‘Close to water': Sydney's prestige suburb outperforming the rest
Among Sydney suburbs with a median house price of $4 million or more, Bellevue Hill recorded the highest median house price growth over the five years to end of March, climbing 71.1 per cent to $9,625,000, on Domain data.
Bellevue Hill was followed by Northbridge, with a median house price of $5,160,000 and growth of 68.1 per cent. The remaining top five spots were taken by Mosman, which rose 63.9 per cent to $5,373,500; South Coogee, up 62.1 per cent at $4,400,000; and nearby Coogee, up 60.8 per cent over five years to $4,325,000.
Rounding out the top 10 were North Bondi (up 46.2 per cent), Woollahra (up 44 per cent), Hunters Hill (up 40.8 per cent), Vaucluse (up 39.9 per cent) and Manly (up 37.6 per cent).
Ray White Group chief economist Nerida Conisbee said interest rates being 'so low' during COVID was a reason for luxury property to perform well over the five years.
'We tend to think of super wealthy people not using borrowing to buy homes, but a lot of them would have because when you can borrow at an extremely low-interest rate, it makes sense to borrow money and then invest your cash,' she said.
'So, not all of those areas are on the beach, obviously, but a lot of them are quite close to water. So that was also a significant trend; that when people were locked down, they did want to be in places that were walkable, close to water, in a really pleasant environment.'
High interest rates had led to a softening of the luxury property market, Conisbee said.
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2 hours ago
- The Advertiser
COVID's gone, costs are not: How Newcastle's hospitality scene is hanging on
At Bank Corner on a weekday morning, as the weather cools into winter and a handful of the nine-to-five crowd wait for their order, it's hard to recall that not that long ago we were scared this would all be gone forever. It has been five years since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Hunter. There was the time before, and the time after. As we get further from it being our present, it becomes clearer that comparing the before and after is futile. Under the long shadow of the virus, living costs choked the weekly budget in a long and painful hangover of swollen inflation, supply shortages, wage stagnation and unaffordable rent. In that climate, venue owners say customers are less concerned about superficial luxuries and retail guff. They care about value for money and the sense of reliability in a world swimming upstream against a cascade of modern anxieties. Alyssa Salamon, the owner of the Newcastle West cafe on Bellevue Street, knows the names of her regulars and their orders by heart. She says Bank Corner customers crave that connection and authenticity. There is no time before the pandemic for her business to compare with now. She has worked in hospitality for years, but only became the owner of the West End landmark in January last year. She wants to keep out the sterile modernities that came from the pandemic years: to take the orders herself, make eye contact with her customers, and chat about their day. There are no screens in the cafe, and little branding. There's no front-facing tablet screen asking for reviews. If the service and the coffee are good, you can mention it to the staff yourself. Chances are, they remember you from last time. "I think there is something to be said for a cosy little corner where you don't have screens," Salamon says. "You're not ordering off a QR code menu. "I've been through my fair share of grieving, and sometimes going to an establishment where you're seen and recognised, and you're held in that bit of gentle space, is important." Salamon has made gradual progress for the past few months on extending the cafe's hours and securing its liquor license, but she is taking it steadily. She's conscious of not changing too much too quickly, and talks often about respecting the history of the place. One of her first improvements was to cut a section of bench that had previously jutted out. A patron had dropped by and offered to help, and Salamon was sawing the timber freehand when she went about 10 millimetres off track. There's a small knot in the side of the bench now, almost invisible if you did not know it was there. For Salamon, it's a stamp of her identity on a place that already has so much of its own. "It was a beautiful way of christening the space in that it was such a community effort," she says. The weekday crowd has never really come back to The Kent. Everyone is watching their spending these days, and the cross-town pub that used to cater to the office and retail workers around the suburb is now competing with the fast-and-cheap alternatives. Still, the 101-year-old Beaumont Street establishment has held on. "I think people are saving their money for the one night a week to go out," group director Chris Fitzsimmons says. "You get those nights where it seems like everyone just picked Saturday this week - no one Friday and then, on Saturday, there's a line around the corner." The venue has been enticing customers back with new lunch specials and pub staples like schnitzels and wings. It has had mixed results, Fitzsimmons says. "The patterns used to be a lot easier to pick," he says. "You used to have a better idea of what was going to happen day to day. These days, it's more crystal ball." Newcastle MP Tim Crakanthorp, who has been involved in a string of revitalisation efforts in the city pre- and post-COVID, says venue owners and managers have been operating in a rapidly changing environment for a long time. The culture has been turning increasingly to moderation. Rates of drinking, particularly among people under 30, have been