Twenty years later, I still remember this trip vividly as if it were yesterday - almost. Leaving a country like Switzerland for India, landing in Mumbai in the middle of the night was quite something.

I remember us famished, walking around looking for an open restaurant. We walked through dark back streets until we found this hole in a wall, full with locals eating what smelled like curry. We entered and were shown a table close to the kitchen. The staff was desperately trying to tell us something as my dad ordered food for all of us but the language barrier was too big to understand their warning. The food was hot, burning hot and we left all five hoping we didn’t need to share the same bathroom that very night.

But mostly, it was the beginning of a crazy month spent traveling in trains from Mumbai to Goa to Hyderabad and then Cochin, and finally Pondicherry. It was as scary as magical and, at times, we all really wanted to go home. But at the end of it all, we found joy and, every one of us came back changed forever.

I often think back to this vacation as a time where I became conscious in ways I never was before. And I think places can do that to you. Welcome you as you are, yet imprint you so hard that you can only leave changed.

At least cafés have done that to me since (soon) forever.

In the fifteen years since opening The Blend, I have lived in and passed through more countries than I can count on two hands. Japan, Colombia, Rwanda, Turkey, France, Brazil, Spain… cities in-between, and places I didn’t expect to love. Yet in every single one of them, without fail, there was a café that found me first.

One I’ll never forget was in Kigali. I was there for an off-site with my former employer, a SaaS company I was working for at the time, and a few of us slipped away one afternoon and walked into what felt like an entirely different world.

Kivu Noir sits in the greenery, under trees, as if the city had decided to grow a café rather than build one. It was full of young people talking fast, notebooks open, ideas flying, people chasing something and tons of coffee cups, piling up.

As I made my way to the barista, that is when it happened. What always happens in cafés if you let it, by now I know that’s how it works for me. You start asking questions about the coffee, the space, the people, their dream and your skin gets goosebumps. You realize right there the wild amount of love and intention that went into making this space feel the way it does. It was in the way the natural light was allowed to filter through the canopy directly onto the brew bar, erasing the line between inside and out. It was the fact that they were roasting local Rwandan beans just steps from where we sat, creating a tangible loop of origin and community. Every detail, every operational choice was made so that anyone walking in off the street would feel, without being told, that this was their place too.

That’s the same feeling India left me with when leaving. Feeling like after a while, I could belong anywhere.

The places that stay with you are rarely the ones that were perfect.

They’re the ones that were started with a personal intention, maybe a dream for a new career, maybe a common project with your siblings, maybe a crazy bet with a friend…

These cafes have all been built with enough care that you can feel it the moment you walk in, and enough soul that you can carry something out with you when you leave. And opening The Blend taught me how everything matters. The space, your craft, the music, your energy… the list is long.

But through that, I learned that a café’s soul isn’t an accident, it comes with the series of deliberate design and business choices you make along the way. It’s the decision to place the espresso machine low enough on the counter so the barista can look every customer in the eye but also close enough to the window, so you can serve coffee right there, it’s the playlist you compile so that it matches our moods on a rainy or sunny day, the acoustic planning so the music wraps around you instead of shouting at you, ….

And ever since leaving South Africa behind, there isn’t one place I traveled to without a café in mind and once again, every café I visited imprinted me with a feeling, a sentiment, a lingering taste on my tongue, a thought, new inspiration and sometimes desire. All emotions I find so similar to discovering a new country.

A week ago, after digging into some boxes, I came across one of my many notebooks. The first entry was written on the day of my 25th birthday. Exactly 10 years ago in 3 months. At twenty-five, the dust had only just started to settle after building and selling The Blend. Yet, I was still obsessing over the exact things I am writing to you about today.

And though so much has happened since, I kept thinking how little I had actually changed, how little my desires had changed. Is it a bad thing or a good thing? From what I heard we never really age, our bodies do though and so with that in mind, I realised maybe it’s what places do to us, cafés in particular. They keep reminding us who we really are.

Because sometime some places just know you before you do.

Now I want to hear from you. What is the one café, anywhere in the world, that left an imprint on you? The one you walked into and immediately felt like you belonged?

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A few cafés that changed me

• Epoca Café Bar (Cartagena, Colombia): The perfect example of the day-to-night transition. They master the hospitality art of shifting the energy from a bright morning coffee haven to an incredibly vibrant evening bar, without ever losing their core identity and their passion for coffee.

• Kitsuné (Paris, France): The magic of picking the perfect location is what I thought when I walked into that space for the first time a decade ago. Perfectly designed, playful and delicious coffee right in front of the intimate garden of le Palais Royal.

