((Warning: a bit of foul language ahead))
Ah... The festive spirit of Autumn is here. If you're one of the many stars among the Twitterverse, or a follower of multiple Instagram accounts frequently using the hashtag #fitfam, you may have noticed all of the recent posts about a certain beverage containing a certain squash that, in some cases, literally rolls in this time of year, and the "basic white girls" who drink it. Maybe you know of it. It is the créme de la whipped créme. The mother-of-all-things coffee-ish. More famous than its other seasonal competitors, the Mint Hot Chocolate from Dunkin Donuts or even McDonald's Shamrock Shake. Did you guess it? Fucking right, you did: The one, the only, Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte. And I'm here to clear up a few things about it and explain the reason it is that amazing, even if I have to defend it with every ounce of caffeine and sugar in my little white body. So pay attention.
THE LOOK
We all know why the Starbucks franchise has boomed so much over its 40+ years in the biz of specialty drinks. Because it makes you look fucking awesome. Have you ever held a Starbucks cup? Felt the smooth plastic against your previously unworthy fingertips? Have you walked down the streets of New York City with one in your hand, like a bad-ass? I have. And guess what? Everyone moved aside like I was Moses or something, shielding their eyes to prevent going blind from the glow of the artificial orange coloring. Because you've got the power. They know who you are now. How? If you'll notice, the side of your holy grail has been engraved with your name in permanent marker for everyone to see. That's how important you are. And why else would there be three locations across from each other on every street corner in the city? Because without them we would have nothing. We would BE nothing.
THE ATTENTION
As mentioned before, the social media sites are just sipping this stuff up. An official announcement addressed specifically to white girls has been made via the citizens of Twitter declaring its arrival. As they should. Because as soon as Summer has ended it isn't enough that the temperature has dropped down to the mid-70's to really know that Fall is upon us. That is why, with Ugg Boots in tow, we impatiently await the Falling of the First Leaf and anticipate the coming of The Great and Powerful Latte. Pumpkin, the sacred food of which we worship. You think Trader Joe's Pumpkin Pancakes just grow on trees? Fuck, no! This is a time of celebration! Who cares that your wallet feels lighter each morning? On behalf of all the white girls of the world, I propose a national holiday is in order. You really want to prove you're a feminist to all of your friends in Book Club? Well here's your chance. It's time to take a fucking stand. Pinterest and Tumblr were good platforms for a start, but we need to get this on primetime for everyone above the age of 45 to know. I'm talking CNN and shit. Until then, word on the street is Fox News will be doing an hour-long special about it.
THE RUMORS
You may have heard by now the infamous "Tale of the Pumpkin Spice Latte". Legend has it that if you say the words "Pumpkin Spice Latte" three times in the mirror, a girl in yoga pants will appear and tell you all of the things she loves about the fall.
ALL TRUE. In fact, I performed the seance in front of my very own bedroom mirror just last night, right after spin class. She came to me, like an earth-toned angel in the wind, smelling of sweet apple cider and freshly bought artisan scarves.
It. was. magical.
And last, but definitely not fucking least…
THE TASTE
If you haven't experienced the extreme pleasures of drinking a Starbuck's Pumpkin Spice Latte, then let me break it down for you. First, there's literally a mountain of whipped cream you must conquer before even getting to the drink itself. Intimidated? Good. I'm not fucking finished. Once your lips graze its fluffy consistency you'll detect a hint of pumpkin spice sprinkled on the top like it's fucking fairy dust or something. Now comes the really good part. Once the whipped cream has disappeared from the top, where it has either melted in the drink or found a home on your upper lip, you'll begin to taste the sweet infusion of coffee, milk, and all that other creamy, godly stuff it's got. Whatever. You're pretty much drinking pumpkin pie. Your whole throat and chest feels like they've just been cuddling with puppies. That is the feeling of your soul being warmed. And that cute guy in the J. Crew sweatshirt sitting across the table who was just outlining a mockup in his Moleskine journal? You think he's looking at the girl with the boring-ass mocha piece-of-crap-pé? NO. You better believe he's watching you, this autumn goddess sitting by the window and cupping her holy cardboard grail, looking all cozy and shit like a fucking model in a fucking L.L. Bean catalogue.
So look, you can say all you want about this 12 oz. gift of liquid sex on a roller-coaster. You can call us basic or whatever, but there is nothing basic about it. There are inumerable amounts of ingredients and phony flavoring I can't even begin to pronunciate. Hell, it doesn't even contain real pumpkin! You think we care? Big fucking deal. It only comes once a year. It's like Santa Claus, but you can't eat Santa Claus because he's not a pumpkin spice mother-fucking latte. So go do yourself a favor, and try one. See if you can handle it. I dare you.