steadily declining. Of those who partake, the number of weekly drinkers increasing their intake rose around 2013 and has remained fairly consistent since, according to government data. "People are going out, but they are finessing where they go," Crakanthorp says, noting a growing preference for small and medium-sized venues. "The cost of living is driving people out of the city and into the outer suburbs. "There are a lot of green shoots in the night-time economy. For the bigger ones, it is tough at the moment, but we see positives as well." Josh Distefano, the owner of Vera Wine on Beaumont Street, believes there's a benefit in having a small and casual space. You can be in and out in 15 minutes, he says, and there have been plenty of customers who have taken him up on the offer. The three-year-old bottle shop secured a license to serve their wares in-store in November, and has since added a handful of small tables at the front of the shop. Customers are time-poor. They have commitments and obligations, and those have costs. And costs have gone up. Distefano is sceptical about the oft-repeated line that customers are looking for boutique experiences, too. When he opened the shop, he wanted to offer something for everyone with an experience that could not be found at the commercial chains. "People will remember how they felt, more than what they ate," he says. "Having that connection with your guests is important." When Distefano received the email from the Newcastle Herald with the news that Audrey Nash, the city's fearless children's advocate, had died last month, he immediately sent a message to her family. Mrs Nash had visited the store a few times over the previous year, and he had got to know her. "Her family came in that night and had drinks and we were a bit quiet," Distefano says. "I sat down with them and reminisced. These people become part of your family." On a Wednesday night, about 9pm, Chris Wilson opens the door to The Koutetsu bar on Hunter Street and immediately puts out his hand. He has been at work since before 9am, and he won't leave until after closing time, but he greets every customer warmly and asks about their day. This new climate has him feeling like he is building his business all over again, and working the same and longer hours. He opens the bar four nights a week. He would like to open for seven, but the demand is not there yet. Uber has been a game changer, helping patrons get around the city on demand. He likes the light rail, but also believes that getting it was a travesty of public planning that almost crippled the city and businesses like his. "It was so hard to get a taxi in Newcastle, back in the day," he says. "I know the tram is very polarising and, mind you, I was lucky that it didn't go in front of my business. The people who got through that debacle - hats off to them because that would have been so stressful, but I use it when I can." Ultimately, he says, the trick to a vibrant social and cultural economy does not come solely from having busy bars and restaurants open all hours. Rather, the city's entire infrastructure must work to serve the population, and one of the happy effects is a thriving hospitality scene. The veteran barman is a stickler for service. He and his bartenders would rather open for 20 customers and serve each of them with consistently impeccable wares than fill the place to capacity and see customers walking out frustrated over a long wait for a drink. He could change his hours, or his menu, or his style on a whim, chasing the new flavour of the week. But he says doing so would cost him the patronage he has spent years struggling to build. "The more you chop and change, the more confused your guests get," he says. "They would rather go somewhere where they know they are going to get a drink." There's no magic trick, no social media algorithm or strategy that will fill the place until it's standing room only. Customers, in that sense, want what they have always wanted. "We're here to serve," Wilson says. "People work hard for their money, and when they are paying for a cocktail, they deserve to get quality and to get it quickly." At Bank Corner on a weekday morning, as the weather cools into winter and a handful of the nine-to-five crowd wait for their order, it's hard to recall that not that long ago we were scared this would all be gone forever. It has been five years since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Hunter. There was the time before, and the time after. As we get further from it being our present, it becomes clearer that comparing the before and after is futile. Under the long shadow of the virus, living costs choked the weekly budget in a long and painful hangover of swollen inflation, supply shortages, wage stagnation and unaffordable rent. In that climate, venue owners say customers are less concerned about superficial luxuries and retail guff. They care about value for money and the sense of reliability in a world swimming upstream against a cascade of modern anxieties. Alyssa Salamon, the owner of the Newcastle West cafe on Bellevue Street, knows the names of her regulars and their orders by heart. She says Bank Corner customers crave that connection and authenticity. There is no time before the pandemic for her business to compare with now. She has worked in hospitality for years, but only became the owner of the West End landmark in January last year. She wants to keep out the sterile modernities that came from the pandemic years: to take the orders herself, make eye contact with her customers, and chat about their day. There are no screens in the cafe, and little branding. There's no front-facing tablet screen asking for reviews. If the service and the coffee are