Paris on the Platte at 1553 Platte St. in Denver is closed. I miss it. It was once the oldest coffee house in Denver located in the heart of LoDo Confluence Valley.
Paris was one of my old haunts from the high school days in the early 1990s. It basically remained the same over the years, save a few minor differences.
There was always sub-par artwork for sale from paintings to sculptures to pottery displayed on the walls. The food and coffee were first-class.
I enjoyed this laid back coffee house. It was open late although I preferred to go there during the day when I was older.
Many ghosts of the past are present there. I could sense it in the air and in the walls. I could almost feel myself regressing into my former, high school nerdy self while sitting in the back room shortly before it closed permanently. I wanted to wear a beret for some odd reason. I heard Ween in my head.
Many late-night hours were spent at Paris in my stoned youth playing chess, hanging out with friends, writing stories, smoking clove cigarettes, drinking café Mexicana, café Fantasia, looking at crappy books in the bookstore and doing all of the pretentious coffee house things a wayward youth did in the early 90s.
Paris was a nice alternative to Starbucks and one cannot go wrong with supporting local businesses in lieu of corporate, on every corner, coffee slag.
I always ordered café Fantasia, grub chips and salsa (red onions and cilantro made this homemade salsa oh so good) and a Ruben sammich on marble rye.
Every time I visited I kept expecting to get accosted by black clothed/hooded Goth kids while I was trying to keep from spilling the full of chunks salsa down my front. Goth kids were rarely seen in these modern days but I dribbled the foodie stuff all over myself as usual. I try to be graceful but to no avail.
I miss Paris. It was good times.
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