• The Blend (Cape Town, South Africa): The one I built, the one that built me. This space taught me that negotiating a smart lease wasn’t just about financial survival; it was also about buying the creative freedom to build a space with genuine soul.

• Kivu Noir (Kigali, Rwanda): Proved to me that a café doesn’t need traditional walls to hold a community. The way they integrated their roasting process into the natural environment completely redefined my understanding of what a “local” coffee shop could be.

• The Good Day Velo Bikes & Coffee (Kyoto, Japan): Showed me that extreme meticulousness doesn’t have to feel intimidating. A masterclass in combining two distinct passions; cycling and coffee into one seamless, highly curated retail experience.

• Faw Coffee (Istanbul, Turkey): A brilliant reminder of how a tiny footprint can still impact you when walking in and feeling as if this space was from a movie.

  

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The Super Bowl of Chinese specialty coffee just wrapped up two weeks ago. Hotelex Shanghai, the hospitality industry’s mega-trade show, is essentially a yearly pilgrimage for the country’s caffeine-obsessed.

This year’s edition was no different, featuring a star-studded lineup of over a dozen global and national barista champions serving an incredibly discerning crowd. The guest list included virtually every name on the Best of Panama winners’ circle, alongside a fleet of international roasters who have successfully conquered Chinese palates. We’re talking European heavyweights like MAME, Nomad, Standout, Dak, and TANAT, plus Asian rising stars like Archers, MOMOS, and Lilo.

To say the scene is growing quickly is an understatement. In China, coffee trends battle it out and disappear before the average consumer can even learn the tasting notes. To put the scale in perspective, Shanghai is the undisputed coffee capital of the world. Three years ago, it boasted about 8,000 shops; by 2025, some analysts claimed that number was getting close to 10,000.

But tucked away from the big-box chains is a much more fascinating phenomenon: the curatorial specialty café.

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The hobbyist’s sanctuary

These aren’t your typical “grab-and-go” spots. Curatorial cafés exclusively serve beans sourced from overseas roasters, hand-picked by owners who act more like museum directors than baristas. Most stick strictly to pour-overs. Rather than a traditional business model, these feel like passion projects for the ultra-nerdy. Consequently, they tend to be tiny, anti-scalable, and built entirely on a reputation for uncompromising taste.

Take Right Here Right Now, one of the major references of the Shanghai scene. Walking in, you’re greeted by a vibrant collage of coffee packaging that doubles as wall art. While they feature big names like The Barn in Berlin or Tim Wendelboe in Oslo, they also champion smaller, more obscure roasters.

Their claim to fame is the “Flowing Banquet.” Inspired by traditional Chinese dining, this system allows guests to sample a flight of different coffees by sharing the cups and the cost with fellow guests. This boutique yet affordable model has won the café many regulars. But most importantly, it creates an intimate space for coffee lovers to get to know each other and nerd out about coffee.

Then there’s Page Coffee, a pint-sized “mini-café” barely cracking 10 square meters. The owner, a former designer, curates a tight menu of about nine coffees, leaning heavily on Asian roasters like Archers and OMA. They even offer APAX LAB water recipes to ensure the chemistry is as precise as the roast. Despite the minimalistic aesthetic, the shop feels like a cozy shrine to the owner’s obsession.

A lot of the young regulars at Page are also connected in an online community where they exchange coffee experiences, buy coffee together, and make friends.

Powered by the “Haitao” legacy

What makes these niche cafés possible? China’s terrifyingly efficient e-commerce infrastructure. Curatorial cafés are the logical evolution of a market where online sellers have been importing overseas beans for years. Before the pandemic, Taobao led the charge.

During the lockdowns, however, the tuangou (group buying) trend exploded. This model allows strangers to pool their orders to unlock better rates and fresher shipments. Today, these platforms offer deals and logistics that rival anything you’d find in Europe. We’re talking beans arriving at your door within a week of their roast date in London, Oslo, or Tokyo.

This isn’t China’s first overseas shopping rodeo. The haitao (overseas shopping) fever actually traces back to the 2008 baby formula scandal, which sent parents searching for trusted goods abroad. Throughout the 2010s, a wave of international students and tourists returned home with a redefined sense of consumption.

By the time specialty coffee gained traction around 2017, the customer base was already tech-savvy and accustomed to global sourcing.

A similar pattern is emerging in Paris

While China’s curatorial cafés are importing global roasters to diversify local palates, Paris is importing something else from Asia: the architecture of intimacy. Tiny Asian-influenced places like Shigure Café and Convos have begun dotting the city’s arrondissements, designed with the same anti-scalable philosophy as Shanghai’s niche coffee sanctuaries.

