A space dedicated to the meeting of strangers

On refinding my why

Hello from nyc,

In the second half of last year, I made a conviction to build again: the very same idea I had first attempted to build back in San Francisco in 2019—a social teahouse brand that brings together different walks of life. This time, it’ll be in New York, a different city and a different approach knowing what I know now, but with the same vision and the same dream.

I’m constantly looking for words to describe what this dream means. The process of writing helps me articulate my why. This is one of the many essays that will help me shape my why.

Reply to this email to say hi or comment if any of the below resonates. I’d love to hear from you.

Also, hosting a small tea conversation in NYC this Friday. You and your friends are invited. RSVP here :)

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"Why do you care so much?" A friend asked as I told him about my conviction to try again to build my business.

I looked into the distance and muttered, "A part of me will always feel lonely, if this didn't exist."

Turning to look at my friend and feeling a bit ashamed of what I said, I quickly added, "I meant, of course, feeling this way is a choice. I can always try harder to meet people and find community. People with agency can find joy in all things..."

As someone who values agency, I have always told myself that one can shape one's thoughts and actions. If I feel a lack of meaningful connections, I must do more to change the situation and not let negative thoughts consume my mind. This feeling of loneliness is not valid.

"No, let's go back to what you just said about how you will always feel lonely. You said it with such conviction. I think there is truth to that."

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In 2018, I went on a seven-month soul-searching journey. I wanted to uncover with a blank slate where my interest lay, to find my why and the what next.

I can't recall a specific moment. I remember walking past a cafe in the twilight, and the warm interior caught my attention. I paused. Pretending I was looking ahead, I sneakily peeked into the vibrant conversations inside. I saw animated hand gestures, bursts of genuine laughter, and people leaning forward into conversations. My eyes filled with eager curiosity of the wonderful ideas discussed.

As I typed these words, I recalled a childhood fairy tale: The Little Match Girl. The protagonist stood by the windows on a cold Christmas, looking inside at a world she did not have or belong to. She walked on in the snow, leaving behind the laughter and the warm holiday meals inside the windows.

Illustration from Hye-won Yang (source)

Lighting a match in my head, I imagined transforming that cafe into a space where, as I walk in, a host would smile at me and seat me down to a wonderful conversation, a space where we meet strangers or familiar faces, a space where the sole purpose is to gather.

Yes, I have friends, lots of them. They are interesting personalities from around the world met via hikes, taxis, and random launch parties. I once struck up a conversation with a flower shop owner in Lisbon and ended up on a blind date with a friend of his. Back at home in New York, I try to show up at a plethora of events and follow up with new friends for lunch and dinners.

Despite having all these friends and the continued effort, I frequently find myself alone like on that evening. In those moments, I browsed countless social events online: Upper East Side History, Architecture and Art Tour sounds like a fun adventure this weekend, but it’s not tonight. Salsa & champagne: I just want to sit and talk to someone, plus I don’t want to drink tonight. This one is in a few days; that one is networking and going around in surface-level conversations feels draining.

I realize in those moments, I’m not looking for a cool event or experience. The type of environment I found myself craving over again is one that feels like Central Perk in Friends. It’s not a specific event, but a place. A place where I can stop by on a whim and find friends old and new. A place that is low pressure where I can feel relaxed.

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There is a concept known as the third place— a place for the community to gather outside of the home (primary space) and office (secondary space).

In theory, coffee shops, libraries, and parks serve that function. In practice, the idea of chatting up people in these spaces remains a distant dream.

I can always walk into a coffee shop and strike up a conversation with a stranger. Yet, this is no longer the cultural norm. Some time in recent history, coffeehouses as a place of idea exchange became a place to work from. It takes summoning up great courage to approach the ones with their laptop.

What if there is a space designed to enable these types of informal, spontaneous interactions? It requires more than simply branding a space “as a community space” and putting up a “no laptop sign” for social interactions to happen. The execution of the space has to be more intentional, a space that makes connection effortless.

A friend helped me put it into words: “When a place is noisy, I can put on headphones. When it is cold, I can put on a jacket. What you are describing is a place that is sound and temperature regulated, but for connection.” A place that considers the who, where, and how (will share more on these in the near future) to build a strong culture, and only then is it ripe for connection.

So I made a conviction: to bring a space like that to life.

I leaned into the idea that without it, some part of me would probably always feel lonely.

I want to build a place where I no longer have to look from outside the windows, a place where I can walk in and feel that I belong in a conversation. And just maybe I’m not the only one in the world with this wish.

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See related post: Slow Spaces for Conversation

Building Solei, a social teahouse brand dedicated to a gathering of strangers.

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Thank you, friends from Write of Passage and Essay Club for the ideas and feedback: John S, Matthew Beebe, Cam Houser, Danny Oak, Leslie Kim, and Leo Ariel.