On a rainy Tuesday evening in the back alley of Schwabing, a group of strangers gathers under a flickering neon sign that reads Kitty Core. No one is wearing cat ears. No one is posting selfies. They’re just sitting on wooden crates, sipping warm tea, talking about the quiet joy of fixing broken things - a chair, a clock, a neighbor’s garden gate. Someone plays a vinyl record of 1970s German folk music. No one dances. Everyone listens.
This isn’t a party. It’s not a trend. It’s not even really a movement. But if you ask the people who show up here every week, they’ll tell you it’s the only place in Munich where they feel truly at home.
Kitty Core didn’t start in Tokyo. It didn’t come from Instagram influencers or TikTok aesthetics. It was born in the quiet corners of Munich, in the spaces between old apartments and forgotten workshops, where people began to realize that being gentle wasn’t weakness - it was resistance.
What Is Kitty Core, Really?
Kitty Core isn’t about cute cats. It’s not pastel colors, plush toys, or anime wallpaper. That version of "kitty" got sold to the internet. The real Kitty Core is something quieter, deeper. It’s the German word Sanftmut - gentleness - turned into a way of living.
It’s the woman who repairs her grandmother’s porcelain cat figurine with gold lacquer, not to hide the cracks, but to honor them. It’s the man who leaves homemade jam on his neighbor’s doorstep every Sunday, no note, no expectation. It’s the student who sits with the homeless man outside the Hauptbahnhof every evening, not to fix his life, but to listen.
Unlike American "cottagecore" or Japanese "kawaii," Kitty Core doesn’t seek escape. It doesn’t romanticize the past. It doesn’t pretend the world is soft. It just chooses to be soft anyway - in a city that values efficiency, order, and discipline.
Why Munich?
Munich isn’t known for being gentle. It’s known for Oktoberfest, BMWs, and strict punctuality. The city runs on clocks, not feelings. But beneath that surface, there’s a long tradition of quiet rebellion - the kind that doesn’t shout, but simply refuses to participate.
In the 1980s, the Wohngemeinschaften (co-living collectives) in Schwabing and Haidhausen became places where people lived without landlords, shared meals, and fixed each other’s bikes. No one kept score. No one asked for rent. They just did what needed doing.
That spirit never died. It just changed shape. Today, you’ll find it in the Kitty Core circles: people who reject the pressure to be productive, loud, or visible. They don’t want to go viral. They want to be seen - truly seen - by someone who knows their name.
There’s a café in the 8th district called Die Katze im Regen - The Cat in the Rain. It’s owned by a retired librarian named Elke. She doesn’t take reservations. She doesn’t have Wi-Fi. She serves tea in mismatched cups. And every day, someone new walks in, sits down, and stays for hours. No one leaves without being asked, "How are you, really?"
The Rules of Kitty Core
There are no official rules. But if you spend time in these circles, you learn them fast.
- You don’t ask why someone is quiet. You sit with them.
- You fix things before you replace them.
- You give without expecting thanks.
- You say "thank you" even when you didn’t get anything.
- You don’t post about it.
The last one is the most important. Kitty Core isn’t for attention. It’s for presence. If you start taking photos, you’re already outside it.
There’s a story about a man who showed up at one of the gatherings with a handmade cat-shaped lantern. He said he made it for his daughter, who passed away. He didn’t cry. He just placed it on the table. Someone lit a candle. No one spoke for ten minutes. Then someone brought out a loaf of rye bread. They shared it. That’s all.
The German Influence
Kitty Core doesn’t exist without Germany’s cultural DNA. The country has a long history of valuing Ordnung - order - but also Respekt - quiet, deep respect for boundaries and dignity.
There’s a phrase in Bavarian dialect: "Geh ma, dass ma uns net störe" - "Let’s go, so we don’t bother each other." It sounds cold, but it’s not. It’s the opposite. It means: I see you. I don’t need to fix you. I’ll just be here.
That’s Kitty Core. It’s not about being loud or proud. It’s about being present without demanding anything in return.
Compare it to the American "self-care" trend. Self-care is often transactional: "I deserve this spa day because I worked hard." Kitty Core says: "I deserve to sit quietly because I’m here. That’s enough."
Who Shows Up?
You won’t find influencers here. You’ll find:
- A retired engineer who rebuilds old radios and gives them away to lonely seniors
- A nurse who brings homemade soup to people with chronic illness every Thursday
- A teenager who writes letters to strangers in hospitals, just to say, "I’m thinking of you"
- A woman who walks her neighbor’s dog every morning because the neighbor is too sick to get up
- A man who sits on a bench near the Isar River every evening and reads poetry aloud - to no one in particular
They’re not activists. They’re not artists. They’re just people who’ve decided that kindness doesn’t need a stage.
Is Kitty Core Growing?
Yes - but not the way you think.
There are no hashtags. No merch. No TikTok dances. But in the last two years, three new Kitty Core gatherings have started - in Nuremberg, Freiburg, and Leipzig. Each one is different. Each one is quiet. Each one is growing because people are tired of being told to "be more" - more visible, more successful, more exciting.
They’re tired of being told to perform happiness. So they’re choosing quiet joy instead.
At the last gathering in Munich, someone brought a small wooden box. Inside were 17 handwritten notes. Each one said: "I’m not okay today. But I’m here." No one read them out loud. They just passed the box around. One by one, people added their own note. Then they closed it and left it on the table. No one took it. No one needed to.
What Kitty Core Isn’t
It’s not a lifestyle brand. You can’t buy it. You can’t replicate it with candles and fairy lights.
It’s not therapy. It’s not a support group. It’s not even a community in the traditional sense. There’s no sign-up sheet. No organizer. No mission statement.
It’s not about being "good" or "moral." It’s about being real - in a world that rewards performance.
And it’s not for everyone. Some people feel uncomfortable with the silence. Some people need noise to feel safe. That’s okay. Kitty Core doesn’t ask you to join. It just waits - quietly - for you to show up.
How to Find It
You won’t find Kitty Core on Google Maps. You won’t find it on Instagram. You’ll find it by accident.
Maybe you’re walking past a bakery and smell fresh bread. You go in. The owner says, "Help yourself to a slice. I made too much." You sit down. Someone else is reading a book. You say hello. They smile. No small talk. Just silence. That’s it.
Or maybe you see a flyer taped to a lamppost: "Tea. Quiet. No phones. 5 PM. The old library. Bring a cup." You go. You sit. You stay.
There’s no secret handshake. No password. Just a willingness to be still.
Why It Matters
In a world that tells you to hustle, to grow, to post, to climb - Kitty Core offers something radical: permission to be small.
It doesn’t promise wealth. It doesn’t promise fame. It doesn’t promise change.
It just says: You’re enough. Right here. Right now. Even if you’re broken. Even if you’re tired. Even if you don’t know why you’re here.
That’s the German spirit. Not the beer halls. Not the autobahns. Not the history books.
The quiet one. The one that doesn’t need to be remembered.
But it remembers you.
