Riding the gravy train?

So in my daily perusal of the Guardian website (because I am a white, middle-class intellectual and also not willing to actually buy a newspaper/leave the house) I spotted an article concerning Starbucks changing their logo;

read the article

While the section itself seems somewhat odd; as noted in the comments section, money is quite obviously not one of the company's main concerns, the remodelling itself is interesting. Starbucks already monopolises the 'second-wave' coffee sector but is it trying to make itself look less corporate by removing the name from its logo?

Anyone with an ounce of sense or more than a single tastebud knows that the company's self-proclaimed embrace of fair trade, organic and global coffee is an exercise in manipulation and really, who gives a fuck because the drinks suck and the franchise pushes out so many smaller businesses. Many of the coffee shops I frequent use plain take-out cups, or stamp their logo/name on the side which I find pretty cool but looking at the Starbucks simplified, anonymous logo makes me wonder if they are trying to rip this style off.

Starbucks is so under my give-a-fuck radar that this doesn't bother me as much as intrigues; I'd be interested to know their motivations behind this.

Marwood

Ship St, Brighton

k Brighton, I get it. Honestly I do. I know your ways. You're so cool and cute and edgy and fun. You have the vegetarian shoe shop and a milkshake store and American Apparel and the most expensive Oxfam IN THE WORLD and everyone is white, middle class and too educated to get a useful job. Marwood is like...it's like a classier student union coffee shop. They sell 'fancy' ramen/Pot Noodle and call the extra 30p for soymilk a 'tax' and the walls have dumpstered 'art' on them.

 




But part of my mission is to try different things (ugh, make it stop) so I took my brothers there for coffee.

The 'barista' (let's be honest here, he hadn't earned that title) announced as we ordered that it was his last day so he didn't give a fuck. Great, awesome, please don't jerk off into my coffee, I will probably catch 5 million diseases. I got a flat white with soy.

 

Like really...really...what is that? I appreciate the effort but Tom gets a Nightmare Before Christmas-esque deviantArt heart and I get what my friend Eric later described as a 'white dwarf'. Perhaps it was interpretative foam art - I am definitely white and while not technically a dwarf, I am quite short.

It was ok coffee. Will not be going back. The fake cat was funny for five minutes but that sort of novelty will not win me over, Marwood.

Sacred Cafe

Carnaby St/Covent Garden, London

Carnaby Street likes to think it's really cool because it has like, boutique shops and the Vans store is there but really it's just Oxford Street minus a few thousand people. Aka, still my own personal hell. Sometimes I wonder why I moved to London and then I remember it's because I thought I was too cool for Brighton (more fool me as I run back, tail between my legs). I have, however, perfected my own personal blend of industrial strength misanthropic vitriol which allows me to continue existing in a non-hermetic state. As a result, I braved central London to meet my friend James.

I hadn't heard of Sacred Cafe so it was on his recommendation (always appreciated as the internet can be a somewhat dubious resource and there's only so much you can gain from Time Out).

Turns out it's a really nice coffee shop and manages to trick you into thinking you're not in Cunt Central which is quite an achievement. Due to the location the queue was always pretty long but w/e I will wait 5 mins for something once I know it's worth it (5 mins is sometimes generous twss).

Larger coffees than places like Nude or Flat White but the taste wasn't particularly compromised. Very friendly baristas, nice food, reasonably priced. I made James order me a long soy macchiato which might even be worse than 'double shot mocha with soy and vegan chocolate'.

The day after I went to get my hair cut as part of my high-functioning emotional breakdown and went to the Covent Garden shop which was not as nice but the coffee was just as good. They use their own blend which I would probably buy to use at home if I didn't already have 4 bags of beans on the go (I have no life).

Bea's of Bloomsbury

Holborn, London

I know everyone still buttfucks cutesy cupcake culture but it's not something I am massively into. I don't have much of a sweet tooth and tend to think of cake as a pointless addition to life that will never make you feel anything more than regret for eating it. As of now, my only 'vice' is coffee and I am totally fine with that, why the fuck would I eat cake to make up for not drinking or smoking? Idiotic. This is why people get obese: cupcakes are a gateway drug. They're small so you think they don't count but therein lies your mistake, fatty. Have an apple.

Anyway, baked-goods based rants aside, the coffee here is really quite good. They use Square Mile AND Bonsoy so that is 2 A+ before I've even tried it. I had 2 flat whites and both were great. The shop was cold as fuck though, and putting the heating on isn't gonna break the bank guys, obviously you make a pretty penny via frosting and if I wanted to freeze my ass off while I discussed disillusionment and possible future spinsterdom I would sit at home.

Fig. 1: return of the blob. Personally I think it resembles an infected vagina (vile gash?). Artfully rendered at least. Almost Picasso-esque but with less of the classical Cubism; the fluidity of the blobs suggests a move away from the harsh, boxed in quality of his earlier work.

Obviously Bea's coffee does not suffer from the shop's focus on food and cakes, which is nice and somewhat of a novelty. Unfortunately, and this is not their fault, I am like the antichrist of twee and objects like this <<< offend mine eyes greatly.

On the way home I bought a life-sized skull tealight holder. Fuck you, cakestand.

Redwood Coffee

Trafalgar Street, Brighton

Another new-ish shop by the sea. One downside of moving back there from London is that there are only really a few good places compared to the capital city. Taylor St is great but I am worried that they will think I am mental if I go in every day and start recognizing when I've had a haircut or compliment me on my new shoes. Actually that would make them more mental than me.

Redwood is biiiig and pretty cute/kitschy as you'd expect from being spitting distance from the Laines. Mostly Kiwi baristas and they play that godfuckingawful trippy chillout hip hop. It is cheap though (no Bonsoy but they don't charge any extra for soymilk) and last time I got a 3 shot soy flat white for the same price as a regular...pretty sure the barista was high as fuck though and I am not basing that on the fact he had dreadlocks as fucking TODDLERS have dreadlocks in Brighton. Fuck my life, this is why I don't go outside unless totally necessary, the world is actually disgusting.

The foam art seen here is a Monet-esque reinterpretation of a fern. I seriously think everyone who works there is high, you know those photos of when a spider weaves a web after it's been smoked out? >>>>>>>>>>