good, you can mention it to the staff yourself. Chances are, they remember you from last time. "I think there is something to be said for a cosy little corner where you don't have screens," Salamon says. "You're not ordering off a QR code menu. "I've been through my fair share of grieving, and sometimes going to an establishment where you're seen and recognised, and you're held in that bit of gentle space, is important." Salamon has made gradual progress for the past few months on extending the cafe's hours and securing its liquor license, but she is taking it steadily. She's conscious of not changing too much too quickly, and talks often about respecting the history of the place. One of her first improvements was to cut a section of bench that had previously jutted out. A patron had dropped by and offered to help, and Salamon was sawing the timber freehand when she went about 10 millimetres off track. There's a small knot in the side of the bench now, almost invisible if you did not know it was there. For Salamon, it's a stamp of her identity on a place that already has so much of its own. "It was a beautiful way of christening the space in that it was such a community effort," she says. The weekday crowd has never really come back to The Kent. Everyone is watching their spending these days, and the cross-town pub that used to cater to the office and retail workers around the suburb is now competing with the fast-and-cheap alternatives. Still, the 101-year-old Beaumont Street establishment has held on. "I think people are saving their money for the one night a week to go out," group director Chris Fitzsimmons says. "You get those nights where it seems like everyone just picked Saturday this week - no one Friday and then, on Saturday, there's a line around the corner." The venue has been enticing customers back with new lunch specials and pub staples like schnitzels and wings. It has had mixed results, Fitzsimmons says. "The patterns used to be a lot easier to pick," he says. "You used to have a better idea of what was going to happen day to day. These days, it's more crystal ball." Newcastle MP Tim Crakanthorp, who has been involved in a string of revitalisation efforts in the city pre- and post-COVID, says venue owners and managers have been operating in a rapidly changing environment for a long time. The culture has been turning increasingly to moderation. Rates of drinking, particularly among people under 30, have been steadily declining. Of those who partake, the number of weekly drinkers increasing their intake rose around 2013 and has remained fairly consistent since, according to government data. "People are going out, but they are finessing where they go," Crakanthorp says, noting a growing preference for small and medium-sized venues. "The cost of living is driving people out of the city and into the outer suburbs. "There are a lot of green shoots in the night-time economy. For the bigger ones, it is tough at the moment, but we see positives as well." Josh Distefano, the owner of Vera Wine on Beaumont Street, believes there's a benefit in having a small and casual space. You can be in and out in 15 minutes, he says, and there have been plenty of customers who have taken him up on the offer. The three-year-old bottle shop secured a license to serve their wares in-store in November, and has since added a handful of small tables at the front of the shop. Customers are time-poor. They have commitments and obligations, and those have costs. And costs have gone up. Distefano is sceptical about the oft-repeated line that customers are looking for boutique experiences, too. When he opened the shop, he wanted to offer something for everyone with an experience that could not be found at the commercial chains. "People will remember how they felt, more than what they ate," he says. "Having that connection with your guests is important." When Distefano received the email from the Newcastle Herald with the news that Audrey Nash, the city's fearless children's advocate, had died last month, he immediately sent a message to her family. Mrs Nash had visited the store a few times over the previous year, and he had got to know her. "Her family came in that night and had drinks and we were a bit quiet," Distefano says. "I sat down with them and reminisced. These people become part of your family." On a Wednesday night, about 9pm, Chris Wilson opens the door to The Koutetsu bar on Hunter Street and immediately puts out his hand. He has been at work since before 9am, and he won't leave until after closing time, but he greets every customer warmly and asks about their day. This new climate has him feeling like he is building his business all over again, and working the same and longer hours. He opens the bar four nights a week. He would like to open for seven, but the demand is not there yet. Uber has been a game changer, helping patrons get around the city on demand. He likes the light rail, but also believes that getting it was a travesty of public planning that almost crippled the city and businesses like his. "It was so hard to get a taxi in Newcastle, back in the day," he says. "I know the tram is very polarising and, mind you, I was lucky that it didn't go in front of my business. The people who got through that debacle - hats off to them because that would have been so stressful, but I use it when I can." Ultimately, he says, the trick to a vibrant social and cultural economy does not come solely from having busy bars and restaurants open all hours. Rather, the city's entire infrastructure must work to serve the population, and one of the happy effects is a thriving hospitality scene. The veteran barman is a stickler for service. He and his bartenders would rather open for 