STYLE REPORT: The Capital One Café

Aren't we all paying with capital?

Recently, while packing up my entire apartment, I stumbled upon a treasure trove of gift cards I’ve collected. Unfortunately most of these are unused for a reason: they’re expired, or to places I’d never really go to otherwise. (Does anyone want $25 to the Hampton Social? Five gift cards with $2 left on them that we won on an incredible run at Glascotts’ trivia? An expired ticket for a Zanies show that they hand out like candy if you go to one show there?¹)

In this pile was a ticket for a free drink at the Capital One Café. This one, I figured, would probably still work. I don’t know the economics of it, but I’d imagine Capital One loses money on the café part of the business; it’s a honeypot to get you to sign up for a credit card. They’d honor it, even if it’s expired. I had a few errands to run nearby, so why not get a handcrafted, consultant-approved Iced Blueberry Ube Matcha?

Many of the best jokes about the Capital One Café are too obvious to make. Many of the best criticisms of the Capital One Café were made thirty years ago. And not even by some esoteric Marxist academic; by extremely popular media. You’ve all seen Fight Club. You don’t need to read me doing a worse version of that.

To really be the type of person who gets up in arms about a corporate-sponsored café is almost quaint in the year 2026. Ohhhh, the café is bad because it’s excessively corporate, or a symbol of late capitalism, or gentrification, or something. Well, lovingly, duh. Of course the Capital One Café is bleak. It’s in the name.

I am not a cultural critic, however. I am simply a first-class style reporter, and I’m here to report: its style is in fact just as bleak.

There is ostensibly a point to a Capital One Café. In theory it is a more inviting space for people to walk in and do their banking than a regular bank. But simply adding a café does not make a bank hip. Every drink at the Capital One Café still tastes like a credit card. Every person at the Capital One Café still looks like a savings account.

This may be my biggest challenge yet, but surely there is some style inspiration to be found in Chicago’s 107th-hottest coffee shop. Surely there is still substance to be found, even in the most robotic of robotic places. The dearth of potential hasn’t stopped me before. I found style inspiration while stuck at Verizon, while on an international flight, while running a marathon. The Capital One Café is my perfect picture of purgatory. What are people wearing here?

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Flawless linens, windswept hair

The people in an ad for a 360 Savings Account

The Capital One Café has the charm of a YMCA or a jet bridge or the lobby of a high-rise apartment building built exactly eighteen years ago. Large windows, minimalist tables, advertisements for retirement accounts on every wall. Optimized like a WeWork, replete with individual cubicles to take calls in. Every patron here is locked into their laptop with a criminal case of resting product manager face.

There are people smiling here; they’re pictured in ads for Capital One products. These people know how to live; these people invested their money smartly, making money on their money with a responsible high-yield savings account, and they’re happy. They’re snorkeling. Holding hands with their salt-and-pepper spouse. They’re walking on a beach or raising their hand in a lecture hall. God, their lives look amazing. There is style to aspire to here.

GET THEIR LOOK: Well, if these ads are to be believed, you can get their look by banking with Capital One.

Ugly athleisure

Me and most other people

I am in the late stages of moving, where I don’t have many clothes to wear and I’m too tired to put on a real outfit. I’m wearing blue Target running shorts that I got when I was 16 and the T-shirt from a bowl game my college got humiliated in.

Maybe everyone else here has a similar excuse. Everyone is fighting a battle you know nothing about, etc, etc. But people. Please.

It’s leggings, it’s hoodies, it’s sneakers, but not in a way that’s at all committing to athleticism. It doesn’t even say “I threw this on because I’m headed to the gym after this.” It says nothing. A completely neutral outfit. This is the outfit you put on when you’re planning to avoid your reflection in the mirror. This is the chop capital of the world.

People say Chicago is not a fashion city and, conversely, I think that’s what makes it an interesting fashion city. People don’t care, which can either lead to them wearing the most boring outfit you’ve ever seen or the most fab thing you’ve ever seen. It’s freeing to be out in public in my fuck ass Target shorts and cursed shirt. I actually think not caring about every single detail of your outfit can lead to bigger, better fashion risks and more fun, funky, creative outfits. I think a bell curve best represents the state of Chicago fashion:

It’s also criminally easy to get into the “most cities” zone, thereby mogging most people around you, by wearing anything that’s not jeans and a black top. Very low barrier to entry here.

