The world basically broke in 2020. We all remember that eerie silence, the smell of sanitizer, and the sudden, desperate need for a hobby that didn't involve staring at the ceiling. For a huge chunk of the creative class, that hobby—and eventually that lifeline—became a mix of brewing high-end beans and hitting "publish" on a newsletter platform called Substack.
It sounds almost like a cliché now. A writer sits in a dimly lit kitchen, the steam from a V60 pour-over rising while they type out a thousand words on the existential dread of isolation. But the intersection of Substack coffee and Covid wasn't just a trend. It was a fundamental shift in how we consume media. We moved away from the loud, chaotic energy of the 24-hour news cycle and toward something slower. Something intimate. Something that felt like sitting across from a friend at a local cafe, even when that cafe was shuttered behind plywood.
✨ Don't miss: Chestnut Brown Highlights Dark Brown Hair: The Real Way to Get Warmth Without the Brass
People were lonely. They were also caffeinated.
Why the "Slow Web" Mattered During a Global Pandemic
Before the pandemic, Substack was a niche tool for techies and journalists who were tired of their editors. Then came the lockdowns. Suddenly, everyone had an opinion on sourdough, and everyone had way too much time to obsess over their morning brew.
This wasn't just about caffeine. It was about ritual.
When the outside world feels like it's spinning out of control, you grab onto the things you can regulate. The weight of the grounds. The temperature of the water. The specific, rhythmic cadence of a long-form essay landing in your inbox at 8:00 AM on a Tuesday. This synergy between Substack coffee and Covid created a new type of digital architecture. We stopped doom-scrolling Twitter—or at least we tried to—and started paying for "direct-to-consumer" intellect.
The growth was staggering. By late 2020, Substack had over 250,000 paying subscribers. By 2021, that number cleared a million. Writers like Heather Cox Richardson and Matt Taibbi weren't just writing articles; they were providing a morning routine. For many, reading these newsletters became as essential to the start of the day as that first double espresso.
The Rise of the "Specialty" Mindset
Specialty coffee and independent newsletters share a specific DNA. They both prioritize quality over mass appeal. During the pandemic, the "home barista" movement exploded. Sales of high-end grinders and Chemex brewers went through the roof because, honestly, if you can't go to the office, you might as well make the best damn cup of coffee of your life.
Substack offered the same "artisanal" vibe for your brain.
- You weren't getting a watered-down, corporate-approved take.
- The writer had total "beans-to-cup" control over the content.
- It felt exclusive, even if anyone with a credit card could join.
- The feedback loop was direct, like chatting with the guy behind the counter at your favorite local spot.
The Economic Reality of the Newsletter Boom
Let's be real for a second. The obsession with Substack coffee and Covid wasn't just about the "vibe." It was about survival. Journalists were getting laid off in droves as ad revenue plummeted. Substack offered a way to monetize a loyal audience without needing a billionaire owner or a legacy brand.
But it’s a grind.
Writing a newsletter is a lot like running a small coffee shop. You have to show up every single day. You have to keep the quality consistent. If the "roast" is off one week, people notice. During the height of the pandemic, the pressure to produce content that helped people make sense of the chaos was immense. Writers became more than just reporters; they became community leaders.
👉 See also: World War 1 Soldiers in Trenches: The Reality They Didn't Show You on the Posters
They also became influencers for the coffee lifestyle. You’d see it in the headers of the emails: a blurry photo of a latte art heart next to a MacBook. It was a visual shorthand for "I am working from home, I am sophisticated, and I am sane." This aesthetic helped bridge the gap between "news" and "lifestyle," making the act of staying informed feel less like a chore and more like a luxury.
Addressing the Fatigue
Eventually, the novelty wore off. Zoom fatigue is a real thing, and so is newsletter fatigue. By 2022, the world started opening back up. People realized they had subscribed to twelve different "intellectual" newsletters and hadn't read a single one in three months.
The relationship between Substack coffee and Covid shifted from a desperate necessity to a choice. The creators who survived the "re-opening" were the ones who built genuine communities. It wasn't enough to just have a good take on the news; you had to offer a space where people felt seen.
Some writers even leaned into the coffee angle literally. There are Substacks dedicated entirely to the science of the bean, the ethics of the supply chain, and the best places to find a flat white in Berlin. These niche communities proved that the pandemic hadn't just changed where we worked, but what we valued. We want expertise. We want personality. We want to know that the person on the other side of the screen is a real human being with a messy kitchen and a caffeine addiction.
The Science of Ritual and Focus
There is actually some interesting psychology behind why the coffee/newsletter combo works so well. Coffee is a stimulant that triggers dopamine release. When you pair that with the intellectual satisfaction of learning something new or feeling "in the loop," you create a powerful habit loop.
During the pandemic, our brains were starved for dopamine.
Everything was scary. Everything was the same.
By creating a morning "ceremony" involving Substack coffee and Covid updates, people were essentially self-medicating. They were using caffeine to wake up their nervous systems and long-form writing to engage their prefrontal cortexes. It was a way to fight back against the "brain fog" that everyone was complaining about.
A study from the University of California, Irvine, once noted that it takes an average of 23 minutes to get back into a deep state of focus after an interruption. The newsletter format—as opposed to the infinite scroll of social media—is designed for that deep focus. You open the email, you sit with it, you finish it. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. In a world that felt like a never-ending loop of bad news, having a "finished" piece of content was a psychological win.
What We Get Wrong About the Substack Era
A lot of people think Substack killed traditional journalism. That’s a bit dramatic. What it did was highlight the flaws in the old system. It showed that people are willing to pay for quality if they feel a personal connection to the creator.
The "Substack coffee" vibe isn't about being a hipster. It's about intentionality. It's about choosing what you put in your body and what you put in your head.
Actionable Insights for the Post-Pandemic Reader
The world has changed, but the lessons of the last few years still apply. If you're feeling overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information out there, you can still use the "slow web" philosophy to find your balance.
Audit your inbox.
Go through your subscriptions. If you haven't opened a newsletter in a month, kill it. You don't need the guilt of an unread "must-read" take staring at you every morning. Keep the three that actually make you think or make you smile.
Create a "No-Phone" ritual.
Try this: don't look at your phone until the coffee is brewed. It takes five minutes. Use those five minutes to just exist. Then, when you sit down with your mug, open your favorite Substack. Read it as a reward, not a task.
Support the "Baristas" of words.
If you have the means, pay for the content you value. The pandemic showed us how fragile the creative economy is. A five-dollar monthly subscription is basically the price of one fancy latte, but it keeps a writer's lights on.
Experiment with "Deep Reading."
Instead of skimming the headlines, pick one long-form piece a day. Set a timer for 15 minutes. No tabs, no notifications. Just the text and your drink. You'll find that your retention goes up and your anxiety goes down.
💡 You might also like: Why the Jesus with Cross Statue Remains a Global Icon of Resilience
The era of Substack coffee and Covid might have started as a survival tactic, but it evolved into a more conscious way of living. We learned that we don't need to be plugged into the firehose of information at all times. Sometimes, all you need is a good cup of coffee, a quiet room, and a voice you trust landing in your inbox.
The chaos of 2020 forced us to slow down. The challenge now is making sure we don't forget how to do it.
Next Steps for Your Morning:
- Pick one Substack author who challenges your worldview, not just one who confirms it.
- Invest in a high-quality, ethically sourced bag of beans from a local roaster.
- Set your phone to "Do Not Disturb" for the first 30 minutes of your day to protect your mental space.