20 customers and serve each of them with consistently impeccable wares than fill the place to capacity and see customers walking out frustrated over a long wait for a drink. He could change his hours, or his menu, or his style on a whim, chasing the new flavour of the week. But he says doing so would cost him the patronage he has spent years struggling to build. "The more you chop and change, the more confused your guests get," he says. "They would rather go somewhere where they know they are going to get a drink." There's no magic trick, no social media algorithm or strategy that will fill the place until it's standing room only. Customers, in that sense, want what they have always wanted. "We're here to serve," Wilson says. "People work hard for their money, and when they are paying for a cocktail, they deserve to get quality and to get it quickly." At Bank Corner on a weekday morning, as the weather cools into winter and a handful of the nine-to-five crowd wait for their order, it's hard to recall that not that long ago we were scared this would all be gone forever. It has been five years since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Hunter. There was the time before, and the time after. As we get further from it being our present, it becomes clearer that comparing the before and after is futile. Under the long shadow of the virus, living costs choked the weekly budget in a long and painful hangover of swollen inflation, supply shortages, wage stagnation and unaffordable rent. In that climate, venue owners say customers are less concerned about superficial luxuries and retail guff. They care about value for money and the sense of reliability in a world swimming upstream against a cascade of modern anxieties. Alyssa Salamon, the owner of the Newcastle West cafe on Bellevue Street, knows the names of her regulars and their orders by heart. She says Bank Corner customers crave that connection and authenticity. There is no time before the pandemic for her business to compare with now. She has worked in hospitality for years, but only became the owner of the West End landmark in January last year. She wants to keep out the sterile modernities that came from the pandemic years: to take the orders herself, make eye contact with her customers, and chat about their day. There are no screens in the cafe, and little branding. There's no front-facing tablet screen asking for reviews. If the service and the coffee are good, you can mention it to the staff yourself. Chances are, they remember you from last time. "I think there is something to be said for a cosy little corner where you don't have screens," Salamon says. "You're not ordering off a QR code menu. "I've been through my fair share of grieving, and sometimes going to an establishment where you're seen and recognised, and you're held in that bit of gentle space, is important." Salamon has made gradual progress for the past few months on extending the cafe's hours and securing its liquor license, but she is taking it steadily. She's conscious of not changing too much too quickly, and talks often about respecting the history of the place. One of her first improvements was to cut a section of bench that had previously jutted out. A patron had dropped by and offered to help, and Salamon was sawing the timber freehand when she went about 10 millimetres off track. There's a small knot in the side of the bench now, almost invisible if you did not know it was there. For Salamon, it's a stamp of her identity on a place that already has so much of its own. "It was a beautiful way of christening the space in that it was such a community effort," she says. The weekday crowd has never really come back to The Kent. Everyone is watching their spending these days, and the cross-town pub that used to cater to the office and retail workers around the suburb is now competing with the fast-and-cheap alternatives. Still, the 101-year-old Beaumont Street establishment has held on. "I think people are saving their money for the one night a week to go out," group director Chris Fitzsimmons says. "You get those nights where it seems like everyone just picked Saturday this week - no one Friday and then, on Saturday, there's a line around the corner." The venue has been enticing customers back with new lunch specials and pub staples like schnitzels and wings. It has had mixed results, Fitzsimmons says. "The patterns used to be a lot easier to pick," he says. "You used to have a better idea of what was going to happen day to day. These days, it's more crystal ball." Newcastle MP Tim Crakanthorp, who has been involved in a string of revitalisation efforts in the city pre- and post-COVID, says venue owners and managers have been operating in a rapidly changing environment for a long time. The culture has been turning increasingly to moderation. Rates of drinking, particularly among people under 30, have been steadily declining. Of those who partake, the number of weekly drinkers increasing their intake rose around 2013 and has remained fairly consistent since, according to government data. "People are going out, but they are finessing where they go," Crakanthorp says, noting a growing preference for small and medium-sized venues. "The cost of living is driving people out of the city and into the outer suburbs. "There are a lot of green shoots in the night-time economy. For the bigger ones, it is tough at the moment, but we see positives as well." Josh Distefano, the owner of Vera Wine on Beaumont Street, believes there's a benefit in having a small and casual space. You can be in and out in 15 minutes, he says, and there have been plenty of customers who have taken him up on the offer. The three-year-old bottle shop secured a license to