Which is worse: advertising two-for-one drinks or selling Class A drugs on Facebook?
For The Golden Mile's bars battling through decline, revitalisation and those fearsome Courtenay Place gulls, getting punters in the door in the first place can be a hurdle. You're competing with every other watering hole in the neighbourhood, trendy green beverages, pigeon poo, and the grim fact that some people would rather stay home and watch TikToks. What's a proprietor to do?
In the case of The Residence Bar, a blackboard chalked up with jaunty martini glasses and a two-for-one happy hour offer seemed to be a good idea – until it wasn't. Owner Jose Ubiaga scrubbed it off after an email from the Wellington City Council, but six months later, it landed him in front of the Alcohol Regulatory and Licensing Authority for the 'irresponsible promotion of alcohol'.
The offer had breached the Sale and Supply of Alcohol Act 2012, which deems it an offence to promote a discount that 'leads people, or is likely to lead people, to believe that the price is 25% or more below the price at which the alcohol is ordinarily sold'. And because the sign could be seen outside the premises – also deemed 'irresponsible' by law – that was another no-no. The Authority decided on a 48-hour suspension and a negative holding for The Residence, while dismissing the complaint against Ubaiga's other business, The Dakota Bar, which promoted a similar deal on social media.
These online platforms have their own codes of conduct, and if you were to advertise the sale of alcohol or, better yet, magic mushrooms on Facebook, you'd risk having your listing removed.
Offline, the consequences of breaking the rules are a bit harsher. Ubiaga closed the bar for two days and reckons he lost thousands of dollars in potential earnings. While he accepted the mistake, he's been critical about the council's licensing policies in the past, calling them a contributing factor in the liquidation of his other bars, Rubix and SugarWoods, last year. He's not the only one; another Courtenay Place bar owner accused the council of 'ganging up' on the party precinct.
Licensing standoffs in the country's cities and regions make regular headlines (news reports explain grievances and rebuttals, while dutifully pointing out the harm caused by alcohol in communities) as communities and agencies try to curtail the social impacts of getting on the piss.
Selling booze is more complicated than a moustachioed mixologist's most inventive concoction. Bars, pubs and restaurants need an 'on-licence' licence. Getting one requires supporting documentation (including scale plans of the venue, menus, and host responsibility policies) and a fee, which ranges from three to four figures, depending on the business risk category and region. A sprawling Amohia Te Waiora flowchart outlines the complex process, including public notifications, consideration by District Licensing Committees and the Alcohol Regulatory and Licensing Authority, judgements and appeals and hearings. Some businesses have to wait months for approval. Others are flat-out declined.
The Sale and Supply of Alcohol (Community Participation) Amendment Act 2023 now allows anyone, excluding trade competitors, to object to an application, and is geared at giving communities a voice and minimising harm. In Gisborne, a kura principal appealed the licence granted to a new tavern located 30 metres away from the school.
Once a business gets a licence they have to keep it, a process that includes renewals. Rules are strict (don't serve anyone wasted or under 18) and someone with a manager's certificate has to be on duty whenever alcohol is being sold or consumed. A pub in Tauranga lost its liquor licence after repeated breaches, including serving someone underage. Some, like the infamous Edinburgh Castle, appear to have given up altogether.
Those that secure a licence are faced with promoting a relatively pricey, non-essential category of beverages with highly publicised health risks (and out-of-date guidelines) amidst shifting public perception and habits. Happy hour deals are a common format with a long history, offering cheap drinks and food, appealing to anyone who wants a bargain or had a bad day.
It's winter, everything feels awful, and people are looking to ingest mood-altering substances of one kind or another to take the edge off. But rather than visit the staunchly regulated neighbourhood bar, many are turning to the wild west of Facebook Marketplace.
A recent investigation by the Herald's Michael Morrah found 56 different listings for illegal drugs advertised on the platform (which requires only slightly more effort than chucking sneakers on the power lines). Want mushrooms? Go on Facebook Marketplace. Weed? Same answer. There's even apparently cocaine and ketamine to be found amidst the secondhand beds, dehumidifiers and pre-owned engagement rings.
Slinging controlled substances on there isn't without its risks. Meta may take your post down if someone complains or their moderators find it. If your side hustle is heroin, fentanyl or cocaine and they sniff it out, you're looking at the grim outcome of a disabled account. (Get caught selling Class-A drugs on the street and, according to sentencing guidelines, you'll likely be facing imprisonment if convicted.)
The ads the Herald investigated remained up until it flagged them with Meta, which removed them for violating its community standards. But, like blue meanies in an optimal growing environment, more had reportedly sprung up by the next day.