But instead of curating beans from Oslo and Berlin, they’re focusing on curating experiences of belonging. With barely 20 square meters, bench seating that forces proximity, and ceremonial-grade matcha served alongside local specialty coffee, these cafés address what researchers now call a loneliness epidemic. Over half of adults in Western cities report feeling isolated, according to recent studies.

The lesson from both markets is aligned: exceptional coffee experiences don’t happen in oversized rooms optimized for Zoom calls.

They happen when spatial constraint, thoughtful curation, and care for hospitality allow for strangers to become regulars (and friends!). Whether it’s Shanghai’s “Flowing Banquet” or Paris’s laptop-free living rooms, the most successful cafés in both cities understand that coffee has always been about gathering, not just grinding.

The Ripple Effect

The arrival of these international roasters in China has sparked a bigger conversations around the local roasting scene. Chinese roasters have used these global benchmarks to sharpen their own craft. The rise of the curatorial café does more than just import a luxury experience; it strengthens the local community by fostering a high-level dialogue between top players in the specialty coffee world and China’s ambitious newcomers.

Some takeaways:

1. Connection matters. These cafés in Shanghai and Paris have made us realize how deeply we depend on global logistics networks, how they enable cultural exchange, and how we still yearn for more meaningful global experiences. The café can become more than just a space to explore vertical connections, from seed to cup; it can also foster horizontal ones, showcasing hospitality and social cultures from around the world through coffee.

2. Asia is the next coffee frontier. Producers are already taking note, and roasters should too. Not just East Asia; Southeast Asia is also on the rise. Vietnam and Malaysia are already launching specialty robusta and liberica. More culturally specific trends are beginning to emerge, and in the coming years, there will be much to watch.

Thanks for reading,

Coral & Julie

P.S. Please give this post a ❤️ if you found it valuable. It really helps with discovery and share it with those who want to learn more about coffee culture

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As I landed in Paris last Sunday, I was already feeling the thrill of tasting that first coffee sip from a café I’d been eyeing for a while.

But as I was planning my route to get there, I realised that Grave Café was a lot closer to my home, and their flat white I believe - is really one of the best in Paris. So I bifurcated, and made my way back to Grave.

Although novelty is a major factor in my decision making, sometimes returning to the same café feels a little better. But with that reflexion, I felt a little pang in my heart. The kind of pang that comes with feeling guilty. I know it sounds (probably) silly but, sipping on my flat white that Sunday, I felt like a terrible (awful) customer (especially with my favourite cafés).

And, yes, I still feel guilty for not showing more love to my favourite coffee shops.

I remember back when I ran The Blend how grateful I was for my regulars. Not so much for their recurring income (which is always lovely), but rather for the relief of not doing small talk for 8 hours straight… and getting the chance to catch up with some as you do with friends.

Long story short, when you meet dozens of customers a day, your regulars do make your days better.

So how am I not more of a regular myself?

I’ve come to wonder: when novelty is all around you, becoming a regular will only happen if something more happens in your café.

It crossed my mind again when I was in London for work, and we returned daily to the same café, Redemption Roasters. My colleague had clearly become best mates with the barista, who was, to be fair, just so fun and kind. If I lived in London and worked in that area, I would have done the same. So yes, there’s definitely a personality thing there, a friendly parameter.

But beyond that…

So much more most be done today to remain top of mind. As I was reading the news, I saw that Starbucks, (yes, them again), did something quite small but neat. They offered a paper ribbon to their customers in Asia on the day back to the office post-Lunar New Year. Employees could then wrap their computers with that ribbon and cut it as they turned on their computer for their first day back at the office. I thought; that’s one soft activation. Something almost laughable at, I mean, you’re going to give me a piece of paper, really?

But it worked (not without critics) because it wasn’t about the item itself, but the meaning behind that small offering: We care about your culture and want to be a part of it.

When I met with Kickback Coffee last week, they talked about their culture and how awesome the founder is. He’s all about sports, and that value really comes through when you visit their website. It transpires through the company culture, how they operate at their locations, everything. They even drive around in their jeeps selling coffee to their customers.

So let’s look at this idea of trivial coffee activations. In my case, should you gift me a fun sticker whenever I come in—or after five visits—I’ll be back over and again.

How about you?

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Because I want my observations to be a little more useful than just reflective, I’m sharing below a mini-analysis of how and why this is smart because it is, despite it being Starbucks. I think it’s an easily replicable model.

