2005-04-23 - 8:35 p.m.
So I went to Starbucks yesterday on a date (!). I had originally suggested another caf� that I thought was a bit more exotic than Starbucks, but she embarrassedly confessed that she kind of likes Starbucks. I guess I understand and I thought I�d relate my own relationship with Starbucks.
When I lived in San Francisco in 1993-94, Starbucks was just starting to branch out of its Northwest base and open stores on the West Coast. San Francisco of course was a hotbed of independent coffeehouses and I was horrified by these new chain places. Being an angry young antiestablishment type, I would never patronize them.
In the years that followed, when I moved back to Boston (actually initially to Cambridge, also a coffeehouse mecca), Starbucks continued its relentless expansion and started opening East Coast stores, seemingly on every block. I mellowed a bit with age, but I still just never went to Starbucks.
Then in 2002 I moved to Providence, to Wayland Square not far from Brown. The neighborhood is often fetishized by natives as a wonderful and quaint shopping area. Maybe it is if you�re a wealthy middle-aged housewife. But I don�t get my hair done regularly at the many salons and I don�t look good in a blouse. I don�t have little kids to buy toys for nor a house to put faux-antique furniture in.
For young singles, Wayland Square is just really boring. When I lived there, there wasn�t even anyplace to get a drink. There had been a restaurant and a bar, but they were closed. There was an old-school diner, but it closed at like 3 and a D�Angelo�s, but shoot me.
About the only thing going on after 5 was Starbucks. I lived only a block away. I didn�t want to walk all the way to the main Brown-area commercial street. It was already kind of at the limit of my walking range and nobody shovels the snow off their sidewalk during the long New England winter anyway.
So I went to Starbucks. When in Rome, right? I went a lot. I became a caramel macchiato addict. Caramel frappucinos in warm weather. As the year wore on and I grew to dislike my roommate more, it became even more of a good place because it was not my house. When I had to caffeinate to write a paper, sometimes I�d be there when it closed at 10 at night and back when it opened at 6 in the morning.
There�s a whole Starbucks lingo that I still refuse to use. I designate my drink size with �small�, �medium�, and �large�, rather than the ridiculous �tall�, �grande�, and �venti�. One time I was about to order a blueberry muffin and burst into giggles wondering if there was a special Starbucks term for that. (I must have freaked out the barista.)
A professor noted in class that yuppies act like an ethnic group in some ways: similar consumption patterns and places, vague distrust of �outsiders�. It made me feel better to think of Starbucks as an ethnic joint. �There�s this caf�. I think it�s Cambodian or maybe yuppie?�
I don�t live near a Starbucks anymore, so I don�t go much except on special occasions (maybe I�ll write more about this date, but lets see how things progress). But I still like caramel frappucinos. And those comfy chairs are pretty nice.
� 2005 Geoff Gladstone
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