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View on web September 30, 2026 It insists upon itself. Francky Knapp Credit: Eater Staff Free millennials from their PSL cringe As early as July, both my personal and work inbox became harbingers of pumpkin spice: pumpkin spice hummus, pumpkin spice granola, and pumpkin spice margaritas; pumpkin spice Spam, pumpkin spice protein bars, and, of course, variations on pumpkin spice lattes (PSL). Along with Michael Jackson and Ruth Bader Ginsberg, these cinnamon-y lattes have achieved such ubiquity that they’re known by their initials alone. So powerful is PSL’s reach that it may even be able to deliver Starbucks from its ongoing sales slump; a recent report from market research company Numerator says the “fall menu could reverse loyalty declines,” for the chain, which has been struggling recently in light of various boycotts. Historically, PSLs constitute 10 percent of the chain’s annual sales. For all of the power it yields, PSL — which has become a kind of portmanteau for anything pumpkin-pie-flavored — has slipped into the annals of millennial cringe. Every autumn, I look forward to enjoying my non-Starbucks pumpkin spice lattes; sometimes, however, I feel sheepish when ordering them, like I’m fueling the flames of the hyper-personalized, fussy drink complex. I say this not to be gratuitously grumpy, but because I want PSL to be a more redeeming part of millennials’ food and drink legacy. Starbucks’ PSL was first introduced in 2003, the same year that The Simple Life premiered and the U.S. invaded Iraq. It was the third-ever seasonal beverage introduced by the chain, and almost didn’t make the cut — in fact, it was on the bottom of the list of potential new beverages, below safer bets like caramel and pecan. Starbucks’ current director of store development and strategy, Peter Dukes, helped develop the first PSL, and he told Food Network in 2023 that it was the uniqueness of pumpkin spice that made it worth the gamble (“the only thing you saw that was pumpkin [20 years ago] was pumpkin puree to make pumpkin pies and maybe some pumpkin pie topping”). Once social media took off, so, too, did the fanfare around PSL in the 2010s. In 2026, most of the millennial generation is approaching middle age. That also means that our cultural contributions have either started to curdle or find new legs; the head-down, post-2008 recession work ethic that I grew up with has soured due to what my Gen Z colleagues would rightfully call a lack of healthy work-life boundaries; the millennialisms that have gained a more nostalgic patina, however, can be seen when Lizzie McGuire Hilary Duff tosses a coin into the Trevi Fountain, or Gen Alpha watches SpongeBob. Lately, however, it feels like the millennial food legacy has suffered flop after flop, from the secondhand embarrassment of the stomp-clap burger restaurant to the schadenfreude around avocado toast, which I guess we all bought instead of houses. The cult of PSL is now a robust machine. It insists upon itself, spawning pumpkin face masks and pumpkin lube. It is interesting, though, to learn that an aging Gen Z age may be ushering us into a freer, more post-cringe culture. I think we’re finally entering the perfect conditions in which I can shepherd my love of PSL (read: away from Starbucks; towards a local coffee shop) to a prouder place, instead of one where it’s muttered under my breath at the counter. Unlike Victor Frankenstein, I want to love my monster. Where Eater's editor-in-chief actually eats A biweekly dispatch on what Stephanie Wu is eating, reading, and thinking about. Get the newsletter   More for the table Check out the freshly updated Eater app guide to the best restaurants in Charlottesville, Virginia. Eater’s Nat Belkov detailed his entire Sifnos, Greece, food itinerary, and it’s a feast of freddo cappuccinos and revithada, which Belkov describes as a “soul-soothing Sifnian speciality of stewed chickpeas in olive oil with onion and herbs.” Anthony Bourdain’s