The Porter’s 5 Forces analysis on grasping the importance of small actions to retain customer loyalty can be helpful when deciding whether one should open a new café or not.

The café industry structure is brutal, and understanding why helps explain why trivial activations aren’t trivial at all.

• Threat of new entrants: HIGH. Low barriers mean new cafés open constantly. VC-funded chains like Blank Street can scale in months with the same minimalist aesthetic one can spend a decade working on with an interior designer to get right…

• Buyer power: VERY HIGH Your customers have five specialty options within walking distance, and switching costs are zero. They’ll leave you for a café that’s 30 seconds closer if the coffee or the vibe, or whatever else makes them happier.

• Competitive rivalry: EXTREME Market saturation plus Instagram homogenization means every café looks (almost) identical in terms of menus (not in terms of concepts), so you’re competing with offerings copies.

• Threat of substitutes: CRITICAL You’re not competing with other cafés, you’re competing with your customer not leaving the house, making good coffee at home, and with the friction of putting on shoes, fighting the rain, etc

• The truth: When your product (specialty coffee) and your space (4th-wave aesthetic) are commodified and easily copied, your best advantage will be the relationship layer. Everything else can be replicated rather quickly.

So what Starbuck did, or in fact Elliott Coffee, with offering a coffee every time the train goes by to the person at the cash register - those small activations create, and activate an emotional memory which will build lien between them and that café.

A customer might leave you for a closer café or cheaper option, but they won’t easily leave the barista who remembered they were training for a marathon, or the café that gave them a ribbon that acknowledged their culture, or the place that made them feel genuinely seen.

Start a “moments calendar” for your neighbourhood.
Write down six cultural or community events happening in the next three months; local marathon, first day of spring, neighbourhood street fair, back to school. Pick one small gesture for each that costs under $1 per customer: a ribbon, a handwritten note, a sticker, a seed packet, a discount for race participants. Set a reminder two weeks before to order supplies and then, train your baristas on the story behind each gesture so they can explain it without hesitation.

• Show up where your customers already are. You don’t need a truck or major investment. Bring thermoses of cold brew to the weekend farmers market. Offer free pour-overs at the neighbourhood cleanup day. Partner with a local co-working space to do Tuesday morning coffee cart. Start with one monthly event, track which ones convert to in-store visits, then double down on what works. You shouldn’t be louder and everywhere, but rather where your people are.

• Give your baristas permission to be human. Create simple systems that enable personal connection: a Polaroid wall of regulars with their favourite drinks, rotating local artist designs on cup sleeves people want to collect, handwritten drink recommendations on receipts. The cost isn’t money, it’s attention and culture. Talk about why personal gestures matter in team meetings. Celebrate examples when staff make customers feel seen. This scales through repetition but stays personal through execution.

I hope you’ll make a thing of it and above all, remember that being a regular isn’t just about giving more money to your local café but to help your favourite barista feel a little relief and giving them a big smile during their day.

Thanks for reading,

Julie

P.S. Please give this post a ❤️ if you found it valuable. It really helps with discovery.

The red wine is definitely helping my creativity, and as everything around us is slowing down, I’ve been longing to write about coffee. It’s an odd thing to say out loud because very few of us want to write about the drink that keeps us awake, maybe even productive during a time when we’d rather take it easy, be lazy and watch Home Alone, or Love Actually for the fifth time (yes - totally guilty).

As we stepped out on Christmas morning for a long walk in the wintry sunshine, I scoured the streets for one of my cafés to be open but none were, until I started seeing people walking with takeaway cups. Noir Café was of course open and I would think a few others are too.. for a city as big as Paris, too many of us have a complicated relationship with Christmas, not to keep a café or two open for those who long to see another space than their living room, hotel lobby or simply their desk.

Here’s what I realised in that moment of mild panic, scanning closed doors: I don’t just want a café. I want my café. The one where the barista knows my coffee order by heart, where I have a favourite table to sit at to people watch and scribble in my notebook, and where showing up feels less like consuming and more like returning.

Whether you love coffee as much as I do or not, Starbucks is an institution you would have heard of, and most likely indulged in.

In the nineties, it offered us all a 3rd space to meet at, to study or even work at for a few hours a day without being ousted out because of low consumption, or for taking up too much space. I can still remember people using up two to three tables with their own monitor back then (!) and feeling totally cool with it… and so were the baristas, happily refuelling their cups with brewed coffee. I laugh thinking about it today - especially in Europe, where these guys would have been asked to leave IMMEDIATELY.

