Still a Margarita

How a Classic Became a Category of One

By: Eric Kozlik and Reece Sims

The Margarita is, without question, one of life’s most perfect cocktails. Sweet and tangy with a nice pop of salt from the rim of the glass, it has an almost chameleonic ability to thrive in any beverage niche. Served up or on the rocks? Whichever. Out of a slushie machine? Sure. You can elevate it to an art form and nurse it contemplatively in a high-end cocktail bar, or you can quaff it unceremoniously from a red solo cup while inhaling a food truck burrito. If it wouldn’t take much to convince you that there is a taco for every season, then surely, there’s a Margarita for every occasion.

Unlike other classic cocktails, which splinter into new identities with the slightest change (e.g. a Negroni becomes a Boulevardier, then an Old Pal), the Margarita stays firmly rooted in its name, even as it shifts in form. Swap tequila for mezcal, sub simple syrup for agave nectar, add strawberry purée or blend it into oblivion, and it’s still a Margarita.

Its variations don’t demand new names; they just stretch the original into new dimensions. In fact, it has absorbed many of its early relatives like the Picador, Tequila Daisy, and Tequila Sour—drinks that now live on mostly as historical footnotes to the Margarita’s rise.

Its unique flexibility rooted in the Daisy template, has allowed it to evolve alongside shifting tastes and cultural values, surviving fads, absorbing innovations, and thriving across every corner of drinking culture, from sugar bombs to skinny riffs, dive bars to Michelin-starred lists.

Act One: From Daisy to Dynasty

The word margarita translates to “daisy” in Spanish, a fitting clue to the cocktail’s origins in the Daisy cocktail that first hit the U.S. drinks scene in the 1870s. This classic tipple consisted of a couple ounces of distilled spirit, half a lemon, a small measure of sugar (often from orange cordial and gum syrup), and about an ounce of soda water. This drink style was served “up” in a stemmed glass, but it never quite took off because the fizz cocktail, another bubbly, citrus-forward drink, quickly stole the spotlight. But the Daisy wasn’t done.

By the 1890s, the Daisy had a fresh new look: the citrus, sweetener, and carbonated water were roughly doubled, the cocktail was served on the rocks, and bartenders began experimenting with more vibrant and colourful sweeteners like grenadine and orange-flavoured liqueurs. The Daisy quietly evolved into a flexible, genre-hopping format. Many of the structural choices we now associate with the Margarita were already embedded in the evolution of the Daisy:

• It could be served up or on the rocks

• It could deploy orange liqueur as a traditional sweetener or opt for something else

• It could be lightly or intensely sweet and/or sour

• And it could easily tolerate a range of service temperatures, effervescence, and dilution factors

Fast-forward to the 1930s and ’40s, when tequila began slotting into that same Daisy structure. First came the Tequila Daisy, often made with lemon juice and orange liqueur—nearly identical to the classic Daisy template. Then in 1937, London bartender William Tarling published the Picador in the Café Royal Cocktail Book, using tequila, triple sec, and lime (or lemon juice) in a recipe indistinguishable from many modern Margarita specs. Finally, the Tequila Sour, a variation that included a salted rim, was published The World Famous Cotton Club: 1939 Book of Mixed Drinks.

All three drinks were clear forerunners. But by the early 1950s, the name “Margarita” had begun to eclipse them. It started appearing in American newspapers, bar manuals, and party menus, right as postwar tourism to Mexico was booming and ‘exotic’ imports were in vogue. The name offered just enough flair to feel transportive, but was still easy to pronounce and remember. In the decades that followed, Margarita became more than a drink name, it became the shorthand for an entire category.

Act Two: Sweet Years & Sour Realizations

By the 1970s and 1980s, the Margarita had become a household name. Like many popular things in that era, it started getting aggressively sweet. American palates were shifting toward bolder, brighter, and more sugar-forward flavours, and the Margarita adapted accordingly.

The Cadillac Margarita is a prime example. This so-called ‘premium’ version featured reposado or añejo tequila, a float of Grand Marnier, and, more often than not, a generous pour of sweet and sour mix (which is essentially a shelf-stable mix packed with high fructose corn syrup and food-grade acids). Despite the high-end branding, the drink leaned heavily into engineered sweetness and theatrical presentation.

