Why Drinking Coffee in Iran Has Become So Ridiculously Complicated
It all started with a sarcastic jab in a chat:
“You shouldn’t be more Catholic than the Pope. You go to order a coffee, and the guy’s like, ‘From Kenyan farms or Brazil?’ It’s like going to Italy for ghormeh sabzi, and they ask if you want the herbs from Bostanabad or Tuyserkan. Come on—just give us an espresso so we can move on with our lives :))”
Funny, sure. But also painfully accurate.
When did getting a coffee turn into a whole performance?
A quick rewind
Coffee in Iran isn’t new—we were drinking it long before tea took over. Back in the Safavid era, coffeehouses were where people gathered for stories, debates, and a hit of something strong. No one was talking about “floral notes” or “single-origin beans.” Then came the Qajars, tea took the spotlight, and coffee faded into the background.
Fast forward to today, and coffee is back—but now it’s dressed like it’s trying to win an Oscar.
These new cafés
They’re not really about coffee anymore. They’re selling a lifestyle.
Walk in, and the menu reads like a novel: “Ethiopian Yirgacheffe with hints of jasmine and citrus.” Give me a break. It’s not a drink—it’s a personality. You’re not there to enjoy a cup; you’re there to feel like you belong to some exclusive club. It’s all image.
So, what’s the deal?
Simple: it’s marketing.
Cafés have found a way to segment customers like a product catalog. Some people just want a no-fuss coffee (good luck finding one). Others want “an experience,” like their morning brew needs a backstory worthy of a TED talk. And then there’s the Instagram crowd—more into photos than flavor.
By slapping fancy names and origin stories on every cup, cafés turn a basic drink into a status symbol. It’s capitalism playing dress-up as culture.
The irony? This whole coffee “culture” in Iran is barely out of diapers.
In Italy, ordering an espresso takes five seconds. Here, it’s a whole show. Baristas throw around jargon to look modern, but let’s be honest—it’s all borrowed flair. Most of the time, the menu’s just a smokescreen for how hollow it really is.
And don’t even get me started on the social media angle. That “Guatemalan cold brew” isn’t a drink—it’s content.
What’s actually driving this
Us.
People are bored, insecure, or just looking for something to latch onto. So we pay more for a label that makes us feel seen. It’s not about taste—it’s about signaling. And cafés know that. They exploit it. Ruthlessly.
You’re not drinking coffee—you’re drinking the idea of being someone who drinks that coffee.
Sure, some might say this café trend is part of Iran’s growing urban culture. In places like Tehran and Isfahan, cafés are hubs now—for work, hangouts, even classes. But let’s not pretend it’s all deep and cultural. Most of it’s just a commercial stunt. A far cry from the old coffeehouses, where you got your drink, sat down, and lived your life—no fuss, no theatrics.
That friend’s rant hit the nail on the head.
Coffee used to be fuel. Now it’s a lifestyle accessory.
And here’s the real kicker
This whole thing isn’t going anywhere. Too many people are invested—baristas, café owners, influencers, even the customers who’ve built their personalities around “being into coffee.”
It’s too late to pull out. Their jobs, their status, their social media presence—all wrapped up in this coffee circus.
And the saddest part? It’s swallowing everything else. You want a decent, straightforward coffee? Good luck. You’re either getting a sad drip from a dusty corner shop or a 200,000-toman pour-over served with a side of self-importance.
That’s the real tragedy:
Coffee still exists.
But the simplicity? That’s gone.