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But though they were #1 for a long time, like everything else, we've grown accustomed to continuous improvement: (brilliant) specialty coffee is now available, new aesthetically pleasing spaces for our instagram stories pop up weekly (3 to 4 new places here in Paris), and our longevity obsession, as well as Gen Z habits, is driving demand for healthier "functional" drinks.

And when I pause for a second to think about the topical reads I've been consuming lately, it's mostly been about Starbucks, well, its “demise” (yes, let me be dramatic), and Luckin Coffee wanting to save Blue Bottle, along with Coca-Cola trying to rescue Costa Coffee. And I'm here wondering: isn't this finally the end of coffee chains as we know them?

And though many argue it is, I would say perhaps. But, in general, coffee chains are not disappearing. The ones that forgot about human connection being at the centre of any hospitality business are.

Because when chains only focus on scaling (and their bottom line) — you stop optimising for your true fans; the ones who come for their favourite drinks, and to exist for a while. And though there’s comfort in knowing we can get the same coffee in Paris as in Singapore, I genuinely think finding that one café that feels like a home is essential for our mental health, and overall wellbeing.

Because we all need a place outside of home, and the office where we can feel welcome. A space where we feel like we belong but above all, where we feel seen and understood no matter our mood, fashion style, or political ideas. All while feeling inspired because being outside home or the office, should be exciting - it should feel like anything and everything is possible.

I think that’s what we’re all looking for, really. Not the perfect coffee or the trendiest interior but a place where we can sit with our thoughts, our laptops, our messy emotions, and feel like we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. A place that doesn’t ask anything of us except to show up.

And maybe that’s why I panicked a little when I couldn’t find an open café on Christmas day… home is lovely, but sometimes you need somewhere that feels like home without being home. Somewhere you can just exist, uninterrupted and unbothered, with your favourite coffee in hand.

Thanks for reading me ☕️
Julie

I’ve been spending way too much time in cafés lately, and I keep noticing these patterns everywhere I go. Not just in Paris, but across the cities I’ve visited this year… and well, I’m rather excited about where coffee culture is heading in 2026.

Because these shifts are never just about coffee. As you know if you’ve been following me for a while now, cafés are very much a reflection of what we need (as human beings with a love for coffee, rituals, human connections…and so much more!). Ultimately, these trends are revealing something bigger about how we’re rethinking taste (what “good coffee” even means), work (where and how we spend our days), and money (what we’re willing to invest in our daily rituals).

And a lot of it is being driven by a generation that thinks black coffee is boring and isn’t afraid to say it.

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Here’s what I’m seeing:

#1 More robots for more consistency

Not a surprise to anyone but after experiencing the very first robotic coffee shop in Limassol, we’re in for a lot of tech driven innovations - a few recent examples I’ve come across in Spain and Norway, will illustrate that point;

• Hakone Coffee in Oslo, they installed an automated drip station that brews with Swiss-watch precision—same temperature, same timing, every single time.

• And KoffiClub in Marbella has a robotic milk frother that creates microfoam so consistent it makes every latte art attempt look flawless.

At first, I was skeptical... aren’t we all? But I wondered, isn’t coffee supposed to be about craft - about passion? About the human touch?

But speaking with Camilla from Hakone, I realized this isn’t about efficiency only anymore, it’s about removing the anxiety from both sides of the counter, so that there’s more time to actually connect as human beings.. and also, less waste.

And for café owners dealing with labor shortages and rising wages, automated systems can deliver the same quality drink in 60-90 seconds without breaks, sick days, or training costs… which is a major plus!

The money calculation is brutal but real: automated systems reduce labor costs by up to 50% while doubling speed during rush hours. For high-rent locations like airports or city centers, that efficiency is the difference between profitability and closure.

But while machines guarantee consistency, they can’t replicate the community feel of a skilled barista who remembers your order. The cafés winning at automation—like Hakone and KoffiClub—are the ones using robots to enhance rather than replace human connection. The machine handles the precision work, freeing staff to actually engage with customers instead of being stuck behind the espresso machine during the morning rush.

It’s a weird balance. But as automation technology evolves, so does our definition of what makes coffee service feel personal.

#2 The coffee specialty obsession

While some cafés are getting bigger and offering multiple activities within one space, (Slowe Wellness House) others are shrinking down to literal holes in the wall, but with the most obsessive attention to coffee quality I’ve ever seen. These places aren’t trying to feed you brunch or give you a coworking space. They’re here for one thing: to serve you the most meticulously sourced, precisely extracted coffee of your life.

