Name Game Part 2: An Age of Psychedelegance

Rippling through consciousness and only just perceivable in the fringes of the mind's eye lies a haunting mirage. Drifting through this waking dream while time ebbs and flows around you, your synapses plead for clarification, desperately trying to make sense of the oppressive kaleidoscopic miasma before you. And then: Clarity. It's the Eldritch horror of 6:30 A.M. Lucky for you the shamans at our cafes are well equipped with unfiltered, powerful psychedelegance to banish the void and pull you out of its clutches. Whether it's black cat bone hoodoo, fusions of old world with the new age, or just plain old mysticism, today we shine a light on our locations that perfectly channel the rock n roll spirit that their names inspire.

The location for which the word Psychedelegance was forged, Meddle is bathed in purple neon and silver-green wallpaper, surrounding the senses to separate entirely from the chaos and bustle of downtown Chicago, a suspension in time and space. Just like the wall crumbling away to a coffee jungle, Meddle breaks through convention to reveal a deeper experience. 

Electric Mud crackles with energy and prismatic light leaving hazy tracers as far as the eye can see.  Inside, infamous polka dot patterns, sites like the Maxwell Street Open Air Market, and the history of Chicago blues permeate through ones consciousness. These ripples from Blues' origins in the Mississippi Delta still hold the spirituality and mysticism of hoodoo, black cat bones, gris-gris, and mojo hands. 

Going through the doors of Caravanserai is like stepping through a temporal rift to an outdoor Acayucan market. The floors turn to cobblestone and the walls give way to an infinite horizon. Quetzals flutter around the archways, a hidden menagerie in the bathrooms, and vibrant plants are scattered throughout. Caravanserai is also our first partnership with La Rifa Chocolateria out of Mexico City. 

Sleep Walk is a Ritchie Valens' mestizo lowrider dream swirling with the people and culture of a pre-colonial Mexico. The smell of warm cocoa fills the building and wraps your senses in a dream-like sense of calm. A complete separation from the physical self and into a land where it's always sunset and Billy Stewart croons into your ear.