mood in a place: yogi's cafe
Yogi's Cafe emanates the air of a dream. It is without a doubt the charming result of the careful crafting of some kind soul who found herself in requirement of a haven from the crueler parts of this world. Warmth resides in every corner and detail of the little shop, from the earthy color scheme to the soft lights twinkling from industrial fixtures. There is not a dark corner to be found.
There is one counter where orders are taken, money is exchanged, and flaky pastries and subtle lattes are placed and eagerly received by waiting patrons.
From my seat, the wall directly across me is painted with a minimalistic map overlaid by a mug of coffee. Squat chairs and tables-mismatched in design, but well suited in aesthetic-invite customers to linger. Though not crowded by any means, there are enough other patrons to ensure a newcomer such as myself that this culinary gem is not unappreciated by any means.
The two women to my furthest left maintain a jaunty stream of gossip which collides with the self-possessed tones of the businessmen seated beside me.
To my right is a pair who are obviously on a first date, as their conversation flits noncommittally from the best way to commute to Chicago to the highlights of steady employment.
As the caffeine rush has obviously passed, the only two baristas lean solicitously against the gleaming wooden counter. The one, who reflects a pixie spirit with her numerous braids and flower tattoos- shines mugs and scrubs at non-existent spots on the counter.
The other warms her hands on a steaming mug, keeping up a steady stream of conversation with a man who has stood at the counter for the better part of the hour. He neglects his coffee, obviously more attentive to the sunny companionship available to him.
From the technical requirements one might list for a worthy cafe-fair prices, quality products, helpful staff- to the more subtle standards that our quiet hearts long for- warmth, comfortable chairs, and delicately formed latte art- Yogi's is altogether unlacking in both the realized and unrealized standards we desire in a local watering hole.
There is one counter where orders are taken, money is exchanged, and flaky pastries and subtle lattes are placed and eagerly received by waiting patrons.
From my seat, the wall directly across me is painted with a minimalistic map overlaid by a mug of coffee. Squat chairs and tables-mismatched in design, but well suited in aesthetic-invite customers to linger. Though not crowded by any means, there are enough other patrons to ensure a newcomer such as myself that this culinary gem is not unappreciated by any means.
The two women to my furthest left maintain a jaunty stream of gossip which collides with the self-possessed tones of the businessmen seated beside me.
To my right is a pair who are obviously on a first date, as their conversation flits noncommittally from the best way to commute to Chicago to the highlights of steady employment.
As the caffeine rush has obviously passed, the only two baristas lean solicitously against the gleaming wooden counter. The one, who reflects a pixie spirit with her numerous braids and flower tattoos- shines mugs and scrubs at non-existent spots on the counter.
The other warms her hands on a steaming mug, keeping up a steady stream of conversation with a man who has stood at the counter for the better part of the hour. He neglects his coffee, obviously more attentive to the sunny companionship available to him.
From the technical requirements one might list for a worthy cafe-fair prices, quality products, helpful staff- to the more subtle standards that our quiet hearts long for- warmth, comfortable chairs, and delicately formed latte art- Yogi's is altogether unlacking in both the realized and unrealized standards we desire in a local watering hole.
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