serve their wares in-store in November, and has since added a handful of small tables at the front of the shop. Customers are time-poor. They have commitments and obligations, and those have costs. And costs have gone up. Distefano is sceptical about the oft-repeated line that customers are looking for boutique experiences, too. When he opened the shop, he wanted to offer something for everyone with an experience that could not be found at the commercial chains. "People will remember how they felt, more than what they ate," he says. "Having that connection with your guests is important." When Distefano received the email from the Newcastle Herald with the news that Audrey Nash, the city's fearless children's advocate, had died last month, he immediately sent a message to her family. Mrs Nash had visited the store a few times over the previous year, and he had got to know her. "Her family came in that night and had drinks and we were a bit quiet," Distefano says. "I sat down with them and reminisced. These people become part of your family." On a Wednesday night, about 9pm, Chris Wilson opens the door to The Koutetsu bar on Hunter Street and immediately puts out his hand. He has been at work since before 9am, and he won't leave until after closing time, but he greets every customer warmly and asks about their day. This new climate has him feeling like he is building his business all over again, and working the same and longer hours. He opens the bar four nights a week. He would like to open for seven, but the demand is not there yet. Uber has been a game changer, helping patrons get around the city on demand. He likes the light rail, but also believes that getting it was a travesty of public planning that almost crippled the city and businesses like his. "It was so hard to get a taxi in Newcastle, back in the day," he says. "I know the tram is very polarising and, mind you, I was lucky that it didn't go in front of my business. The people who got through that debacle - hats off to them because that would have been so stressful, but I use it when I can." Ultimately, he says, the trick to a vibrant social and cultural economy does not come solely from having busy bars and restaurants open all hours. Rather, the city's entire infrastructure must work to serve the population, and one of the happy effects is a thriving hospitality scene. The veteran barman is a stickler for service. He and his bartenders would rather open for 20 customers and serve each of them with consistently impeccable wares than fill the place to capacity and see customers walking out frustrated over a long wait for a drink. He could change his hours, or his menu, or his style on a whim, chasing the new flavour of the week. But he says doing so would cost him the patronage he has spent years struggling to build. "The more you chop and change, the more confused your guests get," he says. "They would rather go somewhere where they know they are going to get a drink." There's no magic trick, no social media algorithm or strategy that will fill the place until it's standing room only. Customers, in that sense, want what they have always wanted. "We're here to serve," Wilson says. "People work hard for their money, and when they are paying for a cocktail, they deserve to get quality and to get it quickly." At Bank Corner on a weekday morning, as the weather cools into winter and a handful of the nine-to-five crowd wait for their order, it's hard to recall that not that long ago we were scared this would all be gone forever. It has been five years since the COVID-19 pandemic reached the Hunter. There was the time before, and the time after. As we get further from it being our present, it becomes clearer that comparing the before and after is futile. Under the long shadow of the virus, living costs choked the weekly budget in a long and painful hangover of swollen inflation, supply shortages, wage stagnation and unaffordable rent. In that climate, venue owners say customers are less concerned about superficial luxuries and retail guff. They care about value for money and the sense of reliability in a world swimming upstream against a cascade of modern anxieties. Alyssa Salamon, the owner of the Newcastle West cafe on Bellevue Street, knows the names of her regulars and their orders by heart. She says Bank Corner customers crave that connection and authenticity. There is no time before the pandemic for her business to compare with now. She has worked in hospitality for years, but only became the owner of the West End landmark in January last year. She wants to keep out the sterile modernities that came from the pandemic years: to take the orders herself, make eye contact with her customers, and chat about their day. There are no screens in the cafe, and little branding. There's no front-facing tablet screen asking for reviews. If the service and the coffee are good, you can mention it to the staff yourself. Chances are, they remember you from last time. "I think there is something to be said for a cosy little corner where you don't have screens," Salamon says. "You're not ordering off a QR code menu. "I've been through my fair share of grieving, and sometimes going to an establishment where you're seen and recognised, and you're held in that bit of gentle space, is important." Salamon has made gradual progress for the past few months on extending the cafe's hours and securing its liquor license, but she is taking it steadily. She's conscious of not changing too much too quickly, and talks often about respecting the history of the place. One of her first improvements was to cut a section of bench that had previously jutted out. A patron had dropped by and offered to help, and Salamon was sawing the timber