicy Fruit. The impact on Wrigley has been disastrous: its stock has plunged 30 percent since February. Says Prudential Securities’ John McMillin: “The company is in a slump and needs a base hit.”
Enter Eclipse. The gum pellet acts like a mint because its hard coating creates a flavor burst with the first bite, which Wrigley indelicately promises will “eliminate strong mouth odors.” A $15 million ad blitz portrays Eclipse as an antidote to fouling your breath with everything from coffee to Cajun. Still, Wrigley’s jingly commercials are nothing like Altoid’s wry ads, which since 1995 have redefined the mints with slogans like “Tongue-piercing is nothing new” and “Pleasure in pain.” Sniffs Altoids adman Steffan Postaer of Leo Burnett: “Our ads talk to smart, cynical people in a way that has nothing to do with ‘It freshens your breath’.”
Wrigley has spent a century cultivating a wholesome image and can never hope to be as hip as Altoids. The conservative company, run by the founder’s great-grandson, was slow to realize that old standbys like Doublemint were no match for the sinus-clearing strength of peppermints. But analysts say Wrigley’s $125 million annual ad budget and enviable distribution give it promotional muscle as powerful as any mint. “In this market, what matters is who has the most bucks,” says Bob Messenger, editor of Food Trends newsletter. And it doesn’t hurt that Eclipse costs 79 cents, while Altoids sells for $2. That’s why in the battle over bad breath, Wrigley is still hoping to clean up.