Interestingly, tequila was undergoing a sweeter transformation during this time. In 1964, Mexican regulations were relaxed to allow up to 30 per cent of the fermentable sugars to come from non-agave sources—usually cheaper cane or grain-based sugars. By 1970, that figure increased to 49 per cent. The result was mixto tequila, a category that could be produced more cheaply and often tasted smoother and sweeter, aligning neatly with American preferences for softness, sweetness, and affordability.

After decades of sugar-laden Margaritas, the 1990s ushered in a quiet rebellion. Health-conscious drinkers were growing wary of additives. Bartenders were turning away from shortcuts. And tequila was starting to reclaim its reputation as a serious spirit.

The shift began at Tommy’s Mexican Restaurant in San Francisco. Bartender Julio Bermejo had grown tired of hangovers caused by mixto tequila and overly sweet cocktails. His answer was a stripped-down version of the Margarita made with 100 per cent de agave tequila, fresh lime juice, and agave nectar instead of triple sec. No pre-made mix. No garnish theatre. Just clean, honest flavour.

This new version became known as the Tommy’s Margarita. It spread quickly across craft bars and high-end venues, thanks in part to bartender Tony Abou-Ganim, who championed it in Las Vegas and beyond. Even in its pared-back form, the drink was instantly recognizable. It didn’t need a new name. It was still a Margarita.

The Tommy’s formula marked more than just a return to freshness. It was a cultural correction. Ingredient transparency, spirit integrity, and intentional simplicity all became priorities. And once again, the Margarita showed it could evolve without losing its core identity.

Act Three: Still a Margarita (Somehow)

Today, the Margarita is more than a drink, it’s a format, a flavour profile, and in many ways, a blank canvas. It continues to morph in response to cultural shifts, personal preferences, and creative whims.

The early 2000s saw the rise of skinny Margaritas, driven by wellness culture and the popularity of low-calorie cocktails. These were typically made without triple sec or used alternative sweeteners like stevia or agave nectar in minimal amounts. Though stripped down, they still hit the familiar citrusy-salty profile that drinkers expected.

Soon after, a new contender emerged: Ranch Water. Believed to have been coined in the late 1990s by Austin restaurateur Kevin Williamson, it paired Topo Chico sparkling mineral water with a Margarita-like base of tequila and lime. While Williamson may not have invented the concept (ranch hands in West Texas were reportedly doing the same thing decades earlier) he helped cement it as a staple of the modern tequila canon. With its low-ABV, hydrating aesthetic and no added sugar, Ranch Water quickly gained traction, especially through the rise of ready-to-drink cocktails in a can. Its flavour profile may be cleaner and more restrained, but the bones are still undeniably Margarita-adjacent.

Then there are the mezcal Margaritas, once considered a daring twist, now just another house standard at cocktail bars across the country. From hibiscus-infused tequila to habanero tinctures, and tajín rims to salt air foams, the Margarita has become a template, used by bartenders as both a comfort zone and a launch pad. Swap the base, adjust the modifier, reinvent the garnish—the name still holds.

That flexibility has extended beyond Mexico as well. The global boom in agave spirits has led to an explosion of non-Mexican distillers experimenting with blue agave and beyond. From South Africa to Australia to the US Southwest, producers are exploring how local climate, water, and yeast affect agave-based spirits. Many of their products end up in what else? Margarita variations.

Meanwhile, the mezcal nerd community continues to push things even further. They're sipping ancestral expressions in clay Copitas and smuggling home smoky pechugas distilled with turkey breast or whole rabbits. They wax poetic about Raicilla, Bacanora, Tuxca, Pox, and Charanda, often evangelizing these spirits through the lens of what they aren’t: your standard mezcal or tequila. And yet, as drinkers grow more curious, these spirits inevitably find their way into riffs on the classic, further proof that the Margarita isn’t fixed. It’s flexible.

So what does the future hold for the Margarita? Probably more riffs, more reinventions, and more debates over what counts. But that’s always been its strength. From its roots in the adaptable Daisy, through decades of sugar surges and wellness waves, to its current role as a bartender’s favourite playground, the Margarita has never needed to stay the same to stay relevant.

It doesn’t cling to rules. It absorbs ideas. It meets each era where it’s at, whether that means a salted rim in a plastic cup or an heirloom Sotol shaken with clarified lime and finished with a smoked saline mist. Call it what you like. If it shakes like a Margarita and sips like a Margarita, it is one.