“Two espressos, please!”, The man in functional clothes, accompanied by his partner at the next table, ordered and the correct plural tore me out of my reading. Shortly thereafter, the two black cups with a small macaroon on the edge of the plate and the cream were inspected, while Mr. Northface lectured his companion on the kilometers traveled, the meters in altitude and the calories, looking at his watch. This is followed by a presentation on the espresso, which I probably listened to with more interest when the companion, who in the meantime was busy with her watch, perhaps compared her data with those of Mr. Nothface.
From the roasting and selection of the beans to the choice of grinder and the way of preparation, there are strict rules, I have learned, that if ignored would result in an inferior espresso – with which every restaurant, every bar and every bistro, no matter how dilapidated, irrevocably disqualified. . The perfect coffee is espresso; in Italy it is served when ordering a café, and in France the unsuspecting tourist who orders “a café” receives an espresso, which is also known there as “petit noir”. “Petit noir” – perhaps the culinary equivalent of “petit mort”, which describes orgasm? This last thought, I admit, is mine rather than Mr. Nothface’s, it sticks to the facts, I can tell.
However, the marketing industry seems to have discovered for itself that espresso, thanks to its brevity and focus, doesn’t need long hymns of praise in front of Mr. Northface. Slogans like “Nespresso – What else?” (Nespresso), “Espresso. No limit.” (Allegretto), “Short, dark & intense.” (Nescafè espresso) are like espresso: few, suggestive words; the distillation of an overflowing enthusiasm that can never do justice to the short and perfect espresso.
Men who utter such phrases seem to have one thing in common: they are confidently asserted; their success, their competence, which, unlike advertising for cars or air fresheners, goes hand in hand with immense sympathy and composure, convey the message that they consciously do not convey verbally. Espresso drinkers don’t need action, they rely on static. The sportsman Roger Federer is also filmed “in complete private”, elegantly dressed and calm himself, just to taste the luxury goods, the same goes for George Clooney.
Espresso does not make you successful, smart or beautiful: you drink espresso because you are successful, smart and beautiful. “We don’t care what you drink: successful people drink espresso,” seems to be the implied message of many advertisements. The secret of espresso advertisements lies in their apparent indifference. Espresso does not claim to give you new skills or attributes, just to help you reach your potential. This doesn’t require millionaire attributes like expensive watches or big sports cars – it is enough for the act of drinking to be celebrated by a person who embodies success and who doesn’t even need to emphasize their success. As a result, the “little man” is not sold to the “big world”, but the people of the “big world” are brought closer to the “little man”, which means that the upward confrontation is less steep. Roger Federer and George Clooney are like you and me when they drink espresso: an act of refueling, pause and conscious enjoyment before or after a show. Espresso – the performer’s drink.
In our performance-oriented society, where permanent, but always in control, high performance and baking cinnamon buns with your left hand in your Hygge home are imperative, even the little man likes to be among those who perform. So much power that for longer relaxation phases that would justify a latte macchiato – unfortunately! – there is no time. Always busy, always on the move, he still allows himself from time to time those 3 minutes of mindfulness, all the more consciously spent enjoying an espresso, thus maintaining the serenity, sovereignty and efficiency of a Roger Federer or a George Clooney.
Oddly, this type of coffee advertising is by no means a new phenomenon, even if it fits perfectly with the spirit of the time. In fact, Kafka did with his quote “Coffee does not dehydrate the body. I would be dust otherwise ‘, practically the same as George Clooney when he says’ Nespresso – What else?’ – only the latter is well paid for it. Only the affirmation of Kafka or Kant, which said: “I drink coffee, a lot” is enough to advertise the drink and affirms coffee as the creative elixir of the intellectual elite. The focus, which previously was heavily on intellectuality, may have shifted to the elite of a society in general, but the way Federer or Clooney was staged is reminiscent of this period.
Both are not filmed in their “real” profession or environment, but as “refueling”, “pause”, “reasoning”. The “What else?” it is the “otherwise I would be dust” of today’s society: if Kafka had known how to present himself to the coffee industry then, it would have been a marketing sensation. Meanwhile, Mr. Northface had also finished his coffee monologue, with which he had distanced himself from the ignorant majority of espresso lovers, and his partner had finished the espresso. A glance at the clock told them they had to go now, “Ashtanga yoga starts at 5pm,” the lady noted, and the two jogged at a brisk pace. Rather high performance.
Meret Schneider, Wikipedia entry
Meret Schneider, entry on the Parliament website
Other columns by Meret Schneider
