noun : a fantastic but vain hope (from fantasies induced by the opium pipe)
Picture this: a town centre in the leafy suburbia of West London. Prêt-A-Manger: check. Costa: check check. Caffè Nero: ditto. Starbucks: triple check. Meanwhile, I can count the number of independent coffee shops on my left hand, whilst shading my eyes with my right I can peer up at banners encouraging me to ‘Shop Local’, and support independent businesses in favour of falling prey to the ever-expanding commercial chains. In my case, I like to think this is an unnecessary gesture: I’ve long since prided myself on the fact that I boycott Starbucks, owing mainly to the fact that you can walk less than 200 metres and encounter not one, not two, but three franchises, all permanently filled, amongst others, with over-excited pre-teens, smugly clutching their ‘coffees’ (milkshakes in disguise). On my way to work at an independent coffee shop, I walk past the queue of city workers outside Starbucks overflowing on to the pavement with two emotions competing for dominance: pity, that these clones have been ensnared by the familiarity, convenience, and marketing of commercial chains, and perhaps a sense of elitism, whilst I retreat to my coffee shop, where I believe a real sense of community can be found.
‘Community’ and ‘society’, those notoriously, abstract concepts, cannot be measured quantitatively; they must be experienced
Having worked at The Electric Coffee Company for just under a year, anyone thinking that the independent coffee shop is nothing but a hipster pipe fantasy is – perhaps understandably, especially if we work on numbers alone – mistaken. ‘Community’ and ‘society’, those notoriously, abstract concepts, cannot be measured quantitatively; they must be experienced. “The usual sourdough, two butters, Paul?” And there comes the other Paul, who doesn’t even need to state his order. Granted, at peak-times, there is little time for idle chit-chat, but when the tide ebbs, the regulars engage with me, a lowly waitress, inviting me to meet their daughter – “she goes to your school, you know, always sees you in the Art Department” – or asking me for recommendations on today’s specials. This sense of an extended family doesn’t end at the end of my shift though; I welcome nods of acknowledgement and smiles of recognition throughout the week as we conduct our day-to-day affairs around our local town. Clearly, the independent café still has its place as a nucleus of society, a pivot around which we all lead our own lives, but are drawn back to time after time in a place that is neither work nor home; it is simply ‘The Café’.
However, despite this somewhat romantic vision of the Independent Coffee Shop, it is undeniable that some of these traits are not unique. Whilst the décor and menu of chain equivalents may at times seem monotonous and, if I’m feeling particularly world-weary and cynical, resemble a clone-like science-fiction world where orders are made and received without interaction, the chain café is far from such a dystopia. Many a time I have met an old friend at Prêt, for our tri-annual catch-up; the baristas at Caffè Nero are beginning to recognize me. Last visit, I quietly watched a group of friends reunite for their weekly reunion; beside me, a student sat with a French national for private language lessons. What is this, if not the same foundations upon which the independents are built? Fundamentally, the bread and butter of chain cafés and local businesses are the same: to sell good coffee, and to provide an environment that is neither work nor home in which people can interact, or enjoy their own solitary pass-times yet still feel integrated in the community.
Additionally, the chain store offers opportunities unavailable to the self-governing option: workers (or ‘Partners’, as I should call them) at Starbucks have access to pensions, work benefits, ranging from free coffee or tea to take home each week to help accessing that once-in-a-lifetime holiday, as well as plentiful opportunities to move up the hierarchy. The US division goes one better, offering extensive healthcare insurance. Recognition and praise are also integral features of the chain store’s manifesto, such as Caffè Nero’s ‘best barista of the year’ award (currently located at the London Euston branch, if you’re interested); whilst pessimists will see this as a way of quashing any rebellious behavior, or a patronizing way of placating the dissatisfied worker into submission, I feel that signs of approval or commendation help to create a healthy, happy working environment where employees feel respected and may even enjoy their work.
Despite this, I am proud to have worked there; I don’t bear any grudges. Its renown exceeds the borough’s borders, and is one of the only independent coffee shops found this far out of central London to be listed in the prestigious London Coffee Guide, a commendation I will repeat gladly. My loyalty to the café persists, and I’ll always point it out to friends and family new to the area. However, whilst I might defend the Independent Coffee Shop as one-off, unique, and original, they nonetheless have to compete with the market leaders, and how best to do some but learn from their example? Beneath the distinctive, one-of-a-kind exterior, like the use of Lyle’s golden syrup cans for table numbers, or the commission of local artists for wall art, there are numerous similarities between the two rival factions: the menu, the wooden serving boards, the uniform…
However, despite this somewhat romantic vision of the Independent Coffee Shop, it is undeniable that some of these traits are not unique. Whilst the décor and menu of chain equivalents may at times seem monotonous and, if I’m feeling particularly world-weary and cynical, resemble a clone-like science-fiction world where orders are made and received without interaction, the chain café is far from such a dystopia. Many a time I have met an old friend at Prêt, for our tri-annual catch-up; the baristas at Caffè Nero are beginning to recognize me. Last visit, I quietly watched a group of friends reunite for their weekly reunion; beside me, a student sat with a French national for private language lessons. What is this, if not the same foundations upon which the independents are built? Fundamentally, the bread and butter of chain cafés and local businesses are the same: to sell good coffee, and to provide an environment that is neither work nor home in which people can interact, or enjoy their own solitary pass-times yet still feel integrated in the community.
