The El Loco cantina, tucked away on Sussex Street, offers you a visual feast even before you reach for the menu. You scan the fluorescent stools and tablecloths, assuring yourself that this was better than waiting for a seat at Bar Totti’s. You rejoice in your visit to Mexico, validated when your taste buds are sated with braised beef tacos. Your pocket gets lighter and merry laughter carries you along your odyssey as you snake through drinks at The Royal George, more drinks at Felix, and finally, the ivy Pool Club. The tap of your credit card becomes a metronomic, discordant hum that pinballs amongst the other patrons. Water sluices your body the next morning, rinsing off sweat, regret, and an overdrawn account.

When it comes to restaurants and nightlife venues, Sydneysiders are spoilt for choice. No two nights are the same — the sheer permutations of options ensures a fresh experience every time. Yet, when you indulge in a night out, all too often you are an unwitting marionette puppeted by the hand of large hospitality groups — with a high chance of it being one conglomerate in particular, Merivale.

Merivale possesses a discreet chokehold on Sydney’s hospitality industry. While familiar to some, few are aware of the full extent to which the company controls more than 80 well-loved venues from South Sydney to the furthest reaches of the Northern Beaches. Although diverse in nature, they relish in a shared veneer of high-class, visual curation, and pseudo-multiculturalism.

Most Merivale venues are geographically concentrated in Sydney’s CBD and Eastern Suburbs, bringing greater swathes of the ‘Merivale magic’ to upper-end communities. Beyond the CBD is a completely different ballpark; despite the occasional franchise, restaurants in Western Sydney are predominantly independent or family-run.

Part of Merivale’s allure to Sydneysiders is its capitalisation on something of a ‘glamorous city life,’ providing carefully curated dining experiences — an accessible luxury for those who can afford it. Photos of Totti’s rustic woodfired bread with Kusama-like char are seared into the collective consciousness of many Sydneysiders, especially young people. Instagram feeds are flooded by panning shots of the ivy pool club, and spreads of burrata, prosciutto, and olives are inescapable on stories and profile grids alike. Merivale is successful because it delivers — patrons can trust in adequately delicious food, treat-yourself vibes, and guaranteed Instagram-worthy aesthetics.

Sitting at the figurative and literal top is CEO Justin Hemmes, notorious for his business flair, flamboyant ‘playboy’ antics. Tabloids broadcast his every move, showcasing extravagant parties and new relationships aboard yachts, on the harbour, on his private island in far North Queensland, and during lavish dinners at his own venues.

Since its founding in 1957 by Justin’s parents, John and Merivale Hemmes, the company has kept its finger on the pulse, trailblazing in fashion as the first store in Australia to sell the miniskirt. Coming under Justin’s helm in 1997, the Merivale name quickly became ubiquitous in the hospitality and entertainment sectors, and the business began to scale.

Hemmes has garnered reverence and admiration from “corporates and slimy entrepreneurial types,” says Jake*, a former Merivale employee who has worked across several flagship venues within the ivy Precinct.

“He looks and acts like Jesus. [Merivale’s] roots [are] built into the nightlife and culture of the city… working at any one place means that you are somehow a part of the party. The benefits are positive, but it's so hard to enjoy it when everything in the organisation is built on such a massive amount of artifice,” he says.

In photos from an April staff party held at The ivy, on which Hemmes’ reportedly splurged more than $1 million, one employee wielded a Chinese-style parasol, enrapt by blinking fairy lights, bearing a gigantic image of CEO’s face.

Subsequently, Hemmes has been the subject of two Sydney Morning Herald articles — one of which was a Good Weekend cover story — in which he pontificated on the state of Sydney hospitality’s post-pandemic revival, and regaled a journalist with stories of diving for lobster on the South Coast to cook for his children.

Ezra*, another current employee, says that his training encompassed the history of Hemmes and his empire, requiring new staff to “answer questions about him, his family, and his entrepreneurship.”

Like any good empire, Merivale has shown no sign of slowing. In December 2021, the company was appointed the Exclusive Hospitality Experience Partner at the Sydney Cricket Ground for six years, and has recently expanded into Melbourne with the $43 million acquisition of seven-storey Tomasetti House on Flinders Lane. At the end of 2020, Hemmes reportedly sought an additional $500 million in funding to keep expanding.

Despite their market concentration, most restaurants under the Merivale portfolio are framed as individual entities, an illusion of choice created by the venues’ websites not sharing the same Merivale URL. Nevertheless, each venue endeavours to offer uniquely curated ambiences so that, even when monopolising George Street, the fit-out and visual design give the impression that they are independent.

Bar Topa is an intimate tapas bar furnished with green leather stools, a speckly green countertop, chalkboard menus, and a metallic sans serif font that adorns its front door. A stone’s throw away is Mr Wong's, which provides a contemporary experience of traditional Cantonese cuisine. High ceilings are paired with mismatching Chinese-style wooden furnishings while the exposed brick wall dons a mural of Zhou Xuan, one of China's Seven Great Singing Stars. The individualised brand identity is further echoed in the venues’ names, which denote familial ownership (see: Jimmy’s Falafel, mimi’s, will’s, Felix, Lorraine’s Patisserie, Bert's Bar & Brasserie, Ms. G’s, etc.)

Notably, this business strategy is not exclusive to Merivale. Other prominent hospitality groups include Solotel, who manage local pubs and bars such as Darlo Bar, and Swillhouse, who are famous for their world-class European-style restaurants.

“Merivale has a homogenising effect on Sydney's nightlife, I personally find that a lot of Merivale venues feel too sanitised and corporate, especially with the flagship venues like the ivy,” Ezra says.

“I think the problems of the industry also lay in the lack of unionisation, leaving worker's in a compromised position, however I understand that the lack of union activity comes from the casual position of the industry and the fact that most [employees] are not working for a career.”

Perhaps the Merivale monopoly is the inevitable consequence of its brutal capitalist environment. Like other conglomerates, Merivale’s monopoly status and maintenance of such regal power is no coincidence. By buying out much-loved heritage venues, such as The Vic on the Park in 2015 and Norton’s Irish in Leichhardt in June 2021, Hemmes ensures the empire’s sustained dominance, effectively asphyxiating smaller businesses.

Merivale also has an unparalleled hold on its employees. While the company offers a 50 per cent employee discount across all venues, superficial benefits are not enough to mask poor work conditions.

Former employee Lauren Burrows says that there was an “expectation to work 17-hour shifts in summer” and rely on “minimal compensation from tips” while working across multiple Merivale venues.

Job security also was not guaranteed. She recounts frequent ‘culling seasons’ where many coworkers were terminated for mild infractions. Burrows, dismissed after two and a half years, said that it felt like a “kick in the teeth.”

“The focus on sales, big spenders, trying to save as much as possible while also trying to provide an enjoyable experience for the customer…[this] is not a realistic way to run a company and also keep the employees happy,” she says.

Controversy surrounding Merivale’s treatment of its workers culminated in a $129 million class action that was filed in 2019 and is still ongoing. The company, who declined to provide comment, allegedly employed up to 14,000 staff under an outdated award and shortchanged them penalty and overtime rates.

The ‘Merivale Effect’ has made its rounds through youth culture and foodie groups, crafting a brand that caters to an air of exclusivity. When indulging, one is advised to avoid the trap of becoming a lotus-eater, intoxicated by the allure of high-class trends. Merivale has built the Monopoly board, but the dice are in your hands.

*Names have been changed

The Merivale Monopoly

Merivale possesses a discreet chokehold on Sydney’s hospitality industry.