Full menu transparency. Tasting notes. Origin stories. The kind of places where the barista lights up when you ask about their beans. This is coffee geekery at its finest, and I’m absolutely here for it.

These micro-cafés are rejecting the laptop-crowd coworking model entirely. They’re saying “we’re not your office, we’re your coffee moment.” It’s a fascinating pushback against the assumption that every café needs to be a productive workspace. Single-origin and micro-lot coffees have become the new standard at these places, allowing consumers to experience unique flavour profiles that tell a story.

Though ironically, this ultra-nerdy approach might be exactly what turns off younger consumers. Coffee Intelligence notes that many veteran specialty roasters are now introducing matcha to retain a clientele increasingly uninterested in coffee cup scores and technical jargon.

#3 Robusta is having a moment

Okay, hear me out on this one. Climate change is doing a number on Arabica plants, and suddenly everyone’s paying attention to Robusta. What used to be the “cheaper” coffee bean is getting a glow-up, and roasters are experimenting with it in ways that are actually... exciting?

Brazilian robusta farmers are pushing for quality amid climate threats, with Espirito Santo aiming for 1.5 million bags of specialty robusta by 2032. Rising temperatures are threatening arabica production, forcing farmers to adopt new techniques that are elevating robusta’s reputation entirely.

This is about taste evolution at its core. What we consider “specialty” or “premium” is shifting because it has to. Robusta’s rehabilitation is forcing us to question our coffee snobbery and recalibrate our palates. When environmental reality intersects with coffee economics, suddenly taste preferences have to adapt. I’m curious (and cautiously optimistic) about what this means. If there’s one thing the specialty coffee world excels at, it’s turning overlooked things into something special.

#4 The Asian influence

So many Asian-inspired cafés are popping up in Paris - not just the aesthetic (though yes, the interiors are gorgeous), but the drinks themselves. Cold, creative, often sweet specialty coffee drinks that blur the line between coffee and dessert.

It’s a completely different approach to coffee culture, one that celebrates cold brews and flavour experimentation in ways Western cafés haven’t fully embraced yet, and honestly, I really loved my mocha frappé earlier this summer at Geurimi coffee.

Besides our local cafés offering us brand new coffee flavours and ways of savouring it, the numbers are staggering: Asia’s coffee demand has grown 14.5% since 2018, while consumption in Europe and North America has plateaued. China’s café market jumped 58% in 2023 to over 50,000 stores, overtaking the US as the world’s largest branded coffee shop market. Indonesia’s domestic consumption has tripled since pre-pandemic years. Asian consumers aren’t just adopting global trends—they’re exporting them all over the world.

This shift says everything about changing taste demographics and money flow. Asian café culture is attracting younger consumers who grew up on boba and Instagram-worthy drinks—people willing to spend $8-12 on elaborately crafted beverages. And Gen Z is absolutely here for it. According to recent research, 65% of Gen Z coffee drinkers prefer beverages with functional benefits —adaptogens, proteins, wellness add-ons—which aligns perfectly with Asian café culture’s embrace of creative, health-conscious drinks.

Western cafés are watching where the money’s going and adapting. It’s not appropriation; it’s market evolution responding to what the next generation actually wants to drink and photograph.

#5 Coffee drinks that aren’t... coffee

Ready-made creative coffee drinks are everywhere now and a lot of them, are caffeine free or in fact, mimicking coffee flavours yet without coffee… ( WithCatalyst is a good example!)

I’m watching this trend with fascination because it tells me something important: people don’t just love coffee, they love the idea of coffee. The ritual. The taste. The moment. And now there’s room for all of it.

Matcha has become the new espresso, with matcha-based drinks seeing a 202% increase in UK sales. The global matcha market is projected to reach $7 billion by 2030. UK chain Caffè Nero sold over 1.3 million matcha drinks in summer 2025 alone contributing to a 49% rise in iced beverage sales. And a chain we know really well has completely rebranded itself to attract matcha lovers - can you guess which one?

We’ve built our entire professional culture around coffee as fuel but what happens when people want the social ritual without the caffeine dependence? Or when they’re working different hours and don’t need that 7am jolt? Alternatives like Matcha, or Adaptogens-based drinks are responding to how work itself is changing: more flexible, more global, more conscious about wellness.

So what does all this mean?

I think 2026 is going to be the year cafés stop trying to be just one thing. They’re becoming laboratories for culture, community, and yes, increasingly creative approaches to what a “coffee shop” even means.

