Espresso: the New American Social Barometer
Crisis? What crisis? Richard Girardot is rejoicing. The CEO of Nespresso, a subsidiary of Nestle, recently opened its second boutique coffee shop in New York. The first was on Madison Avenue, in the heart of Manhattan. Elegant service, delicate pastries and a silver-plated atmosphere, like the color of the staff uniform. The new one is in SoHo, a little less expensive but more hip. We wouldn’t normally voluntarily promote a brand unless the “marketing strategy” it adopted during the crisis, which rubbed its competitors the wrong way, had not demonstrated a real trend.
Modernity in the U.S. can be symbolically represented by the relationship between two “products” that previously went hand in hand in Southern Europe and are now poles apart: the espresso and the cigarette. In modern America — technological, urban and coastal — the short black beverage, which appeared around fifteen years ago, has not stopped spreading. In comparison, cigarettes have been progressively banned in public spaces. In New York, the local authority intends to ban them in open spaces, such as Central Park or on the beach.
Proof in the Juice
In “old” America, however, the espresso remains almost unknown. There are three Starbucks in the whole of Cleveland, with its three million inhabitants. Here, like in Detroit or other devastated ex-blue collar strongholds, we still find smoking areas in restaurants or smoking rooms in hotels. In short, the “juice” is in, so it became a bit expensive, while tobacco is out of fashion.
This was, of course, until the crisis. A fall in revenue made distributors change their strategy. The leader, Starbucks, which was serving a young, educated and relatively well-off clientele, set prices in line with the quality of its coffee and its derivatives. But with the crisis, the big fast food chains like McDonalds and Dunkin’ Donuts began offering the one dollar espresso. Starbucks had to adapt, suddenly promoting its cheaper products and sacrificing tens of franchises and hundreds of jobs.
There was none of this at Nespresso, which, now more than ever in the U.S., played its card of up-market chic. No “coffee to go” in a cardboard cup here. The result: after New York and Montreal, Miami, Los Angeles and San Francisco, Boston and Scottsdale (Arizona) are all in line to welcome the “coffee culture.” Internet sales are growing in Texas and in Arizona. The exclusive “members club” and “quality coffee” marketing is working to full effect. Nespresso has not stopped hiring, and its turnover increased 30 percent in the U.S. in 2009 while that of its competitors has fallen.
The drink proves that the crisis has hit the middle classes hard while some, who are better off, have not even seen it go by.
Modernity in the U.S. can be symbolically represented by the relationship between two “products” that previously went hand in hand in Southern Europe and are now poles apart: the espresso and the cigarette. In modern America — technological, urban and coastal — the short black beverage, which appeared around fifteen years ago, has not stopped spreading. In comparison, cigarettes have been progressively banned in public spaces. In New York, the local authority intends to ban them in open spaces, such as Central Park or on the beach.
Proof in the Juice
In “old” America, however, the espresso remains almost unknown. There are three Starbucks in the whole of Cleveland, with its three million inhabitants. Here, like in Detroit or other devastated ex-blue collar strongholds, we still find smoking areas in restaurants or smoking rooms in hotels. In short, the “juice” is in, so it became a bit expensive, while tobacco is out of fashion.
This was, of course, until the crisis. A fall in revenue made distributors change their strategy. The leader, Starbucks, which was serving a young, educated and relatively well-off clientele, set prices in line with the quality of its coffee and its derivatives. But with the crisis, the big fast food chains like McDonalds and Dunkin’ Donuts began offering the one dollar espresso. Starbucks had to adapt, suddenly promoting its cheaper products and sacrificing tens of franchises and hundreds of jobs.
There was none of this at Nespresso, which, now more than ever in the U.S., played its card of up-market chic. No “coffee to go” in a cardboard cup here. The result: after New York and Montreal, Miami, Los Angeles and San Francisco, Boston and Scottsdale (Arizona) are all in line to welcome the “coffee culture.” Internet sales are growing in Texas and in Arizona. The exclusive “members club” and “quality coffee” marketing is working to full effect. Nespresso has not stopped hiring, and its turnover increased 30 percent in the U.S. in 2009 while that of its competitors has fallen.
The drink proves that the crisis has hit the middle classes hard while some, who are better off, have not even seen it go by.