It’s a brisk Saturday morning in mid-November and a dozen young Torontonians are gathered in Liberty Village to drink coffee, listen to an ambient playlist and discuss life in the city.
Attendees are in their “self-care era,” their “quit your job era” or living their “single arc.” There is talk of solo-travelling, burnout and why tech industry networking events suck.
But the conversation isn’t happening at Starbucks, Balzac’s or Arvo.
It’s taking place in Rabia Sohail’s one-bedroom condo, where many storeys above the street attendees have paid at least $11 to gather on her couch and floor to meet new people.
Sohail, an outgoing 26-year-old, has lived in Toronto for two-and-a-half years. After quitting her full-time tech job this spring, she founded see.u.irl, a community-building effort that combines her in-person events and newsletter Toronto IRL.
“A bunch of my friends had been talking about how much they hate Toronto,” Sohail said in a phone interview. “[They] talked about leaving for career opportunities, but also for the desire to have community the way there is in other large North American cities.”
She believes there is lots going on in Toronto — but that many young people don’t know how to find out about the type of events she would attend and post about online, like drawing nights and clay-building workshops held in “aesthetic places."
“There actually is stuff here,” she said. “I had an era of being a micro-influencer, so I had a small following on Instagram and a small following on TikTok, and I found that I was getting such a high volume of emails or DMs saying ‘Oh my God, how do you live your life like this in Toronto? How do you find out about these things?’”
In addition to the weekly Serendipitous Cafe, Sohail also uses her condo to host “vibey” crafting workshops ($40 per ticket) and book clubs ($20).
She advertises on Instagram, TikTok and in her newsletter, then releases tickets in monthly batches. Most events sell out within 48 hours. (At the time of writing, every Saturday cafe in November and December is sold out, except for the date closest to the Christmas holidays.)
All prices are pay-what-you-can with a minimum floor. Some people pay much more because they want to support the venture, Sohail said, and accommodations are made for those who let her know they can’t afford the cost.
Tough talk in a tiny space
Frequently hosting large groups in a small condo requires logistics. Sohail solves for space issues by not having a TV console and by encouraging guests to sit on the floor, a nod to her Pakistani heritage.
Guests with cat allergies are warned in advance about Miso, her talkative Egyptian Mau. Coffees are customized to attendees’ liking and pastries are laid out on the kitchen island.
On the Saturday TorontoToday attended, the group of 12 ticket holders were mostly in their 20s, mainly women and very diverse.
The socializing was more sharing circle than cocktail chatter, with Sohail prompting the group to take turns answering questions about their goals for 2025 and the status of their dating lives.
Things got deep fast.
Krishna Eleti, a 23-year-old who recently moved to Toronto from New Jersey for work, told the group he’s been questioning “whether love is real.”
Other attendees complained about “the apps” and suggested Toronto might be in a “dating recession.” Someone told a horror story about being on the receiving end of a Harry Potter-themed pickup line.
Despite the attendees’ relatively young ages, the term biological clock was thrown around more than once, with many expressing concern that they are falling behind their friends who are getting married and having kids.
A 23-year-old woman who requested her name not be published said she had been worrying about her biological clock — a popular topic on TikTok — but recently started watching Sex and The City.
Seeing the fictional female characters living it up in their thirties made her realize she still has time, the attendee told the group.
That these strangers are so open to talking about tough subjects is credit to Sohail, who facilitates the conversation with humour and care. She thinks guests are comfortable around her because “they feel like they know me a little bit” through social media.
“I think the biggest thing that people like to talk about at the cafe, and the reason they're looking for community, is that they‘re the single person in their friend group,” Sohail said.
“They're not getting that same community and connection from their existing friendships. They're looking outwards.”
“You can't make everyone your best friend, but it's nice to know that you can just come to this place where you'll see familiar faces, where the host will remember your coffee order and you can just come hang out for an afternoon, instead of having [friendships] be, like, super high lift, and super deep and serious all the time.”
Charging for chatter
Sohail told TorontoToday she has never received pushback from her audience for charging money for her in-home hangouts.
“We’re trying to build a community … there is an inherent cost, because there is an exchange of goods and time and space and my private information,” she said. “I think people are very receptive to it.”
Indeed, there are many spaces in the city — like night clubs and fitness classes — where people pay an entry fee to enjoy a group setting.
“The feedback that I've gotten is that I should charge more,” she said. “Which is why I switched to pay-what-you-can.”
Asked whether she wished community-building coffee chats could happen in a more grassroots manner, without attendees having to buy tickets, Sohail kept her business hat on.
“In an ideal world, I would love it if I could somehow secure funding to do this in an intimate commercial space,” she said. “I wish it could exist in that way.”
Sohail was inspired by Montreal influencer Vic Lauren, who began hosting similar Saturday cafes out of a Villeray-neighbourhood apartment that blew up online. Those have now expanded to pop up spaces.
Sohail is saving up her earnings to rent a commercial space, but admits she’s a long way off from being able to comfortably secure one.
Since launching July, Serendipitous Cafe has fostered friendships, new “micro-communities” and a few first dates, she said, and many guests are recurring attendees.
“I feel like coffee and baked food is like the perfect universal thing that allows, like, anyone to be able to connect,” Sohail told TorontoToday.
Editor's note: This story has been updated to clarify that ticket prices for the Serendipitous Cafe did not increase in December. While the listed price is $15, $11 remains the floor for the pay-what-you-can pricing system.