These five trends reveal the following: Our taste is expanding (from Robusta to dessert coffees to matcha lattes), our work patterns are fragmenting (some need offices, some need anti-offices, some need mobile caffeine solutions that reduce anxiety), and our money is following our values (we’ll pay more for community spaces, functional ingredients, ethical sourcing, and experiences over transactions).

The cafés that thrive in 2026 won’t be the ones that resist these changes, they’ll be the ones that figure out how to serve both the specialty coffee purist who wants a perfect pour-over AND the Gen Z customer who wants a protein-enhanced iced latte with oat milk and adaptogenic mushrooms. It’s about balance, not choosing sides.

And I’m quite curious to see how all the above will unfold, not only in big cities but also in smaller towns where people do love coffee and new café owners want to remain top of mind.

Because ultimately, if more people are gathering in cafés, experimenting with flavours, and finding community over a cup of something—isn’t that the whole point?

Are any of these trends showing up in your city yet? And more importantly, which one are you most (or least) excited about?

Thanks for reading me ☕️
Julie

First, I’ll be heading to Oslo and then, Istanbul a few days later. I am so excited to be in two highly contrasting cities with a very different approach to coffee and their cafés.

Oslo will, as most Nordic countries, have very minimalistic, unassuming cafés: all about the coffee and the quality of pastries, and their shiny chrome coffee machines. Istanbul (it will be my first time visiting) will most likely be very colourful, lots of music, happy cafés as a place to gather family and friends, while pouring Turkish coffee into tiny cups.

I’m speculating right now, but I do look forward to having coffee in two very different places within such a short time span.

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My method to actually find the right café

I used to land in a place and then open google maps, and just search for coffee, while hoping I won’t be disappointed when ordering my flat white. It was a formula that worked 1 time out of 20, and there’s nothing I hate more than heading right toward the cashier and ask for a refund, or an orange juice.

But it took Tokyo in 2017 to change things up and design a system that would ensure all cafés I stepped in cared about their beans - their milk (especially if you drink milky coffee options) and their latte art.

1) I always start with Instagram stalking

It isn’t always instagram, but most likely it’ll be instagram paired with Pinterest, or any digital coffee speciality magazine (Drift, Sprudge..).

• I usually search for cafés in the neighbourhoods around my hotel on Instagram and tap through Stories and recent posts. I am mostly curious about their latte art, the kind of people visiting and whether the space is my kind of space or not (super subjective of course!)

• Do they speak about their coffee bean providers if they don’t roast it?

• One thing I pay attention to is how curated their profile is on Instagram - sometime I really love that it isn’t, and it’s just more of an album photo with happy people and great latte art.

• Then I add one promising café per neighbourhood I plan to visit that day. It gives me some kind of anchor as I move through the city, and a backup plan when I feel like caffeine after hours of wandering.

2) Pin everything on Google Maps with clear notes

Once I’ve got a handful from Instagram, I cross-check on Google Maps and save them with tags that will help me decide in the moment. I don’t care about Wi‑Fi or laptop policies when I travel; my notes are about the cup and the experience.

My usual tags:

• Specialty coffee

• Interior design worthy

• Barista champion owner

• Brunch first (but they take their coffee seriously)

• People-watching spot (good outdoor seating, steady flow)

I also sort Google reviews by “most recent” and worst “star rating” to see if they actually mention the coffee at all… If not, I’ll go anyways.

3) Do the 5‑minute vibe check

When I arrive, I give myself five minutes to decide whether I’ll stay or not, following my list of non‑negotiables,

• A hello from the barista. Eye contact and a friendly “hi”, and when asking questions about their beans, and milk at the counter - are they happy to share more, or not.

• The smell of the place. Fresh grind and clean brew aromas over odd, and overpowering smells

• The “make” of the coffee machine - Not that picky but if the coffee machine is Illy or Nespresso - I won’t be buying coffee drinks from you.

• Menu

  • Beans: where are they from, what coffee roaster brands

  • Flat white is on it - and they do it the right way (double espressos)

• A place to sit that fits my intent today:

  • a seat to people‑watch, or

  • a space at the bar to chat with the barista (my favorite), or

  • a small corner if I want quiet for ten minutes.

Let’s help one another and review our visits

If I’m happy, I always take a few pictures and leave them a Google review the same day. As a former café owner, reviews matter..

These do bring people in, and help the best places survive, especially in cities like Paris where three to five new cafés open every week.

My review focuses on what future-me would care about:

• What I drank and how it tasted (extraction, temperature, balance).

• A line about the vibe (calm morning light, multigenerational chatter, great bar banter).

