The once-bustling heart of Sydney's nightlife is fading, and the iconic Double Deuce Lounge, a former Bar of the Year, is the latest casualty. But here's where it gets controversial: is the rise of remote work killing the city's social scene? As the lounge prepares to close its Bridge Street location, co-owner Sebastian 'Cosmo' Soto laments, 'Friday nights just haven't been the same since COVID.' This sentiment echoes across the northern CBD precinct, where other venues like the acclaimed Allta and Kitchen by Mike are also packing up or relocating.
Double Deuce, named after the dive bar in the 1989 film Road House, will pour its last drinks in late December. Soto reveals they're negotiating a new, smaller site in the CBD with lower rent, a strategic pivot to survive the post-pandemic economic shift. 'We're adapting to fewer busy days,' he explains, noting that Friday trade has plummeted by a third. This drop isn't just about nostalgia; it's a financial hit that could cover wages, bills, or rent.
And this is the part most people miss: it's not just about fewer patrons. The entire rhythm of the city has changed. Mike McEnearney, former Rockpool head chef and founder of Kitchen by Mike, observes that CBD operators now obsess over office occupancy rates, especially on Mondays and Fridays when work-from-home (WFH) culture peaks. 'If I could work from home, I would,' he admits, highlighting the challenge of sustaining a lunch-focused business in a half-empty city center.
While Kitchen by Mike thrived mid-week, its model demanded consistent foot traffic. McEnearney is shifting focus to locations like the airport and the National Gallery of Australia, where crowds are steady. 'The city has changed, and we're moving with the times,' he says.
Allta, Sydney's celebrated Korean fine-diner, isn't dependent on spontaneous business lunches or after-work crowds, but even it couldn't resist the pull of Surry Hills. 'The CBD, especially on weekends, has grown quieter,' explains Anece So, Allta's chief business officer. 'Surry Hills offers the vibrant atmosphere and foot traffic we need.' Their new Reservoir Street location, significantly larger, allows them to lower menu prices, making their two-hat degustation experience more accessible.
Here’s the bold question: Is the CBD's decline irreversible, or can big business and policy changes revive its former glory? Soto hopes the pre-Christmas rush will boost trade one last time, but he, like many, longs for the return of office workers. 'I miss the Friday night nerves, the lounge packed early,' he reflects. Yet, he remains optimistic about the move: 'It’s time for a new vibe, one that lasts all week.'
As these venues adapt or exit, the story of Sydney's CBD becomes a cautionary tale—or perhaps a call to action. What do you think? Can the city reclaim its social crown, or is this the new normal? Share your thoughts in the comments below, and let’s spark a conversation about the future of urban nightlife.