Additionally, the chain store offers opportunities unavailable to the self-governing option: workers (or ‘Partners’, as I should call them) at Starbucks have access to pensions, work benefits, ranging from free coffee or tea to take home each week to help accessing that once-in-a-lifetime holiday, as well as plentiful opportunities to move up the hierarchy. The US division goes one better, offering extensive healthcare insurance. Recognition and praise are also integral features of the chain store’s manifesto, such as Caffè Nero’s ‘best barista of the year’ award (currently located at the London Euston branch, if you’re interested); whilst pessimists will see this as a way of quashing any rebellious behavior, or a patronizing way of placating the dissatisfied worker into submission, I feel that signs of approval or commendation help to create a healthy, happy working environment where employees feel respected and may even enjoy their work.
Despite this, I am proud to have worked there; I don’t bear any grudges. Its renown exceeds the borough’s borders, and is one of the only independent coffee shops found this far out of central London to be listed in the prestigious London Coffee Guide, a commendation I will repeat gladly. My loyalty to the café persists, and I’ll always point it out to friends and family new to the area. However, whilst I might defend the Independent Coffee Shop as one-off, unique, and original, they nonetheless have to compete with the market leaders, and how best to do some but learn from their example? Beneath the distinctive, one-of-a-kind exterior, like the use of Lyle’s golden syrup cans for table numbers, or the commission of local artists for wall art, there are numerous similarities between the two rival factions: the menu, the wooden serving boards, the uniform…
our clientele comprised primarily the middle-class, ‘artsy’ and ‘cultured’ type, the type that can afford to pay that little bit extra.
And yet, although I proclaim myself to be a fervent backer of the Independent Coffee Shop, I confess that on a weekly basis, my sister and I make our pilgrimage to one of our Caffè Neros, where we take advantage of the super comfy sofas and tub chairs, free wi-fi, and look forward to getting our tenth drink free. Why do I choose the chain over the local? Is it a question of price? Without the umbrella support of national company, small businesses irrefutably have to raise their prices, sometimes beyond the means of ‘tweens’, teens, and students, leading me to question whether the chain is a young people’s phenomenon, a cultural badge that we can identify with and yet also afford. . Certainly the most lacking demographic at my café was the young people’s category, which was mainly comprised of international students. This conclusion is surely a gross generalization; personal experience reassures me that the Independent Coffee Shop is not simply a haven for the elderly, but instead boasts a thriving array of clientele. Nonetheless, our clientele comprised primarily the middle-class, ‘artsy’ and ‘cultured’ type, the type that can afford to pay that little bit extra.
In the wake of the chain, local businesses are indeed put under pressure, but to say that they are nothing but a pipe dream is, I believe, a misguided assumption. In fact, I’d argue the opposite: the sense of community created in independent coffee shops can never be fully recreated in the mass-market commercial giants, however they try. Whilst the latter may have a certain allure, especially amongst young people, I feel now that that having frequented a variety of outlets, I am bored of these uninspiring duplicates; the authenticity of the menus is sometimes laughable; I’m tired of being served by workers who are visibly uninterested, for whom this is just a time-filler and way of making easy cash. Now that the novelty and seduction of the chain is wearing off, I’m eager to be welcomed by the passionate individuals who run their own businesses, for whom their coffee shop is their home, and whose doors are open to me, inviting me to rejoin the community.
In the wake of the chain, local businesses are indeed put under pressure, but to say that they are nothing but a pipe dream is, I believe, a misguided assumption. In fact, I’d argue the opposite: the sense of community created in independent coffee shops can never be fully recreated in the mass-market commercial giants, however they try. Whilst the latter may have a certain allure, especially amongst young people, I feel now that that having frequented a variety of outlets, I am bored of these uninspiring duplicates; the authenticity of the menus is sometimes laughable; I’m tired of being served by workers who are visibly uninterested, for whom this is just a time-filler and way of making easy cash. Now that the novelty and seduction of the chain is wearing off, I’m eager to be welcomed by the passionate individuals who run their own businesses, for whom their coffee shop is their home, and whose doors are open to me, inviting me to rejoin the community.