A Label Worth the Coffee
A label seems so small. It's just a slip of paper riding on the side of a bag. But for me it carries the whole promise of the project. It has to tell our story in a single glance: hand‑craft, contrast, quiet curiosity. It also has to survive the inglorious journey from roastery to countertop without bleeding, smudging, or costing more than the coffee inside.
A few months ago I told myself, half‑jokingly, that I would try lino‑printing again—something I hadn’t touched since high‑school art class. That same evening, on the way to dinner, I passed a shop that sells nothing but professional lino supplies. Serendipity yanked me off course. I rearranged my roasting schedule, squeezed through their door the next morning, and spent an hour with a lino artist who spoke about gouges and brayers the way farmers speak about weather. When I explained our coffee project he nodded and said, almost off‑hand, “Why not make paper from your old jute sacks?”
Paper or Plastic?
Earlier this year, I attended Paris Packaging Week, a name that sounds fancy but is a little misleading. It suggests a week of varied events – a gift-wrapping championship, perhaps, or a presentation on new shrink-wrap styles – when in fact it’s a two-day trade show filled with booths from manufacturers and distributors. "Packaging Week" is a bit of an overstatement.
Still, I went for one clear reason: to discover innovative new ways to package coffee.
I arrived straight from the metro with high hopes, grabbed my badge, and began winding through the aisles. My mission was to scan for keywords: “Made in France”, “recyclable”, “compostable”, “circular economy”, “food grade”. I was searching for an undiscovered El Dorado of thoughtful packaging, hoping to find a product that met our needs or, at the very least, to spark some new ideas.
Signals
We’ve recently begun the real adventure: physically looking at properties. It’s thrilling and terrifying, hopeful and heartbreaking all at once. Each place we see becomes a question about what it might become:
« Is this space laid out in a way that aligns with our vision? »
« Does it flow naturally toward the areas we plan to activate, or does it feel awkward, like we’ve stumbled into a stranger’s home? »
« If I were arriving here for the first time, would I feel excitement about what lies ahead—or would I instantly want to turn around and leave? »
This elusive quality—the intangible thing about a place that pulls us in, makes us feel welcome, comfortable, excited—is central to everything we're trying to build.
Concept
Let’s explore this concept in more detail. Specialty coffee in the french countryside, in a converted outbuilding, and what this will allow us to do. Things which in today’s typical café are just not realistically possible.
Key topics will be client experience, waste, and product creation and transformation.