We Went To The Hello Kitty Cafe In Las Vegas, Here Are Our Takeaways

Nostalgia museums, pop-ups, and themed restaurants continue to permeate the culture. Although I dodged the manufactured whimsy of the Ice Cream Museum in NYC, the overtly corny "Saved By The Bell" Pop-Up (Saved by the Max), and my genuine intrigue of the "Bob's Burgers" residency, I fell into the pink-trimmed trap of Hello Kitty's cafe.

Partially to honor the fictitious feline's 50th birthday, temporary truck cafes and pop-ups sprinkled their way over a handful of North American cities in 2024; Vancouver, Canada, Irvine and Hollywood, California, and Las Vegas, Nevada all enjoy a little more whimsey than last year thanks to Hello Kitty's quinquagenarian status. Unlike the touring pop-ups tethered to beloved intellectual properties mentioned above, Hello Kitty Cafes seem to intend a semi-permeant status and list no end date for their residencies in their respective cities.

But how enjoyable are the heavily decorated treats from Sanrio's greatest hit's cutesy hot spot? Is the Kitty's storefront a castle, a litter box of sprinkles, or somewhere in between the three? I hit pause playing the slots during my Las Vegas vacation to traverse the intentionally mazelike walkways between casinos until I found one of two of Ms. Kitty's fushia eateries — this one at the MGM Park. To help you decide if parking near one of Hello Kitty's cafe ventures is worth a sidequest, I set aside my childhood allegiance to Japan's most famous cat, and I rated my overall experience based on the atmosphere, drinks, and sweets.

Unsurprisingly, Hello Kitty's cafe drips with blushed-toned paint, red bows, and playful, cartoonish flourishes. A relief from Vegas' sun-beaten Strip, and outside the cigarette stench of many casino floors, Hello Kitty's facade at MGM Park evokes outdoor mall courtyards among affluent suburbian areas more than the constant bustle of showgirls, "Magic Mike" surrogates, and advertisements for in-room IV-drips. 

Set beneath trees on a cobblestone clearing dotted with bright red tables and chairs, by Vegas Strip standards, the cafe is relatively tranquil, if not a little ordinary considering the surroundings. Would I have liked a life-size Hello Kitty bumbling about offering photos and waves? Yes, probably. But in the desert heat, a felt cat's head and faux fur would probably cause a dehydration crisis I would hate Sanrio to have on their hands.

After inching closer to the heavy-duty cafe line, I noticed that the photographable moments were kept more discreet or tableside than the all-out chaos I witnessed earlier in the day at the Bellagio's holiday-themed garden conservatory.

While inside the casino, I found myself jostled by fellow tourists thirsty for a selfie. Here, my Hello Kitty cohorts remained discreet, even self-conscious by their phone usage, and incredibly polite, not just for Vegas' standards. Perhaps because the steady stream of Kitty-heads scattered outside the thrum of a casino's erratic pace, or possibly because, like myself, other guests pre-gamed their orders and expectations before arriving, confusion, clogging, and jostling were absent from the cafe's ambiance even in a city where I've witnessed a Dunkin' Donuts employee scold a crowd for unruliness.

I can't imagine living a day as a Hello Kitty Cafe employee in the heart of Vegas; not only has the Formula 51 hubbub destroyed an already hectic commute, but generating any rapport with regulars must be nearly impossible in a dense population of tourists. This is all to say that all three Hello Kitty team members did more than I ever could by merely clocking into their shifts. Not only do they undoubtedly field identical questions throughout their shift, but they also must submit themselves to memorizing a laundry list of Hello Kitty merchandise and doling out shirts, keychains, coffee mugs, etc., to phone-distracted guests. 

Decked out in a Sanrio lanyard busy with pins, the staff also exudes a perky, knowing positivity due to the cafe's umbrella theme. Friendly, prompt, and unwaveringly helpful even when confronted with a battery of customer inquiries, the staff did not have a moment to chat amongst themselves, play music, or sip on their own drinks. Instead, they showed the focus of a card dealer and handed out information, themed pastries, and coffees with sweet passivity. Would I have liked to chat a little and discover what life as one of Hello Kitty's many apprentices feels like? Yes, but I'm also sure the trio of pink-clad employees are bound to both secrecy and a vow to keep the line moving. 

If you speak with me for over an hour, or if we happen to meet for coffee, I'll let you know within minutes I enjoyed a multi-year-long career as a barista in one of Portland, Oregon's busy cafes. While you might assume I'd scoff at the many stereotypes of the craft barista, I tend to see truth in many of the well-meaning insults aimed at my former profession. Overly stoic, dismissive, and (worst of all) judgemental, I've since left the espresso counter behind. I've now embraced the simple, nearly automated pleasures of a Dutch Brothers experience and expected a Sanrio-tinted version of the now national drive-through as I ordered my quartet of beverages. But unlike the pickup windows I guiltily haunt in my hometown, both drinks and execution exceeded expectations.

