Ethnography: Carnation Starbucks

The quest was to observe the teenager hangout in Carnation, WA for a paper on marketing. The population within the city limits was less than 2000. There were no traffic lights, no McDonalds, no Burger King or Wendy's. The high school was in the neighboring town of Duvall but there was a middle school and elementary school there. There was also a tiny strip mall containing the local QFC, Blake's Pizza and Ice cream, the video store, Chinese restaurant, the Korean thrift shop, and the local Starbucks. As Blake's Pizza seemed very quiet, I walked into the Starbucks, nestled between the restaurant and thrift store.

The Scent of Welcome

Under the wide awning of the strip mall, there were three black wrought iron tables outside the Starbuck's, each with a small glass vase filled with three or four bright red bachelor buttons. A large, white, tripod sign, adorned with a festive red and silver garland, held the specials, Gingerbread Latte or Peppermint Mocha with a mint brownie. There was a chill in the air and the tables were empty.

I pushed open the glass door, with the green and white Starbuck's logo on the front, to the feeling of warmth from the shop and the faint sound of tinkling Christmas bells. A Christmas wreath, hung on the inside of the door, was formed from waffle-cone shaped white and red papers, lined with silver, holding little curls of red streamers, the tiny bells and velvet red ornaments. The scent of ginger, chocolate, and roasted coffee beans was immediate and welcoming, as were the strains of Thelonious Monk punctuated by the sporadic sound of grinding beans.

The Look of Christmas

The tiny shop area was probably twenty five by fifty feet. Two dark green counters, with two wooden chairs at each, faced the street on either side of the door. The floor was tiled dark gray with an interspersed sage-green and hunter-green mosaic. The shop was filled with Christmas décor. Two Christmas trees, one at the display counter by the register and one on the counter at the bookshelves lining the opposite wall, matched the wreath at the door. There were small teddy bears everywhere: Little Santa women teddy bears with white satin skirts, red Santa hats and jackets, and little male teddy bears with stocking hats of Scandinavian theme, red jackets with dark green pants. They both lined several counters and multiple shelves. To-Go Coffee Canisters decorated with red tags sat above the display stand, and the paper coffee cups had changed from their usual white to a more festive red. The color red was seen everywhere you looked. As you approached toward the register, you passed a brightly lit display case filled with muffins, scones, and pastries. It stood out in the slightly dark shop.

Four additional wooden tables with two chairs filled the remainder of the small room's space. One was occupied by a girl perhaps in her twenties, buried in the book resting by her cup of coffee. Two men in their seventies in baseball caps held a lively conversation at one of the counters. The girls working behind the counter greeted me immediately. There were two of them, one in her forties, both with brown hair. One, the old timer with black glasses, shoulder length brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, black long sleeve shirt and the Starbuck's green apron, was busy stocking her station. The other, in a sleeveless white shell with the obligatory apron, was perhaps in her early twenties, and had that slight hesitancy that signals newness or shyness. She was working the counter. The five of us were the only ones in the shop as I browsed the display case. I selected a ginger apple loaf and a tall latte and headed for the small round table decorated like a checkerboard.

The Parade of Humanity

Arriving at around three o'clock in the afternoon, I had expected to see a steady stream of middle school teenagers. Where else could they go in this Fast-Foodless town? That did not happen. The customers were most commonly between the ages of forty and seventy with a very rare teenager and a few in their twenties or early thirties. Thelonious Monk changed over to the Rolling Stones as I finished my latte and I became amused at the current music selection mingled with the parade of fashion in front of me. Each individual that entered the store, of an age less than thirty, had jeans that hugged the hips, flared at the bottom and dragged the floor. Their shoes ranged from clogs to sandals with layered cropped t-shirts and jeans jackets or hooded, zipped, or frogged sweatshirts. Those of us in our later years were in our sweatpants, knit pants, sweatshirts, and polo shirts. We would not have been caught dead in our current fashion choice when the Rolling Stones first played on our record players, and now those in their teens and twenties were wearing our previous fashion statements.

The younger patrons got their pastry and their beverages and left immediately. The older patrons seemed a bit chattier, discussing the decorations, Google stocks, or the drink specials with Gabby, the old timer. Another man in his seventies arrived, and ordered his coffee. The two older men at the counter went outside to one of the tables for a smoke and the newest man joined them. They were still in lively conversation.

Another worker arrived. She was quite young, of high school age with long brown braided hair and the sulky expression of one who did not want to be there. She opened up the second register next to the display case. A young high school girl, Amanda, came in with the same 60s attire, this time with sequins on the back jeans pockets and their hem. She brought with her a small girl in pink and white tennis shoes, long blond hair, and a black and red dress. Amanda ordered their drinks while the little one bounced up and down on one foot, going back and forth from counter to bookshelves, taking in all the decorations and chatting non-stop. They left immediately after being served. A young male in his twenties entered. He had short blond hair and wore black glasses, a striped sweater and his jeans dragged the floor. He started a discussion on camera angles with the two younger girls at the counter while he waited for his banana bread and mocha. When his order came up, he did not quite have the money by a couple of cents. The sulky one chipped in for him and I saw her smile for the first time since she arrived.

Conclusion

I left Starbucks passing the three still conversing men at the outside table and headed for home. I did not find my large group of teenagers hanging out in Starbucks, but I did find that Starbucks provides a purpose in Carnation. It is a place where people can get together and talk. The older generations that passed through the shop seemed particularly to enjoy camaraderie there. Their faces brightened as they came through the door and spoke with the girls behind the counter or the other patrons. Starbucks was a warm, cheerful, fragrant, welcoming place in this small town.

I got in my car, headed for home, and passed a middle school aged boy carrying a skateboard. He was coming from the recently built skateboard arena in Carnation's Memorial Park - now there was a true Carnation teenager hangout.