Concept. 2017

One of the most important questions in any business is its concept. To put it simply, here’s what I mean: a concept is the answer to three questions—what, how, and for whom you’re going to sell. Without a concept, it’s impossible to define where you’re headed or how you’ll get there. For someone my age and with my kind of interests, that clarity is essential. That’s why I—and by extension Fenster—have a concept.

It’s worth noting that you don’t just need a concept for the first, basic level—the sales point itself—but also a separate one for the business as a whole, if the business is more than just one location. So at minimum, you need two concepts.

Right now, let’s talk about the first level: the concept of Fenster, the coffee shop I opened on Fleischmarkt (Griechengasse) in Vienna. I’ve touched on this topic in earlier pieces, but here I’ll systematize and sum things up.

From the very beginning, Fenster’s concept in 2017 was this:

Coffee to go—tasty, fast, affordable, and fun.

From this definition came several key points:

Menu:

  • Only coffee and coffee drinks
  • Coffee spanning both “regular” and “specialty” segments
  • Drinks that are both “classic” and signature
  • No food or other add-ons

Operations:

  • Card or online payments only
  • No tables, no patio
  • Therefore no restrooms
  • Our own order and payment system
  • Maximum speed in prep and service
  • Super-friendly staff

Equipment:

  • High-end specialty-grade
  • Reliable

Ingredients:

  • Top quality only

Target visitors:

  • Coffee enthusiasts
  • People working in nearby offices
  • Locals
  • Tourists

Now here’s a crucial detail.

When I opened Fenster, I leaned heavily on my personal beliefs and vision. I imagined it primarily for connoisseurs, coffee geeks, and true coffee gurus. That’s why I decided to invest in the very best AAA-class equipment to make the most refined “gourmet” coffee. The reason was simple. Not just because that kind of gear could brew exceptional coffee—though it did, and I did—but because I was convinced that when someone walked up to Fenster, saw our machines, and realized how extraordinary they were, they’d be compelled to order equally extraordinary coffee. Then those gurus, with their families, friends, and networks, would spread the word, and their authority would become our best advertising.

That’s why I poured so much time and money into coffee experiments. With great excitement, I would pull 90-second low-pressure, low-temperature shots for the two people who actually cared, using the revolutionary Sanremo Opera with built-in scales and pressure profiling.

That’s why I bought expensive, rare specialty beans that 99.9% of coffee drinkers had never even heard of—and still haven’t.

That’s why Brazil didn’t even appear on our menu in the early days.

And that’s why I had the time, in Fenster’s first stage, to focus so much energy there.

In other words, from the start, we catered to the people who really knew coffee, trusting that they’d carry our reputation forward.

At the same time, by positioning the menu as a “coffee universe”—only coffee, but for every taste (except instant 3-in-1)—I believe I made the right call. That’s what allowed me to add Fensterccino as a sort of “ad product.” It was originally meant just as a visual hook, something that looked great and drew attention, before slowly steering people toward “real,” delicious coffee.


And here’s where it got interesting.

Yes, plenty of people admired our machines. But I noticed that very few of those admirers actually knew much about coffee. What drew them in was the design, the lights, the sense that the machine was obviously expensive. And it was. But that wasn’t what I wanted them to focus on, and it wasn’t the point I was trying to make. Slowly, this started shifting how I thought about what I was doing—and who I was really doing it for.

And then, about a year and a half after opening, an influencer from the Gulf region stumbled upon Fenster. He tried our signature Fensterccino, loved it, and soon his followers began ordering it obsessively. That moment changed the concept—though only in one single way.

And about that one change—I’ll tell you in the next chapter.

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