KILTR member Jonathan Whitelaw with today’s KILTR guest blog post. Journalist, Jonathan takes a look at society’s ever growing fascination with the coffee shop.
It is a trend that seemed to happen overnight. One evening in the late 1990s, Scotland went to sleep. When they got up in the morning there was an infestation, clogging our cities like the cholesterol choked arteries of our national heart.
Not lung cancer, strokes or casual alcoholism. This silent, yet ever addictive, invasion came in a much more civil, flannel shirted, computer savvy guise. It is, of course, the plague of the Coffee Houses.
Wandering down a high street anywhere in Scotland, it would be an odd sight not to see a coffee house. I use the term “coffee house” as opposed to café as there is a distinctly social difference between the two. Mainly convenience and the overall uniformality of their interiors.
I am, by no means, opposed to this invasion. Despite the opening tirade, this is not an anti-capitalist, lets blame globalisation for the decay of humanity style rant. I can often be found in Starbucks and Costas all over the world. Their pleasant staff, drinkable caffeine and general sedate atmospheres provide a much needed refuge for an hour or so.
A thought occurred to me the other day when I went for said refuge. Looking about the place, it was early and therefore relatively quiet for a weekday, I was amazed by the sense of community. Not directly with my fellow paying customers, the thought that strangers should interact with each other is, sadly, a thing reserved for a past, more socially forgiving incarnation of society.
The sense of community was a much wider, more hypothetical and spiritual sense. Of the four major Starbucks’ in the city of Glasgow, all of them share the same furniture, the same décor and, to my amazement, the same people.
Not physically of course. Otherwise I would be concerned that I had either A) A fandom following more suited to Star Trek actors. Or B) that my life was the result of some cruel, observatory experiment concocted by a media genius who lived in the “moon”. Conveniently in the shape of Ed Harris, who else.
The community and similarities I refer to are more the congregation who gather in each of the Starbucks, Costas and other major franchises the world over. With their ever increasing popularity, it is no surprise that these social groups have developed on masse.
Not lung cancer, strokes or casual alcoholism. This silent, yet ever addictive, invasion came in a much more civil, flannel shirted, computer savvy guise. It is, of course, the plague of the Coffee Houses.
In a past incarnation I studied psychology so this sort of thing has always been of a great fascination to me. The great theories of Gestalt theory psychologists like Kurt Lewin and Stanley Milgrim were the hallmarks of my studies. As psychology has often been criticised for being far too theoretical, after all how do you measure how repressed somebody is. Social psychology was always the practical, on show outlet that sparked my imagination.
Now, as a fully functioning member of society, I enjoy seeing my studies in action. Which led me to my theories of the Starbucks Nuclear Family.
Like any family, there are constant power struggles, defined figures of authority and just the slightest hint of rebellion. In Starbucks et al, these take two distinct guises.
There are the Veterans. The parental type figures who are so used to their daily visitation that the staff know their names and, more importantly, what they are drinking. From business people to the artistic community, the Veterans serve as the go betweens for inexperienced customers. Their encyclopaedic knowledge of the menu would be enough to merit them a job with the corporation, if they weren’t already so damn busy. A fact of which, they conveniently project on their phones or in general conversation.
Then there are the poseurs. These characteristically suave characters lounge around the couches and chairs with all the confidence of a reclining lion, fresh from the kill. Grande mugs cupped expertly between their hands, they care not for anybody else in the store. This, to them, is just like their front room. Sans the TV, guitar with a broken string and sense of bohemia. Conversation again is kept at an all time high volume, just in case anybody was interested in listening out with his or her circle. The petulant, brooding teenagers of the family, they only want attention. Bless.
Since Starbucks entered the U.K. market in 1998, it has become a cultural revolution. Without knowing it, social trends have grown in and about it. Some would argue it is merely the next step in social evolution. Others would say it’s merely the modern watering hole, humans being terrible creatures of habit.
Either way, next time you are collecting your Latte or decaffeinated Mocha, have a wonder where you fit in the family. Then pop over to the writer sitting alone in the corner, smiling to himself with an inflated smugness. I’ll take a pot of tea please if you’re offering thanks.
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