I remember when we first met, it was in Geneva 2006. You were the popular kid and I just wanted to fit in. You had that beautiful shop on the quai Gustav Ador across from the Lake; I wandered in, feeling decidedly uncool overwhelmed by your smooth but distant charms. In awe, I soon succumbed along with every other Swiss citizen and bought your Turmix. Your design, your ease, your psychedelic-coloured capsules seduced me. George Clooney convinced me that I was doing the right thing, and with Swiss efficiency, I recycled those beauties whilst building a flotilla of flashy capsules neatly stacked in my pantry, and adding an Aerocino to the mix. I was besotted.
Your biggest fan
It was 2011, and our affair continued down under. I have forgiven you for my failed Turmix and have moved on to a shiny vamp of a Citiz. I forgave you, too, for my burnt-out Aerocino and have bought another. I even forgave you for those more expensive brightly-coloured beauties. My mother and sister-in-law have also succumbed to your charms. I have doubts, though, and am beginning to question our relationship. I now live in Melbourne, the mecca of coffee culture, where the flat white is an art form. Suddenly, you don't seem quite so seductive, quite so elusive yet still I am loyal. I add a sleek disposal unit enabling me to recycle in style. Still, George doesn't move me quite the same way. I was less besotted.
Your loyal fan
It is July 2013, I have been loyal for seven and a half years. It has been an imperfect relationship. I feel like I have given more than you and that only one of us has been constant and true. My shiny vamp of a Citiz has failed me. You have turned your back; spurned me. You scoffed, unmoved at my distress. "Pay a $150 repair fee or buy a new one" your only response. My pleas that purchasing a 3rd machine in seven years seemed unfair and perhaps spoke to quality, fell on deaf ears. I demonstrated to you that I have spent thousands of dollars over the years on your kaleidoscope palette of capsules. I even argued that it made no business sense to lose me over a $150 repair fee given the future we could have together; the thousands more you could count on from me if our affair were to continue. You were unmoved, cold, business-like. Did I ever mean anything to you? I am deceived.
|Citiz, Turmix and Aerocino relegated to my garage floor|
Your no-more fan
Before I bid you a final farewell, I would like to remind you of the principled individual that I am. I have always recycled your capsules, I do not shop at Walmart, I support same-sex marriage, I avoid factory-raised chicken and eggs, and stand up for what I perceive to be right and compassionate in the world. You have forsaken me and I am not afraid to say it. We cannot be friends and I don't wish you well. I have moved on and in a big way.
Let me introduce you to Giotto, our new love. To be honest, C2 took advantage of your disloyalty to indulge a passion and invest in something that will be loyal a lifetime. We are partnering with local Melbourne-based roasters to supply fresh beans thereby supporting local business and frankly delivering a superior experience.
You could have kept me dangling for years to come, Nespresso, but I am stronger, happier, and little-more buzzed in my new relationship. Your gaudy-coloured capsules cannot compare to the new grinding, tamping, brewing and steaming experience, we and our new love are engaged in.
Giotto and I are equal partners; something we never were.
Australian Family Hendricks