Fact: Juice is tasty. Lemonade on a hot mid-summer day, a pitcher of fresh OJ at Sunday brunch, POG and white rum on ice. But consuming nothing but juice for five or six days? That seems a little, I dunno, totally insane.
Those hip to the practice call it a juice cleanse, and they describe the light, energetic glow it provides in the same terms the rest of us reserve for illicit substances or orgasms.
People have been cleansing or fasting for health and spiritual clarity for centuries. There are stacks of books about it. But the practice often gets mixed up with religious dogma or hairy hippie hogwash that turns most people off.
So the marketing around BluePrint Cleanse is kind of brilliant. It’s aimed at neo-crunchy urban types, the people who dabble in yoga, drink from Klean Kanteens and frequent the sandwich counter at Whole Foods, but who stop short of extremes like Reiki, veganism and Phish tour.
Essentially, the BluePrint Cleanse provides an easy path into the world of juice-as-enlightenment. Secular, cash-positive individuals without the knowledge, time or kitchen appliances necessary to do a juice cleanse themselves will consider it a fun adventure. The website is filled with crisp, hip copy and gentle FAQs. They send you encouraging e-mails while you’re juicing. They’re on Twitter. They’re from Brooklyn. I’m surprised there isn’t an iPhone app.
BluePrint Cleanse offers several different programs, most of them involving six bottles of juice per day. The bottles are delivered to your home or your office in the mornings in a box stuffed with freezer packs. It is expensive though, between $65 and $90 per day — and much of high price comes from shipping costs. But the convenience of having your juices show up in front of you first thing in the morning makes it much harder to cave and eat a bagel.