Coffee Shops: The Importance of Connection in Spacemaking
My go-to coffee order? An iced vanilla latte, half-sweet. It’s easy to order and hard to mess up. Most days I make my own coffee and enjoy the process, but I equally enjoy going to a coffee shop for the overall experience. I think most people have their own version of this; whether it’s stopping by a favorite bookstore or running the same trail at a park, we all have familiar places and routines that we enjoy and have a personal connection to. In architecture, we have the opportunity to design for that sentiment – and create spaces that go beyond just being functional. To me, that intention is what turns a building or space into a place people feel comfortable in and connect with.
So, coffee. I grew up in a household that runs on instant coffee, brewed daily at 6am. I also spent most of my childhood summers in Mexico, where coffee is a common offering at any time of day – and customary to drink with dinner (no matter how late). It’s been a constant in my life since I can remember. When I make my coffee before work, I take my time and slow down to enjoy the routine. Cup. Ice. Syrup. Milk. Espresso. Stir. Yum. It is meant to be peaceful for me.
I understand that for many, coffee isn’t as special (and some flat out hate the taste). I also understand the preference for something convenient and universal. But I think it’s nice to lean into creating something more than that. That’s why I’ve grown to really appreciate coffee shops that create their own identity and in turn, a unique experience.
My favorite coffee shop back home is actually a tiny bright pink coffee trailer, called Southbound Coffee. It is parked in a lot in south central San Antonio, with tables, chairs and umbrellas surrounding the truck. Parking can be a pain, and it’s roughly a twenty-minute drive from my house. But every time I go back home, it is a non-negotiable stop. For starters, they take into consideration the local community and use flavors that San Antonians know well (horchata, cajeta, hibiscus). Not only are these less common to find in other places, but they bring a sense of familiarity to the drinks (and experience) provided.
I have my own familiar routine now – any time I visit, I pick up my older brother first. We both get the exact same drink, every time. We get to catch up on the drive there, and while we sit to wait for our drinks. We’re both similar in that we take hours to finish our drinks – hours that we spend talking about anything and everything. It’s genuinely one of my favorite moments when I go back home, and I look forward to it every time.
I mention this because as an aspiring architect, it’s moments like these that ground and remind me of the type of practice I am pursuing. I’d love to create these kinds of spaces for people, where they can create a deeper and personal connection. Something that serves as a source of comfort, even. Think about it – even if it’s a space like a hospital, or a school – wouldn’t it improve your experience to feel like it’s more than just a building? I believe there is a beautiful balance that architects can strike where a space can be fully functional, and designed to meet all requirements, while still maintaining a positive and unique experience for the end user. Those are the kinds of spaces that typically stay with us, and the kinds of spaces I aspire to help create.
So, coffee. I genuinely enjoy seeing how different of an experience I can have sipping on the same drink at different coffee shops. In Seattle, I got to enjoy natural ventilation and an interesting column-to-wall-to-ceiling detail in an office building lobby full of corporate suits and, ironically, remote workers. In Milan, I got to enjoy seeing the bustle of people rushing in and out of a pop-up coffee shop that gets assembled at 4AM and disassembled by 4PM, leaving almost no trace next to the adjacent centuries-old buildings. True to its nature, Houston’s easily the most diverse in terms of experience and flavors – even after 4 years of living here, I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface in what I’ve tried (but if you’re wondering, Luce Coffee Roasters is my local favorite).
I think about these coffee shops – there are so many intentional and considerate decisions made to affect your experience (and make you want to come back). Those same decisions can be made throughout the lifespan of any project. I can honestly say that I see this kind of consideration in our day-to-day at Project Luong. If we’re designing an indoor waterpark, well now we’re thinking about the kids at the swim meet and how to make sure circulation works, so that they aren’t slipping and falling when they go to change back into their regular clothes. If it’s a police station, now we’re thinking about the sensitivity that comes with reporting a serious situation, and how we design the space to provide safety and privacy without interrupting crucial operations. Those are just two of the many instances where questions are asked beyond the typical considerations of aesthetics, code, and coordination of systems.
This is the part of architecture that motivates me to continue exploring and learning through new experiences.