Fear the Latte Macchiato.

Allow me to state the facts before I begin to philosophize.

On Thursday of this past week, I entered a Barnes & Noble after attending a morning yoga class. Armed with a book and thirsting for caffeine, I intended to browse a bit, then enjoy a green tea and the copy of Kafka on the Shore I had toted along. (Un Ventredi plus fabulous, non? I agree.)

On my way into the bookstore, in the glass atrium framed on both sides by doors, I glanced briefly to my right where there was a large advertisement for the "ALL NEW!" Starbucks Latte Macchiato. Barnes & Noble, as I'm sure you are aware, proudly brews Starbucks brand coffee at all of its bookstore cafes. I paid very little attention to this ad. It was simply in the line of my visual spectrum. Barely a blip on the radar of my tranquil, post-YMCA-yoga-class mind.

I proceeded to enjoy my browse, my book, and my venti green tea with ginger.

The next week, I was in New York City for a mid-day meeting. As I deboarded the train, the usual instinctive thought crossed my mind, "I'll grab a coffee on my way." As I strolled across the train platform, up the levels of stairs, out the heavy brass doors of Platform 2, and into the thick of the station, I mused over my options. I consistently order a grande medium roast with no room, the only exception being a stint in Madrid in which American brewing was a non-option and I opted instead for a grande Americano, no room. I am admittedly straightforward in this respect.

On this day, however, I craved the rich velvet of steamed soy milk. I wanted something small but strong. A cappuccino, perhaps? No, too much foam and only one shot of espresso. Perhaps with a double shot? Still no. A latte, then. But I wanted the right combination of steamed milk to foam to espresso! The power and aroma of concentrated coffee magic in tandem with the creaminess of organic vanilla soy! Maybe, I thought to myself while pacing quickly across the Amtrak waiting area, I could ask them to make me a latte, extra foam, with an extra shot of espresso! I'm sure they'd do it! For an additional cost, of course, as nothing in Starbucks is ever free. I reasoned that if there was a secret Valentine's Day Frappuccino menu, I mean an entire seperate menu devoted entirely to this theme, they had to be able to throw a couple drops of espresso my way. Right?

That was it. I resolved, on this day, to create my own particular beverage. I, who detest my peers with the tall orders and the venti sizes. I, who casts away all frills. As I arrive at this decision, I also arrive at the doorway of the Starbucks in the lower level of Penn Station. I glance to my left, and I am struck dumb. I stand there a moment and read the large ad before me. It is the same advertisement I had seen days earlier in the atrium of a Barnes & Noble in another state. The "ALL NEW!" Starbucks Latte Macchiato. The velvety richness of a latte, marked with a shot of espresso.

Immediately I felt in my core the insidious power of ad messaging. With one perfect balance of image and text in a single moment of vulnerability, I had fallen victim to the Latte Macchiato. Would I have so abruptly craved this exact combination of coffee and steamed/foamed milk otherwise? Most likely not. Yes, I crave caffeine. Yes, I love coffee and am the semi-proud holder of a Starbucks Gold Card. Yes, I attend bookstores for sport, and enjoy cafes "on the reg," as the youngsters say.

These facts don't mean that I made the decision for a Latte Macchiato on my own. These facts mean I am the target demographic for the Starbucks ad message. What came first, my desire for the "ALL NEW!" LM, or the messaging that led to that desire? I think, at this point in my musings, that the answer is quite clear.

Do I regret my order of a Latte Macchiato (which is suggested in the 'tall,' the size I had intented to order) with soy milk, extra hot? No, no I do not. It was fantastic. Does that change the fact that my decision-making power was molded by external sensory factors and an environment I happened to step into in the days prior? No. My decision was not my own, and it wasn't the suggestion of a friend, and it wasn't the offer of a salesman. It was communication to me through the omnipresence of an international brand.

So, what I can offer to you in the aftermath of my experience is the following advice; Fear the Latte Macchiato. By all means, order it and enjoy it because it is delicious! But fear it.