• Any useful specifics (cash preferred, pastry sells out by noon, brand of coffee beans, or fun anecdotes).

Why having a plan matters

Simply put, having systems in place helps prevent overwhelm when traveling somewhere new, especially where the idea of “great coffee” might differ from your own. While I absolutely delight in discovering an unplanned coffee spot that meets all my non-negotiables, I know how rare that is when time is limited.

So I hope these tips will help you find the ideal cafés during your next trip - if it does, please share it with us.

Thank you for reading me today ☕️

Julie x

In 2023, I spent over €4,000 in flat whites ☕️

Today, five months after being laid off, as I sit here going through my bank statements, that number stares back at me from my spreadsheet: €4,000. On coffee. In a single year. Across seven different countries.

My rational brain knows I should feel sick about it because that’s the rent money, 3 months of groceries, and well the emergency fund I wish I had when my last company called to let me go…

But here's the thing that surprises even me: I don't regret it, not one euro.

And it's not because I'm reckless with money, or because I don't understand the value of €4,000 when you're building a portfolio career from scratch. It's because of something I learned when I was 19, running a tiny café called The Blend, something that most people completely miss about what a café actually is.

Opening The Blend was by far the best business experience of my life, not because I was serving food and drinks, but because I was creating a social experience. The interior design mattered, sure, but only as a way to attract the crowd you wanted to hang out with. What I was really selling wasn't caffeine, I was selling connection, conversation, and the increasingly rare commodity of intentional time.

In fact, one year after opening, I was invited to the wedding of Barbara, a loyal customer who had met her now husband while waiting in line. With a bit of matchmaking magic from my end – sharing her number when he visited again the following week – I realized I wasn't just serving coffee. I was facilitating life-changing moments.

That tiny blip of time when I ran The Blend taught me that the best businesses aren't just about what you're selling, but about the space you create for people to be human together.

And now, 13 years later, as I'm building what hopefully will be a thriving portfolio career, this is something that would have seemed impossible to my younger self: those €4,000 weren't an expense, they were the smartest investment I ever made.

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What €4,000 in coffee actually bought me

Here's what business schools get wrong about networking, they think it happens in conference rooms and LinkedIn messages, but real connections happen over shared tables and accidental conversations.

Because here's what that money actually bought me: five genuine friendships and two business deals that changed my trajectory completely.

The friendship with Alisia started over a shared table at Café Merci when her laptop died and I offered my charger. Three hours later, we'd mapped out a business strategy that became my first freelance contract. Learning about SEO with Marcus happened at Off Campus, where we bonded over the construction noise on the street, and ended up collaborating on a project that's still paying part of my bills today.

Then there was the morning at The Coffee when I struck up a conversation with the woman frantically taking notes in a Moleskine. She was opening her first café and desperately needed help with her operational systems. That conversation led to my first consulting gig, which led to three more, which led to the realization that my future wasn't in corporate employment, it was in helping other café owners create the magic I'd experienced at The Blend.

Each cup wasn't just research, it was networking, relationship building, and business development disguised as a caffeine habit.

Here's what really changed after The Blend closed: I never just "grabbed coffee" again. I couldn't. Once you've seen behind the curtain, once you understand what's really happening in these spaces, every café visit becomes deliberate.

When I walk into these spaces now, I'm not just buying a flat white. I'm investing in the conversation I might have with the person at the next table. I'm studying the operational flow that I might suggest to my next client. I'm watching how successful café owners create community, manage peak hours, design spaces that encourage lingering.

Sure, I could have made my coffee at home. I could have saved that money, built a proper emergency fund, been more "responsible." But then I would have missed the connections that became the foundation of my new life.

The Blend taught me that the best businesses create space for people to be human together. But it also taught me that growth requires taking risks on investments that don't always make immediate sense, because sometimes, you have to spend money to make money.

And in a world that's increasingly digital, increasingly isolated, increasingly artificial, that's not just money well spent, it's the foundation of everything I'm building now.

So here's what I'm doing this week, and I want you to join me

I'm spending my mornings working from different cafés here in southern Spain. My goal: introduce myself to at least one person per café, ask the owners about their biggest operational challenge, and document what happens when we choose connection over comfort.

I'll share everything in next week's newsletter, the awkward moments, the surprising conversations, the business insights, maybe even the next friendship that changes someone's career trajectory.

Because the best ideas, the real, original, unfiltered ones, they rarely come from our screens. They come from the conversations we choose to have when we finally look up from them.

Who's in?

Julie

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P.S. If you try this experiment, tag me. I want to hear what happens when you turn your coffee break into a connection opportunity.