freehand when she went about 10 millimetres off track. There's a small knot in the side of the bench now, almost invisible if you did not know it was there. For Salamon, it's a stamp of her identity on a place that already has so much of its own. "It was a beautiful way of christening the space in that it was such a community effort," she says. The weekday crowd has never really come back to The Kent. Everyone is watching their spending these days, and the cross-town pub that used to cater to the office and retail workers around the suburb is now competing with the fast-and-cheap alternatives. Still, the 101-year-old Beaumont Street establishment has held on. "I think people are saving their money for the one night a week to go out," group director Chris Fitzsimmons says. "You get those nights where it seems like everyone just picked Saturday this week - no one Friday and then, on Saturday, there's a line around the corner." The venue has been enticing customers back with new lunch specials and pub staples like schnitzels and wings. It has had mixed results, Fitzsimmons says. "The patterns used to be a lot easier to pick," he says. "You used to have a better idea of what was going to happen day to day. These days, it's more crystal ball." Newcastle MP Tim Crakanthorp, who has been involved in a string of revitalisation efforts in the city pre- and post-COVID, says venue owners and managers have been operating in a rapidly changing environment for a long time. The culture has been turning increasingly to moderation. Rates of drinking, particularly among people under 30, have been steadily declining. Of those who partake, the number of weekly drinkers increasing their intake rose around 2013 and has remained fairly consistent since, according to government data. "People are going out, but they are finessing where they go," Crakanthorp says, noting a growing preference for small and medium-sized venues. "The cost of living is driving people out of the city and into the outer suburbs. "There are a lot of green shoots in the night-time economy. For the bigger ones, it is tough at the moment, but we see positives as well." Josh Distefano, the owner of Vera Wine on Beaumont Street, believes there's a benefit in having a small and casual space. You can be in and out in 15 minutes, he says, and there have been plenty of customers who have taken him up on the offer. The three-year-old bottle shop secured a license to serve their wares in-store in November, and has since added a handful of small tables at the front of the shop. Customers are time-poor. They have commitments and obligations, and those have costs. And costs have gone up. Distefano is sceptical about the oft-repeated line that customers are looking for boutique experiences, too. When he opened the shop, he wanted to offer something for everyone with an experience that could not be found at the commercial chains. "People will remember how they felt, more than what they ate," he says. "Having that connection with your guests is important." When Distefano received the email from the Newcastle Herald with the news that Audrey Nash, the city's fearless children's advocate, had died last month, he immediately sent a message to her family. Mrs Nash had visited the store a few times over the previous year, and he had got to know her. "Her family came in that night and had drinks and we were a bit quiet," Distefano says. "I sat down with them and reminisced. These people become part of your family." On a Wednesday night, about 9pm, Chris Wilson opens the door to The Koutetsu bar on Hunter Street and immediately puts out his hand. He has been at work since before 9am, and he won't leave until after closing time, but he greets every customer warmly and asks about their day. This new climate has him feeling like he is building his business all over again, and working the same and longer hours. He opens the bar four nights a week. He would like to open for seven, but the demand is not there yet. Uber has been a game changer, helping patrons get around the city on demand. He likes the light rail, but also believes that getting it was a travesty of public planning that almost crippled the city and businesses like his. "It was so hard to get a taxi in Newcastle, back in the day," he says. "I know the tram is very polarising and, mind you, I was lucky that it didn't go in front of my business. The people who got through that debacle - hats off to them because that would have been so stressful, but I use it when I can." Ultimately, he says, the trick to a vibrant social and cultural economy does not come solely from having busy bars and restaurants open all hours. Rather, the city's entire infrastructure must work to serve the population, and one of the happy effects is a thriving hospitality scene. The veteran barman is a stickler for service. He and his bartenders would rather open for 20 customers and serve each of them with consistently impeccable wares than fill the place to capacity and see customers walking out frustrated over a long wait for a drink. He could change his hours, or his menu, or his style on a whim, chasing the new flavour of the week. But he says doing so would cost him the patronage he has spent years struggling to build. "The more you chop and change, the more confused your guests get," he says. "They would rather go somewhere where they know they are going to get a drink." There's no magic trick, no social media algorithm or strategy that will fill the place until it's standing room only. Customers, in that sense, want what they have always wanted. "We're here to serve," Wilson says. "People work hard for their money, and when they are paying for a cocktail, they deserve to get quality and to get it quickly."
