How Ramona could become legendary: a moodboard & manifesto

An oblation to Bacchus

I was looking for brands that aren’t afraid to show a little personality, and that's when I found Ramona. Their copy had a pulse. Their visuals had warmth. Their founder, Jordan Salcito, has an origin story that resonates: a Master Sommelier breaking away from the traditional fine wine world to make something more accessible, more ethical, and a whole lot more fun.

Hell yes.

And yet something's still being held back.

As a creative consultant in my goddess era, I specialize in helping female-led brands step fully into their power. Ramona is teetering on takeover. You can feel the authenticity bubbling just under the surface, waiting to surge. The mission is powerful, the product is clean, and the vibe is nearly there. But it’s like someone keeps pulling the reins at the last second.

The Conflict: One moment, you’re reading: "Out of the cellar, into real life" and "If you don’t feel like climbing out of your bubble bath..." and you think, finally, someone gets it. This is a real call to a real experience and shows a clear understanding of who buys Ramona wine.

Skip over to the newsletters though, and we're greeted with a formal "Dear RAMONA Family," newsletter copy that sounds like it was written by an intern trying to keep their job at a tech startup. Pair that with a podcast that started in 2020 but quietly faded without a real chance to connect, and the hiccup disrupts the party.

The desire and intent is there. It's the execution that's hesitating to shed the filter.

Ramona wants to connect. You can tell. The product is the connection: organic Sicilian citrus, Italian wine country sourcing, low-ABV, zero additives, all in a can that doesn’t take itself too seriously. But the brand voice hasn't quite caught up with the ingredients.

The Solution: My suggestion? Don't tiptoe into the Mediterranean, swan dive.

Drop the white-space safety net and let Ramona become what it was always meant to be: a mythological homage to everything Italian, joyful, and beautifully imperfect. Let the soul out of the cellar. Let the goddess speak. Let the tiles crack, the citrus bloom, the language get a little sun-drunk.

Romona shouldn't just be the ingredients from the old country. It should carry the mythos as well.

I put together a moodboard of what I thought Ramona could look and feel like if it was ready to splash. It’s a permission slip. A nudge to remember where this wine comes from and who it's actually for: people who want something to love, not just "like a lot."

Ramona has the roots. It has the ingredients. It has the vibe. Now it just needs the voice to match.

Let’s give it one.