Public opinion reflects new stance
What was more peculiar was that geographical location didn't impact their originality; across the globe coffee houses sprang up, independently from each other, reaching the same end point.
The new generic coffee houses of the 21st century had matching features across the board, alongside their claims of authenticity.
Large storefront windows allowing for ample daylight, industrial-size wood tables to make using your laptop easy, and a bright or minimal interior with walls either distressed, painted white, or covered in subway tiles/exposed brick: does this sound familiar?
Although the new hipster coffee houses were born from a rebellion against corporate hegemony, many offered similar menus and aesthetics.
The flat white was born; espresso started to be fashionably roasted, milk alternatives were more common as the idea of a plant-based lifestyle went mainstream, and elaborate latte art became the norm.
The digital creates a geography-free world, one where certain features are inoffensive and appeal to a large, specific demographic.
When you are in one of these coffee houses, you could be anywhere in the world, such is the power of the generic hipster coffee house aesthetic.
Exactly how they were authentic was less clear. In spite of springing up organically, they were a result of the 2010s social media algorithm-defining culture: a phenomenon of sameness.
The Instagram aesthetic was put at the top of searches or highlighted in maps, driving the likes from the digital world into real-life sales.
The changeable nature of social media aesthetic preferences makes pursuing a single trend a risky business. After the initial hype dies out, we're all left with the algorithmic monotony.
Sources: (The Guardian)
See also: What exactly is cottagecore?
Customers rewarded coffee houses with business and, if they were impressed enough, would post about them on their own social media account.
Homogeneity became even more entrenched, as the trend appeared to have become the expected norm. The sameness remained the same.
The Brooklyn-inspired industrial look was dialed down in favor of Scandinavian minimalism, a nod to another aesthetic trend of the 2010s: normcore.
And so, the rinse and repeat cycle of aesthetic optimization and homogenization continued, becoming less of a "style" and more of a way of life.
As a certain aesthetic dominated social media platforms, it became a good business decision to adapt to the norms molded by it.
Apps like Foursquare, Yelp, and Google Maps offered images and reviews that drove people who followed a similar aesthetic on Instagram to these coffee houses in real life.
In true hipster irony, spaces that were meant to be places of individuality became globalized and increasingly monotonous.
Similar to the aesthetic leanings of other decades, and combined with the millennial coffee obsession, the hipster coffee house trend went beyond an aesthetic.
As Instagram usage grew, it made it possible for baristas to follow each other. Through algorithmic choices, they were able to find and consume similar content.
One of the defining features of the 2010s was the "hipster coffee" movement. In a turn away from the homogenous, big chain coffee experience, people were craving something different.
The phenomenon was no longer limited to coffee shops: co-working spaces, hotels, restaurants, and start-up offices all adopted it, as physical space was itself turned into a product.
A more modernist take, spindly leg chairs made space for uncomfortable, backless geometric boxes, while there were less lights made from plumbing fixtures and more plants instead.
As with any style, at some point the dominant aesthetic's appeal began to wane. Small changes were made to move away from the cliché.
As the algorithm exposes you to more and more of what's similar to what you (or people with a similar social media profile to you) have previously liked, personal tastes began to merge.
The proclaimed hipster philosophy of the 2010s was one of using products that would display your uniqueness in the world of the mainstream.
Again, it fit the wider millennial trend of plant-mania. However, style was less important than paring things down to the fundamentals.
No longer restricted to just coffee shops, you could also expect to find it in places including beer halls, gastropubs, Airbnbs, and art galleries.
The phenomenon of the "Instagram wall" appeared, and hipster cafés weren't immune. It was created specifically as a place where you could take photos to post online. Some incorporated other trends, like the ubiquitous shade of "millennial pink" that was trending with brands at the time.
Posting to your own Instagram became a lifestyle brag, as well as providing free advertising to coffee houses so they could attract new customers.
The more things change, the more they stay the same it would seem. In an increasingly globalized world, a common style or aesthetic emerged in the 2010s that took the coffee shop world by storm. Perhaps it was an inevitable outcome of a combination of factors: the emerging world of social media presence and marketing, the millennial penchant for coffee, and a pared-back look that appeared somber in the face of the Great Recession. Whatever the reason, we are left with a legacy of coffee shops worldwide that look more or less the same.
How did it happen? Click on the following gallery to find out.
What's behind most coffee shops looking the same?
The curse of the unoriginal
LIFESTYLE Culture
The more things change, the more they stay the same it would seem. In an increasingly globalized world, a common style or aesthetic emerged in the 2010s that took the coffee shop world by storm. Perhaps it was an inevitable outcome of a combination of factors: the emerging world of social media presence and marketing, the millennial penchant for coffee, and a pared-back look that appeared somber in the face of the Great Recession. Whatever the reason, we are left with a legacy of coffee shops worldwide that look more or less the same.
How did it happen? Click on the following gallery to find out.