Sabrina Carpenter's 'Barista' Shift at Blank Street Was Weird

When celebrities pretend to do the work of 'normal people,' it just proves how out of touch they are.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

For the last few weeks, I've been dying to read a carefully constructed, yet full of wild hot takes, breakdown of one line: "That's that me, espresso."

If you've been living under a rock or wisely don't scroll on your phone for hours a day, the line comes from, "Espresso," the unofficial song of the summer from Sabrina Carpenter. This specific lyric caught my attention because, duh, it's about coffee, but it's also inexplicably catchy. The grammatical incorrectness is subtle but intriguing, inviting all listeners to ask: what the heck does she mean?

Vulture writer Justin Curto answered my prayers and enlisted a linguist to help decipher this collection of words. Hampton University professor Ekkarat Ruanglertsilp says the lyric "is not meant to be taken seriously." The double use of the word 'that,' says Ruanglertsilp, "is there to foster a sense of playfulness, to catch attention," and Carpenter comparing herself to espresso "conveys a sense of power. She has this power of attracting her boy, to have him wrapped around her finger."

But the espresso reference has gone beyond mere metaphor: in June, Carpenter "worked" a "barista shift" at a Blank Street Coffee location in London, seemingly to promote the song.

It looks like Carpenter did little more than take orders and hand out drinks, and no one is asking her to pull shots and pour perfect latte art. However, it should raise an eyebrow that Carpenter's lone barista shift at a Blank Steet in London has gotten more attention than workers at the chain's New York locations finally ratifying their first contract over a year after announcing their intent to unionize.

Lots of people have written about the phenomenon of celebrities working "normal jobs" for one reason or another, from recording artist Lana Del Rey working at a Waffle House to TikTok star Charli D'Amelio ringing up people at a Walmart. As Emily Bloch writes for the Philadelphia Inquirer, Carpenter's turn behind the bar "marks the latest attempt from a celebrity to cosplay as a customer service employee in an effort to connect with fans."

But with so much attention on labor, specifically in the coffee and service sector, what does it say that celebrities feel comfortable pretending to do the work that most regular people do? And why do they fail to engage with issues that most workers actually face?

A Cute Little Barista Shift

What's irksome about Carpenter's barista shift—and this is no knock on her specifically because celebrities do this kind of thing all the time—is how infantilizing it feels. Bloch's article notes that the signer appeared in "head-to-toe Fendi," including photos promoting the appearance featuring a Fendi-branded drink carrier and cups (Fendi isn't even tagged in the photo, and I haven't read anything about the brand partnering with Blank Street, although it's clear something is happening). There's something about this that makes the job feel silly? She can pop in, hand out a few drinks, and fly away, all without contending with the realities of a low-wage service job.

It feels cute because that's what it's meant to do: the experience of seeing Carpenter handing you an iced matcha latte elicits an endearing reaction because this is not her everyday environment. It's meant to be a spectacle.

The spectacle of these celebrity cosplays flattens the experience of working people's everyday lives. It's like seeing cognitive dissonance in visual form: D'Amelio's stint as a Walmart clerk, for example, was rightfully criticized, and folks on the internet pointed out that Walmart employees comprise one of the largest groups of food stamp recipients in the nation. It's a weird flex to bring in a TikTok star worth millions of dollars to pretend to work for a photo opp when people work for the business struggling to make ends meet. These spectacles ameliorate the pressure companies face when their policies and practices are being challenged.

They also divert attention away from more important things. As I mentioned before, workers at Blank Street in New York ratified their first contact, and that story has received little attention compared to Carpenter's appearance. The contract was ratified on May 29th, and workers won rights like "wage increases based on tenure, paid time off and holiday pay," according to Duncan Freeman for The Chief. And Freeman reports that benefits won by the union have been extended to non-union stores. The union workers at Blank Street have made work better for hundreds, but who gets a post on Blank Street's Instagram feed? It's not the workers.

I think Carpenter's publicity stunt could have been improved with a simple tweak: what if she bought out the coffee shop for the day and set up a selfie station in the corner of the store for excited patrons to take photos with their freebie coffees? You'd still get the same effect—she'd be promoting her album, using a coffeeshop to tie into the title of her lead single, and patrons would still delight in seeing a celebrity. Why must this person fake being a barista to promote their song?

Of course, Carpenter could have gone further. What if she showed solidarity with the union? I can't say for sure, but that feels like a low-risk move, especially when union support is incredibly high amongst the general population. When celebrities fail to engage in the reality of the spaces they enter, they demand that the rest of us suspend our rationality and reasoning. We're not supposed to ask any tough questions.

In the right setting, this makes sense: art can offer an escape from the demands of the world. But eventually, we have to return to reality, and it'd be cool to see celebrities acknowledge that rather than use regular people's jobs as their playthings.