The rise and fall of the Mason jar

You've peaked, charmingly functional glass

When American tinsmith John Landis Mason patented the screw-on lid fruit jar in the late 1800s he probably could have never, no matter how many hours he sat staring at its charmingly functional soda-lime glass chamber stroking his luxuriant beard, have guessed that a century later they would transcend their use of stopping apricots from going to shit to become the receptacle for '9 ½ pounds' (£9) worth of "Huckleberry Smash" or "Gatsby's Rum Tickle" in a high-end bar.

They were for preserving food stuffs for times of economic hardship goddamn it, not for some bar owner to string low-wattage filament bulbs through and instantly earn the right to call the place a speakeasy.

The bar scene appears to have reached Mason jar saturation point in the last year, with pretty much every long drink now being served in the Instagram-ready containers, simply because of their sheer humbleness.

The Mason jar says "Hey, I ain't no fancy high ball glass, drink from me and no-one will judge you for not ordering the more rugged house craft beer, hell I'm probably still a little dusty and smell faintly of sardines but that just adds to the experience.

"Look at you! You look like a knavish bootlegger off Boardwalk Empire right now!"

eBay: At least 97% Mason jars (eBay)

Being adapted to include a beer stein-esque handle in recent years it also helps market fruity cocktails at men with traditional views on masculinity who might otherwise feel threatened by a tall glistening Piña Colada, being all like "I know you could unscrew my lid if it hadn't already been harvested to make DIY wind chimes... you know what, I bet you could tear the whole damn corrugated roof off this prohibition bar couldn’t you, muscles?"

But have we reached peak Mason jar? Taking Breaking Bad memorabilia as an example, the rule of thumb is usually that when it can be imported in bulk from China on eBay its coolness is over, and this is certainly the case with Mason jars, the e-sellers of which are probably sitting on vast mounds of cash right now laughing maniacally and pouring jars of "Royal Dandelion Gin Cup" and "Bluebeard's Cobbler" and "Shaky Exmouth Bicycle" all over their chests.

And if further proof of their crossover into the mainstream (and subsequent death) were needed, this tweet ought to do it:

It was inevitable really, at a time when KFC serves pulled chicken and Wetherspoon's servers will smile and oblige rather than pull a shotgun out from under the counter when you order a winter fruits cider, but what will the disposable income-slinging barfly drink from next? The slightly less practical but possibly even more appealingly earnest Kilner jar? A trophy? The sterilised skulls of jackdaws? The answer is out there and its worth sacks of cash. Rustic, hessian sacks.