It’s not about the coffee at all, is it — it’s about being recognized without having to explain yourself. A place where you don’t need a reason to sit, think, or just be slightly undone in public. That third space isn’t a luxury; it’s a nervous-system need.
I felt that Christmas-morning scan of closed doors so viscerally. Sometimes home is too close to your own thoughts, and what you need is a familiar room with just enough distance from yourself.
The cafés that survive won’t be the biggest or prettiest — they’ll be the ones that remember we’re not just customers. We’re returners.
I do like how you picture cafés as a space for our nervous system to calm down and be at peace, especially when home is too close and there is no other room to go to be a little more yourself. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
I nearly cried reading this. I have no café at the moment and there is a gaping hole in my life. I completely agree with Peter Jansen that it is essential infrastructure.
Three years ago I moved out of London to the soulless suburban outskirts. I married a man with two children and the move was essential for him to be closer to them. But the loss of an almost endless number of "perfect cafés" was saddening. Our new area is a densely-packed suburban sprawl on top of a hill. There is no café within real walking distance, the closest one is about a mile down the hill, and coming back would mean a 45-minute uphill trek on foot, so it's a car journey realistically.
That down-the-hill café would be perfect. It has everything you would need, fantastic window seats, a good buzz (being the only independent), great coffee and a steady supply of fresh baked goods. Some of the downside would be catching it at the wrong time and it's filled with mothers and screeching children and babies.
I burned out and lost my corporate job in London at the beginning of this year. I spent a month holed up at home, feeling even more cut-off from the city but when Spring arrived in May, I felt a bit more energised and determined to explore the area. I packed up my MacBook and decided to walk down to the café, a good one hour+ return journey. I thought I could start refreshing my CV, catch up on SubStack and just be around people for the first time in weeks. There was a little courtyard out back that I discovered and I found a table in the dappled light under a tree. There was a teenage girl doing some studying a few tables away and two women catching up quietly in the corner. I took out my computer, pulled up my CV and felt ready to tackle the job hunt in front of me. Pleased to bits that I'd found... the perfect café.
As I took my first sip of coffee, the owner of the café came rushing over to me. And, with the kind of tone reserved only for your least favourite teacher or headmistress, told me that I was not allowed to use my computer. They have a no laptop policy as it "ruins their vibe". I get that any business or café can decide how they want their place to be but I was devastated. The loss of the possibility of a comfortable and welcoming third space in an area I was already struggling to be in really hurt me - I felt admonished and belittled. My eyes stung with tears as I tried to finish my coffee and read some of my book but I couldn't do it. I abandoned the coffee and made my way home, 45-minutes up the steep hill and vowing to never go back.
So, I have now taken to driving to find the next perfect café. I keep returning to the same Gail's 20 minutes away. It has an upstairs seating area that is usually filled with others like me, but is only good for writing as there is no phone signal or hope of good wi-fi for a SubStack scroll or inbox clear out. There's another not far away that seemed perfect at first. Good window seating, lots of other people on computers or having meetings, good coffee but the baked goods were truly terrible (half-baked banana bread) and on closer inspection all of the community posters and pamphlets felt quite... churchy. I realised there was a new age church around the back and before leaving was asked if I would be interested in joining a bible study in the café later in the week. I practically sprinted down the road to my car.
I am counting down until we can be back in London, or at least a town that better suits our lifestyle and need for community. And the non-negotiable would be more than one independent café with good seating, a space to work and people watching.
I have never been there before, somehow every place I've moved to and this is a long list, I have been able to find that one café - though I will say in France, cafés ban laptops, especially during lunchtime hours.
But I do understand your ache and the only time I felt quite the same way as you do was when I moved to Cape Town and worked in a very "business/industrial" area but in fact, that prompted me to open my own café which I did. South Africa, back then, was very affordable and opening a small business wasn't quite regulated hence I got lucky.
I really hope you get to move back to a place where there are many cafés and you can find your new own café to be in - and that you also find a career, a job, or a journey that lights you up.
Thank you so much for sharing your story with me (us) over here.
Cafe Allegro, Seattle's oldest espresso bar, always stays open on holidays, specifically for folks that can go home or need to not be at home. It's in the University District so of course there are many who need a friendly face on holidays.
There are a few coffeehouses throughout my life I missed desperately when I moved to a new place.
Julie, this landed just right.
It’s not about the coffee at all, is it — it’s about being recognized without having to explain yourself. A place where you don’t need a reason to sit, think, or just be slightly undone in public. That third space isn’t a luxury; it’s a nervous-system need.
I felt that Christmas-morning scan of closed doors so viscerally. Sometimes home is too close to your own thoughts, and what you need is a familiar room with just enough distance from yourself.
The cafés that survive won’t be the biggest or prettiest — they’ll be the ones that remember we’re not just customers. We’re returners.
