Starbucks and the Denigration of Home
When those who could afford fancy brewing machines were offered the ease of personally engineered cups of manufactured coffee they reveled in its greatness. The perfect cup of coffee. The ever elusive, ever changing, perfect cup of coffee. The brewing of coffee was an art form, a discipline and only those who studied the culture of beans could truly understand the scientific and artistic talent that went into the perfect coffee bean. So naturally, when these experts of caffeinated beverage creation offered up the perfect cup of coffee at a price slightly higher – but worth the extra few pennies – than the average cup of home brew, those with the extra pennies lined up for a perfect cup. After this, people became dissatisfied by their home brew. They realized that their perfect cup of coffee could only come from an expensive machine the size of a refrigerator. They realized that their perfect cup was not perfect until it was boiled to the perfect temperature, stirred and served up by a smiling barista whose pep gave the impression that she too, enjoyed a perfect cup, or two.
Originally, the company merely stuck to coffee beverages: the standard light, medium and dark roasts, the optional extra espresso shot, and the complimentary cream and sugar. With the growing popularity and the growing line-ups, Starbucks gave the masses something more to swallow. With these changes came the obligatory rise in price eliminating yet another economic bracket out of the door. These new cups of coffee, the second generation of coffee, involved whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles, and an assortment of flavoured sugar pumps to give their already addictive caffeinated beverages an extra kick for your dollar. With the ever-evolving options of coffee variations, one could drink a cup of coffee every day for a year without exhausting the whole list of combination possibilities. Was today a hazelnut day? How about whole milk? Skim? Starbucks branded these drinks and coveted their secret recipes – of course, they didn’t want the masses to discover that they too could brew the perfect cup – and developed their own lingo. This was called, ‘calling the drink’ a systematic naming system that followed a logical pattern of options. This system which rested on the fact that no uninformed member of the public could possibly figure out their symbols, caused many an intimidated customer to shyly approach the counter and whimper, “medium dark roast please.” This stammer was met with the same pep as our perky barista earlier, “Do you mean a ‘Grande Café Verona?” Which obviously confused the old and feeble and the young and uninformed. A cup of coffee was no longer just a cup of coffee, it had its own jacket, and its own designer cardboard cups, its own sizing, and its own special name that made it sound expensive and exotic. Gone were the days of a doughnut and a double-double. If the words double-double were uttered within the sacred green walls of a Starbucks franchise, the only appropriate response would be a confused blinking and a repeating of “What can I get for you today?”
With the rise in inflation, the rise in the cost of bean production, and a rise in the cost of transport, (not to mention rising minimum wages) the price of that perfect cup of coffee crept close and closer to the five-dollar mark.
With these ever expanding possibilities came the seasonal drinks. Today, you know the seasons are changing by the colour of the cups at your local Starbucks. There is no chance that you’ll miss their new line of winter themed drinks that march out of the door one by one in the frosty hands of your neighbours and friends. Of course, Starbucks also provides the perfect meeting place for business meetings, craft groups, new mom’s and friends and neighbours. Starbucks has essentially replaced the function of your living room with their “third home environment,” that is, third after home and work. Now, the culturally aristocratic thing to do is march your screaming caffeinated babies up to the bar and order a grande, non-fat-no-whip-half-sweet-cinnamon-dolce-latte, and a ‘short’ cup for the little ones. Park yourself next to Mrs. Next-door, and Mrs. Down-the-Street, and pacify the kids with spoonfuls of caffeine infused whip cream while you discuss the finer points of your yoga work out.
1 Comments:
Actually, that would be grande half-sweet-nonfat-no-whip-cinnamon-dolce-latte ;) But great article, and very true :) Oh Starbucks...
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