Every time I try to buy Diet Coke, the shelf is empty. Is there something more sinister afoot?Photo illustration The Globe and Mail. Source image Jim Young/Reuters
The first time it happened, I barely noticed. The second time, I wondered. By the third, I was officially suspicious. Every time I tried to buy Diet Coke at my local supermarket, I was met with a shelf hole as empty as the thirst in my heart. Was Diet Coke disappearing?
The reasons seem to be a perfect storm of corporate strategy, declining sales, rising concerns about aspartame, and supply chain woes including aluminum can shortages, sweetener scarcities, shipping delays and even customs hold-ups. One thing is clear: It seems there simply isn’t enough Diet Coke to go around. But I have a hunch there’s a more sinister plot afoot, one to totally replace Diet Coke with Coke Zero, which always seems to be available on shelves, right beside where the Diet Coke should be.
The problem isn’t just limited to Canadian store shelves. Not by a long shot. This thing runs deep. In fact, there’s a collective rallying cry on Reddit where Diet Coke enthusiasts from Norway and Sweden lament the disappearing of their favourite beverage, with this Lad Bible headline breaking the news to Australians: “Aussies are horrified after McDonald’s permanently removed Diet Coke from the menu.”
The cult of Diet Coke is hard to explain. I’d liken it to a warm – but icy, of course – hug on a hot summer’s day. It’s wildly addictive, thanks to the uniquely sweet bite of aspartame combined with that life-affirming fizz and a reliable caffeine jolt. And it’s more than just a beverage. It’s a lifestyle. A 2023 Fortune article suggested that Gen Z’s version of the smoke break is the “Diet Coke break,” a moment away from the grind, fresh air and a chilled DC in hand. A sigh of relief in the form of a fizzy sip. The newly viral term “fridge cigarette” refers to early-2000s bad habits, once rejected by Gen Z but slowly making a comeback, be it sneaking a smoke or sipping on a Tahitian Treat. Or a Diet Coke.
@reallyrachelreno time for a crispy ciggy in the summer @Diet Coke #fyp #dietcoke ♬ Cruel Summer - Taylor Swift
Deanne Marsh, a television producer in Toronto, says she grew up in a DC household. “Aspartame may have altered my DNA and I don’t really care. I used to be a heavy smoker and now it’s the 3 p.m. Diet Coke that gives me reprieve. The sound of the can cracking sends chills down my spine and if that’s taken away from me, I don’t know what I’d do … start vaping?”
What disappoints her most about all of this is that, like me, she is convinced they’re trying to sell us on Coke Zero in place of DC. “And they act like we’re crazy for saying it’s different. I don’t appreciate being gaslit when I just want my fix.”
And that’s what’s hardest to swallow. Originally launched in 1982 as a low-calorie soda for men embracing the fitness trend, Diet Coke never quite stuck with its intended audience. Some blame the word “diet” on the can. Women picked it up instead and made it a cultural mainstay. Then in 2005, Coca-Cola introduced Coke Zero, which tastes more like classic Coke and is wrapped in a sleek black can, to woo back male consumers. And it worked. Soon after its release, men accounted for about 55 per cent of Coke Zero drinkers. But what the execs failed to consider was this: Taste matters. I’ve sipped Diet Coke, and you, Coke Zero, are no Diet Coke.
So why do we love it so much? It’s cheap. It’s accessible. It’s a fashion accessory. Let’s not forget: U.S. President Donald Trump once had a Diet Coke button on his desk, summoning a butler with his favoured drink up to 12 times a day. He’d make a great Coke lobbyist, having recently demanded that Coca-Cola use cane sugar instead of high-fructose corn syrup. Mexican Coke uses cane sugar and has its own devoted fanbase. Trump’s request reportedly triggered a conference call with CEO James Quincey, who diplomatically said, “We appreciate the President’s enthusiasm for our Coca-Cola brand. We are definitely looking to use the whole tool kit of available sweetening options.”
For Daniel Klimitz, a TV executive in Toronto, there’s only one real option. He says: “I’m shocked when I discover a friend drinks anything else these days,” he says. “Diet Coke culture is real.”
Editor’s note: A previous version of this article included an outdated reference to an interview given by former Coca-Cola North America president Sandy Douglas about the future of Diet Coke. That reference has been removed.