💛 Kelly
I do like how you picture cafés as a space for our nervous system to calm down and be at peace, especially when home is too close and there is no other room to go to be a little more yourself. Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
We tend to view 'That One Cafe' as a luxury—a place to pause. But I view it as infrastructure.
In a world that is becoming increasingly digital and atomized, these physical nodes are the only things keeping the human mesh network intact.
It isn’t just about the coffee. It’s about having a 'Third Place' where the signal-to-noise ratio is managed by humans, not algorithms.
You aren't just buying a drink; you are paying rent on your sanity.
Protect these spaces.
I think you’ll enjoy another essays of mine joining your thinking ☺️ https://open.substack.com/pub/thecoffeedispatch/p/how-pariss-tiny-cafes-are-helping
Brilliant, a vital observation, Julie. Thank you.
I have been in the search of my one cafe since I’ve moved to Brooklyn! It’s such a feeling to have that space to go to!
I nearly cried reading this. I have no café at the moment and there is a gaping hole in my life. I completely agree with Peter Jansen that it is essential infrastructure.
Three years ago I moved out of London to the soulless suburban outskirts. I married a man with two children and the move was essential for him to be closer to them. But the loss of an almost endless number of "perfect cafés" was saddening. Our new area is a densely-packed suburban sprawl on top of a hill. There is no café within real walking distance, the closest one is about a mile down the hill, and coming back would mean a 45-minute uphill trek on foot, so it's a car journey realistically.
That down-the-hill café would be perfect. It has everything you would need, fantastic window seats, a good buzz (being the only independent), great coffee and a steady supply of fresh baked goods. Some of the downside would be catching it at the wrong time and it's filled with mothers and screeching children and babies.
I burned out and lost my corporate job in London at the beginning of this year. I spent a month holed up at home, feeling even more cut-off from the city but when Spring arrived in May, I felt a bit more energised and determined to explore the area. I packed up my MacBook and decided to walk down to the café, a good one hour+ return journey. I thought I could start refreshing my CV, catch up on SubStack and just be around people for the first time in weeks. There was a little courtyard out back that I discovered and I found a table in the dappled light under a tree. There was a teenage girl doing some studying a few tables away and two women catching up quietly in the corner. I took out my computer, pulled up my CV and felt ready to tackle the job hunt in front of me. Pleased to bits that I'd found... the perfect café.
As I took my first sip of coffee, the owner of the café came rushing over to me. And, with the kind of tone reserved only for your least favourite teacher or headmistress, told me that I was not allowed to use my computer. They have a no laptop policy as it "ruins their vibe". I get that any business or café can decide how they want their place to be but I was devastated. The loss of the possibility of a comfortable and welcoming third space in an area I was already struggling to be in really hurt me - I felt admonished and belittled. My eyes stung with tears as I tried to finish my coffee and read some of my book but I couldn't do it. I abandoned the coffee and made my way home, 45-minutes up the steep hill and vowing to never go back.
So, I have now taken to driving to find the next perfect café. I keep returning to the same Gail's 20 minutes away. It has an upstairs seating area that is usually filled with others like me, but is only good for writing as there is no phone signal or hope of good wi-fi for a SubStack scroll or inbox clear out. There's another not far away that seemed perfect at first. Good window seating, lots of other people on computers or having meetings, good coffee but the baked goods were truly terrible (half-baked banana bread) and on closer inspection all of the community posters and pamphlets felt quite... churchy. I realised there was a new age church around the back and before leaving was asked if I would be interested in joining a bible study in the café later in the week. I practically sprinted down the road to my car.
I am counting down until we can be back in London, or at least a town that better suits our lifestyle and need for community. And the non-negotiable would be more than one independent café with good seating, a space to work and people watching.
oh and your comment gave me shivers Amy.
I have never been there before, somehow every place I've moved to and this is a long list, I have been able to find that one café - though I will say in France, cafés ban laptops, especially during lunchtime hours.
But I do understand your ache and the only time I felt quite the same way as you do was when I moved to Cape Town and worked in a very "business/industrial" area but in fact, that prompted me to open my own café which I did. South Africa, back then, was very affordable and opening a small business wasn't quite regulated hence I got lucky.
I really hope you get to move back to a place where there are many cafés and you can find your new own café to be in - and that you also find a career, a job, or a journey that lights you up.
Thank you so much for sharing your story with me (us) over here.
You had a café in Cape Town?! I’m from Joburg and before moving here spent a lot of time working in Cape Town. Where was it?
It was called The Blend in the City Bowl area of Cape Town :)
What a coincidence, wow!
Drinking coffee in my truck is perfect at times.
Cafe Allegro, Seattle's oldest espresso bar, always stays open on holidays, specifically for folks that can go home or need to not be at home. It's in the University District so of course there are many who need a friendly face on holidays.
There are a few coffeehouses throughout my life I missed desperately when I moved to a new place.
hear hear, I have had the same feeling with so many cafés I visited in the different cities I lived in - thank you for sharing ☕️