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- News.com.au
Sydney's cheapest coastal suburbs revealed
They're the off the radar suburbs where home seekers can snap up beach homes for as little as $720,000 - and winter conditions mean it's possible to get better bargains than over the rest of the year. PropTrack research has revealed multiple coastal suburbs across Greater Sydney where median prices remain under $1 million - about $500,000 cheaper than the typical price of a house across the city as a whole - with some properties in these areas listed for well below that. It comes as experts pointed to sales data showing July was peak beach house bargain-hunting season. Part of the reason was that cold conditions meant beach living was rarely on people's minds, creating a seasonal dip in demand at just the time when a greater number of desperate sellers were putting their homes up for sale. Ray White Group chief economist Nerida Conisbee said beach house hunters could get better deals and more favourable negotiation terms in winter. 'Selling in winter in a beachside location is generally not something people do,' she said. 'If they are selling, they are potentially a highly motivated seller and that's where you could get a bargain. 'While you'll have greater choices in summer, it's in winter that buyers will have a higher chance to save money.' In the Greater Sydney area, PropTrack's data showed The Central Coast offered the most budget-friendly coastal homes, with all 10 of the cheapest locations to buy a house located in the region. Budgewoi took top spot as the most affordable coastal suburb in Greater Sydney, with a median house sale price of $760,000. Fellow Central Coast suburb Chittaway Bay, further south and on the shores of Tuggerah Lake, has a median house price of $880,000. Nearby suburb The Entrance was the most affordable place to buy a beachside unit at a median sales price of $675,000. Outside of the Central Coast, suburbs south of the Sydney CBD, such as Brighton-Le-Sands and Monterey made the list of the most affordable places to buy a beachside unit, with median prices of $800,000 and $900,000, respectively. Back up the Central Coast, in Umina Beach, where house prices are typically $1.15m, residents John and Jenny Gavin said the cheaper prices were worth the longer commute into work each week. 'I travelled to Sydney for work, but I was normally at work in about an hour and 10 minutes,' he said, commenting on the location 80km north of the Sydney CBD. The payoff was a location four minutes' from the beach, he said. 'Once you get back here on the weekend, it's all worth it,' Mr Gavin said. 'When the kids grew up here they all played with their friends at the beach. It was a good lifestyle.' The couple's home, which they built for $300,000 14 years ago, is now up for sale with a price guide of $1.6 million to $1.7 million as they attempt to downsize. Ray White Umina Beach sales associate Amy Sherrin said Central Coast homes offered beachside living at a fraction of the price of those closer to the city. 'It's very much a close-knit family location where everyone goes down to the beach with their dogs on the weekend,' she said. 'If you were down in Bondi, you'd be paying five times the price for the same kind of lifestyle.' According to Ms Sherrin, buyer interest in the area comes from families making the move up north from the Northern Beaches and The Hills. CHEAPEST BEACHSIDE SUBURBS (GREATER SYDNEY) Houses: Suburb Median sale price Budgewoi $760,000 Noraville $870,000 Chittaway Bay $888,000 The Entrance $990,000 Empire Bay $1,108,000 Bateau Bay $1,150,000 Umina Beach $1,150,000 Ettalong Beach $1,240,000 Forresters Beach $1,430,000 Terrigal $1,583,000 Units: Suburb Median sale price The Entrance $675,000 Brighton-Le-Sands $800,000 Elizabeth Bay $850,000 Umina Beach $870,000 Monterey $900,000 Ettalong Beach $900,000 Dee Why $975,000 Cronulla $1,040,000 San Souci $1,085,000 Ramsgate Beach $1,100,000
