Primo Passo Coffee Co.

This morning after my massage I wandered down the street to get some coffee. I knew there was a Starbucks on the corner, but then I noticed this sweet little coffee shop across the street. I walked in and was immediately taken with the wide, airy-white space. It was clean and bright and urban--like something straight out of San Francisco. I loved the Swedish-style architecture and design--notably the cluster lighting elements over the long, raised bar in the back. Simple brown bags with minimalist typography packaged their coffees in neat rows. The only art on the walls was a large giclee print of an old, bearded and bespectacled man from the late 19th-century. White, brown, and black everywhere; The only pops of color came in the shape of beautiful macaroons, artisan chocolate bars and a few orange ranunculus.

The coffee bar was really like an actual bar. The baristas mixed, clamped, shook and stirred the drinks just like mixologists. My iced coffee was so strong and delightfully flavored. Although I didn't indulge, the pastries looked fresh and were super tempting.

I was taking a few photos and a pretty woman approached me asking, "Is this your first time here?"

"Yeah it is," I replied.

"Welcome. What do you think?"

"It's pretty fantastic. What a beautiful space. And this coffee is really great! Do you own the store?" I had see her run around the back of the bar to offer to help out a few moments before. 

"Yeah, me and my husband started it two years ago. Enjoy your coffee, thanks for coming in!" She smiled and gracefully poured milk into a saucer of coffee. She was bleached blonde, tan, wearing sneakers. Typical Santa Monican. But something about her screamed Europe. She sat down next to her handsome, lithe husband and they quietly and contently sipped their coffees and read the newspaper. I smiled thinking how nice it would be to come to such a beautiful place every day and think, We made this. 



Popular posts from this blog

Lola Kirke | EP

A Few Things I've Recently Purchased

Scattered Thoughts