Steer Clear of Starbucks’ Siren Song

Since its debut at Pike’s Place Market in 1971, coffee’s infamous forest-green, two-tailed siren has cropped up so pervasively across the country it has fostered its own cliché — there’s a Starbucks on every corner. 

Despite this saying’s seeming hyperbole, Chicago’s 164 Starbucks locations make it almost despairingly true. Even our own corner of Chicago is vulnerable to the frappuccino apocalypse, as a new Starbucks is slated to open closer campus this fall, replacing the current location at 6738 North Sheridan Rd., the Phoenix reported. 

There are already 20 Starbucks locations in Rogers Park and Edgewater, not including the Starbucks-adjacent cafes on campus which boast they “proudly serve Starbucks coffee.” Moreover, this not-so-new Starbucks will still be situated on North Sheridan Road — nestled even closer to the two other stores already operating within the half mile stretch of street. 

Candidly, this is an atrocity. Chicago is a place made by and for the hallowed halls of homy local coffee shops, offering unique brews and playful pastries that — quite literally — help create the second city’s local flavor. 

Rogers Park, a neighborhood flush with vibrant local businesses, is wrought with local coffee shops undoubtedly already under fire due to the Starbucks invasion. While these neighborhood nooks may not offer the same range of drinks or menu consistency as their corporate competitors, they champion exactly what Starbucks cannot — singularity.

The quaint, quiche-loving Common Cup on West Morse Avenue sells hand-made ceramics along with delectable coffee and pastries, making it the perfect place to daydream about your expanding mug collection while watching through the windows at those passing by. 

National park themed Rivers and Roads Cafe on West Devon Avenue is a granola-girl heaven, evoking the comfort of a warm camp-fire with their seasonal drink specials, gooey chocolate chip cookies and dog-friendly atmosphere.

On West Granville Avenue sits one of Chicagoland’s fun-loving, family-owned Metropolis Coffee Company locations, which partners with local organizations, artists and bakeries, engulfing customers in anything and everything local despite the company’s city-wide scope. 

In addition to these Loyola-student staples, recently-opened Loaves and Witches on North Broadway has brought a deliciously mystical yet heart-warming vibe to the neighborhood, as candles and tarot decks juxtapose bright-colored couches and the smell of fresh focaccia just out of the oven. 

People in the community — especially students — love these coffee shops not only because of their abundant seating and free Wi-Fi, but also because of their distinct local feel. The fact that these four seeming-competitors can not only co-exist, but thrive off of their mutual existence is because they each bring something unique. 

Starbucks has nothing on these locally owned and grown staples. Frankly, their success is one derived from convenience over class. Even local baristas have expressed ire about the over-saturation of Starbucks locations on North Broadway and North Sheridan alone, the Phoenix reported. 

It’s frustrating to learn prime real-estate in such an economically diverse and pridefully communal neighborhood is being handed over to an already present, nation-wide monopoly.

Even more frustrating is the building holding this new Starbucks is owned by Loyola, making this instance another of seemingly endless university initiatives which detract from the community in the name of convenient commercialism.

There’s no reason to have three Starbucks’ within a half-mile of one another — especially with trends of corporations muscling out small businesses and the contemporaneous existence of popular local spots nearby. 

This space could and should be used for something which simultaneously lifts up the neighborhood and fills in its commercial gaps. The new Starbucks will do neither of those things — something it’s important to remember whenever the siren song of late-stage capitalism and the intoxicating smell of a Pike’s Place Roast beacon us away from the mom-and-pop shop across the street.