The scene here at Jumpin’ Java: 9am Sunday morning. To my right, two gay guys having a deep conversation – one a muscly shaved head bruiser and the other younger, with a black mohawk in a motorcycle jacket. At the counter in front, a girl ordering wearing a hoody pulled up over her head, with a ballerina tutu poking out at the waist, over gray tights. To my left, an out-of-water hipster in a look that may become the new skinny jeans: a black trench coat and stovepipe hat.
Meanwhile, more people park their dogs outside while they pop in to get a coffee for the stroll. (The weekend commuters).