So, here's the thing.
Last Thursday, between overpriced Pilates and dramatically underpriced vintage shopping (yes, I'm looking at you, $12 Marc Jacobs slip dress—I mean, was it fate?!), something magical happened.
I was having the kind of morning that makes you question everything—you know, when your dry shampoo fails you and your oat milk goes off in your coffee and maybe you almost cry over that weird text your ex sent (which ended with just “k cool”). Oh, and I had exactly 8 minutes to get downtown for a collab shoot I definitely was not camera-ready for.
So naturally, I did what any emotionally stable woman with a closet full of suede boots in July would do:
I ducked into the first coffee shop I could find.
Location, Vibes, and Other Essential Details
Now, before we go any further—no, I’m not telling you EXACTLY where this place is. Yet. I mean, do I want it overrun with everyone and their matcha-loving mother? No. But also yes because they deserve all the success.
Let’s just say it’s somewhere between Nolita and a good life decision.
I stepped in mostly because the font on the sign looked like it was designed by someone who wears Comme des Garçons but still calls their mom every Sunday. And also? It smelled like love and warm pastries and that one time you actually had a great third date.
The place was tiny—you know, the kind where you could actually talk to someone without yelling over someone's “deep house meets ambient jazz” playlist. There were plants, but not in a “I live in Brooklyn and name my succulents” way. Just, like, casual-ficus.
And behind the counter?
There. He. Was.
The Barista. Let’s Discuss.
Brown curls. Soft smile. Vintage Bowie tee. Eyes like they’d listened to your favorite guilty-pleasure playlist and weren’t judging you for knowing every lyric to “Oops!… I Did It Again.”
So of course I panicked.
Me: “Um, coffee. Espresso? That has no milk? Or sugar? I mean unless it should?”
Him: “You want an espresso?”
Me: “If that’s what people are doing these days, then yes.”
(He smiled. SMILED. Like I was charming and not a total caffeine-deprived disaster.)
He pulled the espresso. There was eye contact. There was steam. (Literal and possibly metaphorical.) He placed the tiniest white porcelain cup in front of me like it was a love letter from his Italian nona.
And friends—when I say I tasted it and my soul did a pirouette? I mean, I nearly cried. It was like if velvet and chocolate had a baby raised by really classy people who read poetry and composted.
What Was This Espresso Sorcery?
As it turns out, he sources the beans from a tiny farm in Guatemala, roasts them himself, and grinds them fresh every morning. He even named the espresso blend after his grandmother, who taught him how to make pan dulce when he was six.
I KNOW. Just let that image sit with you for a minute.
“It’s not fancy,” he said, “but it’s honest.”
I think that’s when I fell a teensy tiny bit in love.
Other Things I Noticed While Pretending Not to Watch Him
- He gave a free cookie to a little girl who was having a tantrum and called her “kiddo.”
- He complimented a woman’s vintage trench coat without making it weird.
- He offered a customer a different roast when they didn’t love their cappuccino. Who even does that?
So, About That Soulmate Part…
Okay. Look. I don’t believe in soulmates. (Except I do. And I always, always have.)
Maybe he’s not mine.
Or maybe he’s just a really great barista who made my morning feel less like a crisis and more like a moment.
But as I sipped my espresso slowly at the little marble table by the window, I realized something: This is why I moved to New York.
For magic in unexpected corners.
For flavor that makes your eyes close.
For beautiful strangers who might just be little soft miracles in denim aprons.
Rachel’s Tiny List of Espresso Wisdom:
- If you find yourself lost in the city: follow the smell of coffee, not the scent of validation.
- Drink it slow. Life’s too weird and short for lukewarm espresso.
- Always—always—tell the barista when it’s the best espresso you’ve ever had. It might matter more than you think.
And yes—I went back today.
He remembered my name.
I’ll keep you posted. ☕💘
xoxo,
Rachel
