The Story of Honey Boba

The past few years, we’ve seen a plethora of cafés and teashops. Seems people simply want to forego a bar’s high octane energy and just hang out, people-watch. Those not old enough to drink flock to lounges like Honey Boba.

Here’s a different exuberance, driven by changing hormones. Inside, popped-out colours in Piet-Mondrian-like blocks vie with neon fluorescent lighting. Now enters a hipster, on the arm of her boyfriend, in tight pink jeans and long blonde hair.

Sip your bubble tea, your mango smoothie. Or maybe the black tea espresso—made pronto. Or a more sedate soy milk latte, perhaps? Munch on brick toast—two thick slices of white toast cut twice diagonally and sumptuously slathered with one of a few sweet sauces. Coconut and chocolate banana are rad.