Urbanités
Click right to take a look around…
The French cobblestone lead-up is a feat but—walking under the most beautiful dark emerald garage door, past the Flamant HOME INTERIORS vignette, and into what was definitely once just a carport—you make it to your destination...just beyond the plastic bins of bamboo set on the cafe’s third level of entry: a grounded wood patio. The interior seems to lightly blush. What I mean is that there are some wood elements, a trunk core behind the counter, the counter wall, and the first room’s tables, yet one lit peach orb and pinky brown chairs add a little rouge. What more contributes to this tint? The Easter core. This cafe is the only one I’ve seen lean at all into the holiday, and with bunny masks fused to the wall, baskets of eggs and glazed bunny miniatures, wreaths, flowery medallions, and two egg rattan rings on either side of the entryway—almost acting as a continuation of the Urbanites window decals, forever a total eclipse—it takes a dive. It’s not to the scale of every-table overkill, but it’s certainly someone joyously taking part in the holiday. Beyond this main space, the cafe keeps going, one room to disappear into and another that lets you play apparition with a half-frosted window to the outside world and a glassless window into the initial point of entry. Nestled into this glassless window, a cubical cutout, are two gray vases striking a Snowth resemblance and an enormous Illy coffee cup and saucer. There might be something misleading about a name like urbanities, especially if one finds themselves in this grayer room with some lingering woven elements, a bird cage, and a fire engine red crate. However, to that I’d say it depends on which definition you are seeking kinship with. Refinement and courteousness are disputable, but the common understanding of urban life—getting different views from the front, middle, or back of the bus or watching from the roof, second floor, or lobby—is a gratifying translation. Taken together—the feeling the passing wind of a small boy from a family running from the back room to the front to look at the cakes, sitting midway and observing noiselessly with my empty cup, and catching through my wall viewfinder a task-oriented woman quickly taking the first chair she saw and settling in for a latte and some work—educes passable urban, multi-sensory mimicry.
SCROLL DOWN
SCROLL DOWN
For More
〰️
For More 〰️
Drink: Allongé
An Illy allonge that was totally fine. I have no complaints. It had a sensational smell going for it, and the taste was clean. The temperature was also very nice, and it was a decent size. It wasn’t enough to finish my protein bar with it, but that just means that I was able to drink it smoothly—no resistance. I must admit that I’m glad that I didn't get a milk drink. Someone ordered a milk-based drink and I could hear the steam wand: like someone shrieking in a deep down tunnel, a subjection to the lengthening of the sound waves lowering the pitch.