Une aberration

While getting reacquainted with the streets of Paris yesterday I saw something that made me stop dead in my tracks: Starbucks. In Paris.

I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise. Starbucks, after all has been in France since early 2004, but this was the first time I actually came face to face with it in Paris. And it was eerie.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a cup of coffee just as much as anybody else, even when it's as overpriced and acrid at times like at Starbucks. Starbucks, above all, is known for selling a delightful consumer experience, and has been extremely successful at that. I can't say I've tried the 18-months-in-the-making Dulce de Leche Latte quite yet, but I'm a sucker for a good Caffè Mocha. Sometimes–I admit–I even go to Starbucks to order a short cappuccino, just to see the reaction on the barrista's face when I utterly blow their mind.

But there was something distinctly peculiar with seeing yet another American commercial monolith ensconce itself in France, moreover, in a niche market that common wisdom would deem quite impenetrable. It was like when I first saw McDonald's in India. Totally counter-intuitive.

Yet, there they were. Customers happily enjoying their Starbucks coffee... including my brother, sister-in-law and wife. I did what any other Frenchman would do in that situation: I stood outside, pouting in their general direction.

Don't get me wrong. I consider myself an enlightened individual. I believe in, and totally enjoy the fruits of American exceptionalism. But I'm not going to lie. Starbucks in Paris is an aberration. And I say this with a straight face, even after finally finishing my copy of the The World Is Flat on the plane ride to France:

Starbucks' coffee-to-go model in France goes against the cultural grain of an entire nation where coffee is a state-of-being, usually served by moody waiters at a zinc bar or on a street corner. Prendre un café is something you do while seated... and you dutifully go through the motions of it all–even if you have pressing matters to attend to. What's 15 minutes out of 35 hours, anyway??

But here's the thing. Starbucks could very well supplant France's coffee culture in this era of globalization. Why? Because that day, amidst the patrons quietly sipping their Starbucks concoctions, was a group of French teenagers gathered around one of their friends doing his very best rendition of Justin Timberlake's My Love. His French accent naturally broke out after the falsetto (as mine usually does after mine), but the evidence was right there. If JT can make it across the Atlantic, Starbucks has it easy.

Indubitably.