Pale white tiles guide you through the entrance. Windows enclose around you, bathing your soul with raw sunlight, and a smooth hum of music vibrates your body. Finally, a seat is found as you adjust yourself in this home- like environment, with a hand wrapped around the glass mug of coffee.

I only saw this place as home, my home. Not  as a business, not as a public space for people with unfamiliar faces to meet and sip coffee together, not as my mother’s coffee shop. This area was me.

We called our home the Gypsy House Cafe. After a year long journey to France, London, and my native land, Lebanon, my mother and her twin set action into making their dream into a reality. We were unsure of the location, but there were no amount of challenges that could shoot us down. I was six years old when the place was finished and ready for me to take on the world, while gaining and giving inspiration.

It was this very place, where I received the opportunity to meet a woman I would grow up admiring, and dreaming to work with. Her petite figure, cheerful personality, and wildly creative fashion … Read more!