From sushi delivery to oat milk lattes, how ‘little treats’ provide sense of solace

VANCOUVER — Young customers and families filter in and out of Foglifter, a bustling café in Vancouver’s Mount Pleasant neighbourhood, ordering croissants and lattes.

Barista Nicholas Schorn says many, especially millennials, are open about their ritual.

“They will say, yeah, ‘I’m here for my little treat,’ pretty much quoted just exactly like that,” Schorn said.

“Or you’ll hear variations on, ‘It’s my one thing, it’s my one indulgence,’ as though … people aren’t really taking time for themselves in other ways.”

It’s part of what has been dubbed “little treat culture,” the pull of small indulgences to keep the blues at bay in the face of rising costs and seemingly insurmountable economic, political and environmental challenges.

Schorn speculates that customers acknowledging the treat aspect of a daily $6 latte — $7 with plant-based milk — is a form of self-awareness and justification, off-setting possible guilt over a cost that adds up over time.

The range of potential little treats is broad: home-delivered sushi, cigarettes, a fresh manicure, a new “skin” for a Fortnite game character.

Each serves as an everyday pick-me-up for young people grappling with mounting stresses, a sense of powerlessness and the unaffordability of long-term goals.

Little threats offer “a break from being so confused and overwhelmed,” said Schorn.

Catharine Winstanley, an expert in behavioural neuroscience with a focus on impulsivity at the University of British Columbia, said spending on little treats is understandable in the current climate.

“It does increase our sense of happiness. And paying utilities, saving for housing, just doesn’t come with that effective boost,” she said.

“It’s hard to get that pick-me-up by saying like, ‘Oh, if I take this $20 I’m going to put it towards, you know, a down payment for a house in 30 years.”

Winstanley said it’s “almost hardwired into our brains” to seek a boost sooner rather than later, especially if a larger reward feels out of reach.

“Delay discounting” — the tendency to devalue a reward the further it stretches into the future — is a natural inclination observed in “every animal that has been tested” for it, from mice to humans, said Winstanley.

“That delay to the time where you might be able to realize that goal and, you know, get that joy out of saving, is just so far in the future that its value is discounted.”

Little treats, meanwhile, offer immediate gratification.

Delay discounting is seen as a kind of impulsive decision making, Winstanley said. But everyone has a breaking point and, at a time when housing affordability is lacking, it makes sense to seek happiness now.

“I think people are feeling that squeeze, that the delay just isn’t worth it because it is going to be so long, and the lack of joy for that amount of time of just saving, saving, saving, is going to have more of a negative impact on their quality of life.”

There’s also much at stake for young people with the global climate crisis, and threats of annexation by U.S. President Donald Trump don’t help, Winstanley added.

Taylor Arnt, 27, of Winnipeg partakes in little treats, saying she and other young people sometimes reach for “fast, immediate dopamine hits” because larger purchases, such as buying a home, feel “so, so out of reach.”

Buying a little treat can also be used as a social interaction, she said.

“Sometimes my one interaction for the day is with that barista at the coffee shop,” Arnt said. “We are so desperate for connection that extends beyond a screen.”

Schorn, who uses they/them pronouns, recalls their mother questioning whether getting a job at a café was a good idea when rising living costs could prompt cutbacks on discretionary spending.

But Schorn said traffic in the café has only increased over the last year.

“I think that as the state of the world, as the plight becomes heavier, as pockets thin, people are actually seeking comfort and are more likely to come here.”

This report by The Canadian Press was first published Dec. 16, 2025.

— With files from Catherine Morrison in Ottawa

Brenna Owen, The Canadian Press