A well-oiled team, the staff member working the counter called out individual orders to a barista humming along through a list of requests. Impressed by their engagement, I requested a Thai iced tea, a hot mocha, a strawberry lemonade, and an Americano. Delivered within a minute, all four drinks arrived encased in Hello Kitty branded cups, pink straws, a kitty-shaped stirring stick, and (my favorite touch) a coffee sleeve printed with Hello Kitty's impassive face.

The unadulterated coffee, though roasted darker than my preference, held a pleasurable balance of earth and chocolate; the mocha veered slightly sweet but measurably less so than the average Starbucks concoction. The Thai-iced tea's sugar content initially shocked me before remembering the drink itself veers sweet, and the strawberry lemonade hit a faultless note of puckering sour lemon soothed by the approachability of genuine strawberry puree.

Although in no way specific to Hello Kitty outside of the adorable branding, I appreciated the show of restraint from the barista and recipe developers; no whipped cream or sprinkles in sight, and the hot and cold beverages both perked me up and kept me quenched to keep traveling the Strip. However, outside of the containers, I doubt I'd go out of my way to wander back into Kitty's claws for any one of the drinks, despite their appeal. 

A cursory glance at the Hello Kitty Cafe led me to convince my husband to make an appearance at the frilly pitstop, but not necessarily because I thought the desserts looked good — I thought they looked cute and, therefore, would make excellent Instagram fodder.

Grow up in a Keroppi-themed room in a culture otherwise soaked in Disney characters, and maybe you'd have the specific sort of brain rot I do; one drawn to at least handle every Sanrio object I see while shopping. So, the donuts, cakes, and cookies ornamented with the cartoons of my Asian-American childhood lured me into the claws of the cat's cafe.

Choosing from a menu of kaleidoscopic but interchangeable confections led me to panic-purchase a Hello Kitty bow cookie, a Hello Kitty cupcake, and a Keroppi donut. Like the drinks, the pastries landed quickly and housed in a box that put the McDonald's Happy Meal container to shame. The size of a small cat carrier, I felt a tinge of guilt both opening and later discarding such a thoughtfully designed item.

Inside the box, a soft pink cookie, a red velvet cupcake, and a cream-filled donut stared back at me (literally in Keroppi's case). I dove my glittered fingernails inside. The cupcake jolted me awake from both the dry texture of the cake's base, the non-existent cocoa flavor, and most of all, the chiplike fondant placard donning Ms. Kitty's face that felt cheap, superfluous, and disspiriting. The cookie, despite the excess sprinkles, snapped like a ginger cookie and lent itself to the moisture and flavor of both coffee drinks. Finally, my beloved Keroppi took me for a ride. Easily the cutest item on the entire menu, the frog's pleading eyes begged me to bite into his Brat-green skin and ruin the piece of everyday art I'd fawned over online for weeks.

The donut's dough gave under my jaws in heavenly surrender, though the neon glaze contained twice the gloss I'd have chosen, and the cream filling oozed a toothpaste pastel green from my bitemark as if I killed my cherished amphibian. Still, the winner of the bunch, my date and I morbidly finished the remainder of the frog-faced donut with our eyes averted to the offputting color choice of the pastry's cream.

The embarrassing equivalent of showing up to a rock band's show wearing their tee shirt, I realized too late I was adorned with the Keroppi purse I wear daily and the Keroppi tattoo on my forearm sticking well outside the reach of my tank top.

But, like any well-seasoned fangirl, I looked around and noticed I was amongst my people. Barely a child in sight, the key demographic for Hello Kitty's standalone coffee shop, at least during my half-hour in its pinkened glow, was women of the '90s and '00s. So, of course, we swerve here for a little extra swag we can't pick up on our trip to Hot Topic or our preferred Asian grocery. The Hello Kitty merch at MGM's installment for the bow-wearing feline all feature a food object and state the locale. With a merchandise section printed on the menu, the decisions I watched customers wring their hands over most was which to take home. Shirts, hats, mugs, plushies, socks, pins, and even ornaments all shine from the cafe's display case and clearly draw as many patrons as the edible items.

Don't be fooled by the nearby, unauthorized Sanrio cart — it's selling cheap, run-of-the-mill merch I've seen at mall kiosks cleverly set up to leech off business from Sanrio's official cafe.

For diehard Hello Kitty/Sanrio fans, the strength of the beverages still isn't worth seeking out unless the branding itself entices you — like it did me. As for the food, with a few tweaks, the absence of fondant, and perhaps a savory option, I'd return to Hello Kitty's tiny diner. However, as is, the treats were so sugar-filled that even the pigeons who call MGM Park home must suffer sugar overload within a week of pecking thickly frosted crumbs from the sidewalk.

That said, I've spent more and lost more in Sin City, and if you seek a monetary solace from the cacophony of neon and beckoning slot machines, a quick hit of sugar and caffeine washed down by a sidecar of cuteness could be time and money well spent. It was a better bet than I've ever found seated at a roulette table, but a worse one than finding a craft cafe. Living as a caloric high roller for one morning didn't send me into the red, but I'm in no hurry to rush back to the pink patisserie.