anticipated. The rest of the afternoon was quiet, with our second customer, a Catholic priest, arriving just before we shut down for the day.
That first day was indicative of what we had started in New Orleans and a reflection of what New Orleans was and may become again. Iâm a fan of history and loved the concept of a tea shop because of its historical attachment. I especially enjoyed reading about the first seventeenth-century tea shops, called coffee houses as coffee began to make its appearance in England, and their posted rules of behavior. In these first truly democratic businesses, no man was compelled to surrender his seat to a nobleman. Freedom of speech was the rule of the day, so much so that the newly restored monarch King Charles II attempted to outlaw them as houses of sedition. And so, the tradition lived on in my own Indonique Tea & Chai Café.
It bears repeating that our first customer was a Bourbon Street stripper and our second a Catholic priest. Our customers were from every walk of life, and represented every race and mindset. So many events highlighted this free egalitarian draw that only a cup of tea could have. The vast diversity of tea available, the range of flavors, and its ancient roots attracted the most diverse group of people that Iâve ever encountered. My customers included Jude Law, Congressman William Jefferson, local jazz and funk musicians, and even an authentic British Knight, Sir Eldon Griffith. It also included the folks at the tattoo parlor down the block, a beautiful young girl who wore fairy wings everywhere she went, and university students. I once witnessed a woman exit a chauffeur-driven limo and take a table opposite a young man who had just received his tenth tattoo from the parlor on our block. She asked to see the latest and they talked and laughed for half an hour before parting. The priest, my second customer, came regularly to counsel parishioners in dire need, as the café offered a relaxed and comfortable environment. Yoga groups poured into our shop after classes; sitar players offered intimate concerts. One group, including an Emergency Room surgeon, a realtor, and others, met informally to discuss Eastern philosophy. Small business venture capitalists met on other occasions. There was a sense of freedom and camaraderie that existed nowhere else, and teaâby its natureâwas the draw and the binding particle.
Itâs funny how things work out. I had originally attempted to sell tea wholesale, but couldnât sell a bag of tea to save my life. The café was in fact a desperation move. If I couldnât sell tea to existing cafés, then I was determined to go directly to the customer. It was an expensive proposition, but it worked. We made ends meet and posted a profit within 16 months.
What surprised us was how infectious our desperation move was. Infectious not only because it spread from customer to new customer, but because it spread through those customers to other cafés. Reminiscent of those early tea shops, our tea appealed to a very diverse group of business owners who asked us to sell them our tea as their customers demanded it. The first was an edgy café on trendy Oak Street. The owners, one with a bone through his noseâas can only happen in New Orleans, ran a very successful coffee shop. They told us their customers wanted our chai and they wanted to support a local business. They didnât see us as competition. If they were buying chai, why not from us? In turn, I sent coffee lovers to them. Another trendy coffee shop in the Faubourg areaânext to the jazz club Snug Harbor, where Charmaine Neville singsâlikewise asked to buy our tea for their customers, again seeking quality products from a local business. A third business owner asked us to open a kiosk in his newly renovated retail complex that housed a nationwide kitchen store franchise.
We hadnât seen this coming, what we termed the âTea
That first day was indicative of what we had started in New Orleans and a reflection of what New Orleans was and may become again. Iâm a fan of history and loved the concept of a tea shop because of its historical attachment. I especially enjoyed reading about the first seventeenth-century tea shops, called coffee houses as coffee began to make its appearance in England, and their posted rules of behavior. In these first truly democratic businesses, no man was compelled to surrender his seat to a nobleman. Freedom of speech was the rule of the day, so much so that the newly restored monarch King Charles II attempted to outlaw them as houses of sedition. And so, the tradition lived on in my own Indonique Tea & Chai Café.
It bears repeating that our first customer was a Bourbon Street stripper and our second a Catholic priest. Our customers were from every walk of life, and represented every race and mindset. So many events highlighted this free egalitarian draw that only a cup of tea could have. The vast diversity of tea available, the range of flavors, and its ancient roots attracted the most diverse group of people that Iâve ever encountered. My customers included Jude Law, Congressman William Jefferson, local jazz and funk musicians, and even an authentic British Knight, Sir Eldon Griffith. It also included the folks at the tattoo parlor down the block, a beautiful young girl who wore fairy wings everywhere she went, and university students. I once witnessed a woman exit a chauffeur-driven limo and take a table opposite a young man who had just received his tenth tattoo from the parlor on our block. She asked to see the latest and they talked and laughed for half an hour before parting. The priest, my second customer, came regularly to counsel parishioners in dire need, as the café offered a relaxed and comfortable environment. Yoga groups poured into our shop after classes; sitar players offered intimate concerts. One group, including an Emergency Room surgeon, a realtor, and others, met informally to discuss Eastern philosophy. Small business venture capitalists met on other occasions. There was a sense of freedom and camaraderie that existed nowhere else, and teaâby its natureâwas the draw and the binding particle.
Itâs funny how things work out. I had originally attempted to sell tea wholesale, but couldnât sell a bag of tea to save my life. The café was in fact a desperation move. If I couldnât sell tea to existing cafés, then I was determined to go directly to the customer. It was an expensive proposition, but it worked. We made ends meet and posted a profit within 16 months.
What surprised us was how infectious our desperation move was. Infectious not only because it spread from customer to new customer, but because it spread through those customers to other cafés. Reminiscent of those early tea shops, our tea appealed to a very diverse group of business owners who asked us to sell them our tea as their customers demanded it. The first was an edgy café on trendy Oak Street. The owners, one with a bone through his noseâas can only happen in New Orleans, ran a very successful coffee shop. They told us their customers wanted our chai and they wanted to support a local business. They didnât see us as competition. If they were buying chai, why not from us? In turn, I sent coffee lovers to them. Another trendy coffee shop in the Faubourg areaânext to the jazz club Snug Harbor, where Charmaine Neville singsâlikewise asked to buy our tea for their customers, again seeking quality products from a local business. A third business owner asked us to open a kiosk in his newly renovated retail complex that housed a nationwide kitchen store franchise.
We hadnât seen this coming, what we termed the âTea
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