But alas… not here. This particular Capital One Café is flanked by a Vuori and an Athleta. We didn’t stand a chance. Here we are stuck firmly two standard deviations away.

GET THEIR LOOK: Throw on literally whatever the fuck you have.

Dress and red lipstick

Woman on a date ?

As a hardened style reporter I should shy away from using terms like “overdressed.” If you want to turn a look at the Capital One Café, that’s your right. But there’s a couple in the corner that undoubtedly stands out.

I have to assume, because I need to believe that humanity as a whole is rational and good, they didn’t come to the Capital One Café on a date; hopefully they’re going on a date elsewhere, and just here killing time. That’s the ultimate purpose of a Capital One Café: a good enough place to kill time on a scorching hot day like today. Its best advertisement is that it’s better than sitting in the hundred-degree heat. It’s not objectively pleasant, but it is more pleasant than burning alive.

GET HER LOOK: Red lipstick, floral dress, a discontented look. Surely this isn’t your final destination for the afternoon/evening. Right?

Over-ear headphones

The average remote worker

Everyone here is working a six-figure remote job, besides probably the salespeople and the baristas and maybe that couple that have already left for their date. The main clientele have walked in, secured their $3.50 latte, and parked it for the day.

Over-ear headphones abound. I get a call from my mom. In a normal café, I’d feel worse, like I was disturbing the peaceful vibe. The Capital One Café, in contrast, feels like a call center. I can pick up my mom’s call no problem. I know everyone else’s headphones will block it out. They don’t even notice me. I’m in my own little bubble at my own little workstation table.

GET THEIR LOOK: Sensible over-ear headphones. Buy the most functional, least fashionable ones if you really want to fit in with the crowd here. Go on the website and pick the ones that will match least with any outfit you could possibly wear. That’s the ticket!

Sly little smile

Barista who asks me if I’m “paying with capital”

I like to think this little loophole allows him to give everyone the 50% discount that Capital One customers get. That he does it on purpose. He knows the name of the place he works. He knows it’s not “capital”; it’s Capital One. But if he asks if you’re paying with capital, your answer can always be yes. Aren’t we all paying with capital?

GET HIS LOOK: little white barista t-shirt, earring, sketchbook tattoos. They still let the baristas be baristas in this place despite how everything else looks like a swanky Dallas gas station. It’s refreshing.

1.5 monitors

People trapped in a cubicle of their own design

It looks dystopian at first glance. Most patrons have built their own cubicles using monitors as Lego blocks. Everyone has a portable monitor, and an iPad, and an iPhone that’s somehow standing. You can’t really see anyone over these fortresses of e-waste.

It’s at this point that I emerge from my nihilism and begin to wonder if there is a point to a Capital One Café. Isn’t it better that they’re doing this here, rather than ruining everyone else’s time at some cooler, vibier coffee spot?

If you’re going to be boring, I’d much rather you do it in the cafe for boring people.

I once took a work call from Bombastic across the street (shout out), which is infinitely more charming and has infinitely fewer plastic-tasting drinks. But I felt like a traitor about it! I was betraying the cozy 90’s coffeehouse vibe by discussing updates and KPIs. Maybe the Capital One Café has an important place in the vibe economy; it keeps all the worker bees in their own hive, leaving the cool coffee shops for reading and socializing.

Of course, this is a fantasy. As much as I’d love to have separate cafés for work and play, this also means all of these remote workers sending their $3.50 directly to Rich Fairbank are going to spend less money at the cute independent places.

Support independent places whenever you can— but maybe just buy a coffee and hole up at home if you’re planning on grinding hard work or taking calls. Why do you need to be in public monitor prison?

GET THEIR LOOK: Become a Transformer.

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hi. there are a lot of new subscribers here since we last chatted! hello and welcome!

apologies for the lateness of this week’s newsletter. I usually try to get it out so people can read on their Monday or Tuesday commutes. today it’ll have to be Wednesday lunch break. treat yourself to a turkey avocado whatever the hell from the Capital One Café and take a load off. you deserve it!

1. I do have $60 in Lettuce Entertain You credit, which I’ll use to sustain me after I’ve packed up all my dishes. Right now the plan is to gorge myself at Sushi-San happy hour 3 different times. If anyone has any other recs please let me know.