Entrepreneurial Kiwis who hate admin will find no complicated forms, flowcharts or even fees (unlike Trademe) when listing on Facebook Marketplace. Anyone with a Facebook account can simply click on Marketplace, hit 'sell' and 'create listing', chuck up a picture of that air fryer your mum gave you, decide on price, category and condition (description is optional) and hit publish.
The process would be the same for the mushrooms, gummies 'and more!' unearthed by the Herald. A not-stoked justice minister Paul Goldsmith declared the whole thing 'outrageous' and told Morrah he'd be asking the tech giant some 'tough questions', but acknowledged the 'global context' of regulating the platform, which isn't liable for third-party content.
Buying drugs online has seen a 'surge' in Aotearoa; the 2024 New Zealand Drug Trends Survey showed an increasing number of transactions were taking place on digital platforms like Facebook/Messenger and Snapchat. The marketing and commerce of controlled substances has been reshaped by digital convenience, much like entertainment, retail and hospitality.
How easy is it? I stumbled through the tumbleweed and cowboys of Facebook Marketplace and found plastic sandwich bags stuffed with dried mushrooms and carefully labelled as golden teachers (aka psilocybe cubensis) being sold in New Plymouth, with similar listings for Auckland. Booze is harder to find, but if it's 13 litres of ethyl alcohol you're after, there's some in Mt Eden. You might have to drive past some plaintive happy hour signs to get it though.
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The Spinoff
a day ago
- The Spinoff
Which is worse: advertising two-for-one drinks or selling Class A drugs on Facebook?
Or more pragmatically, which will land you in more trouble? Emma Gleason finds out. For The Golden Mile's bars battling through decline, revitalisation and those fearsome Courtenay Place gulls, getting punters in the door in the first place can be a hurdle. You're competing with every other watering hole in the neighbourhood, trendy green beverages, pigeon poo, and the grim fact that some people would rather stay home and watch TikToks. What's a proprietor to do? In the case of The Residence Bar, a blackboard chalked up with jaunty martini glasses and a two-for-one happy hour offer seemed to be a good idea – until it wasn't. Owner Jose Ubiaga scrubbed it off after an email from the Wellington City Council, but six months later, it landed him in front of the Alcohol Regulatory and Licensing Authority for the 'irresponsible promotion of alcohol'. The offer had breached the Sale and Supply of Alcohol Act 2012, which deems it an offence to promote a discount that 'leads people, or is likely to lead people, to believe that the price is 25% or more below the price at which the alcohol is ordinarily sold'. And because the sign could be seen outside the premises – also deemed 'irresponsible' by law – that was another no-no. The Authority decided on a 48-hour suspension and a negative holding for The Residence, while dismissing the complaint against Ubaiga's other business, The Dakota Bar, which promoted a similar deal on social media. These online platforms have their own codes of conduct, and if you were to advertise the sale of alcohol or, better yet, magic mushrooms on Facebook, you'd risk having your listing removed. Offline, the consequences of breaking the rules are a bit harsher. Ubiaga closed the bar for two days and reckons he lost thousands of dollars in potential earnings. While he accepted the mistake, he's been critical about the council's licensing policies in the past, calling them a contributing factor in the liquidation of his other bars, Rubix and SugarWoods, last year. He's not the only one; another Courtenay Place bar owner accused the council of 'ganging up' on the party precinct. Licensing standoffs in the country's cities and regions make regular headlines (news reports explain grievances and rebuttals, while dutifully pointing out the harm caused by alcohol in communities) as communities and agencies try to curtail the social impacts of getting on the piss. Selling booze is more complicated than a moustachioed mixologist's most inventive concoction. Bars, pubs and restaurants need an 'on-licence' licence. Getting one requires supporting documentation (including scale plans of the venue, menus, and host responsibility policies) and a fee, which ranges from three to four figures, depending on the business risk category and region. A sprawling Amohia Te Waiora flowchart outlines the complex process, including public notifications, consideration by District Licensing Committees and the Alcohol Regulatory and Licensing Authority, judgements and appeals and hearings. Some businesses have to wait months for approval. Others are flat-out declined. The Sale and Supply of Alcohol (Community Participation) Amendment Act 2023 now allows anyone, excluding trade competitors, to object to an application, and is geared at giving communities a voice and minimising harm. In Gisborne, a kura principal appealed the licence granted to a new tavern located 30 metres away from the school. Once a business gets a licence they have to keep it, a process that includes renewals. Rules are strict (don't serve anyone wasted or under 18) and someone with a manager's certificate has to be on duty whenever alcohol is being sold or consumed. A pub in Tauranga lost its liquor licence after repeated breaches, including serving someone underage. Some, like the infamous Edinburgh Castle, appear to have given up altogether. Those that secure a licence are faced with promoting a relatively pricey, non-essential category of beverages with highly publicised health risks (and out-of-date guidelines) amidst shifting public perception and habits. Happy hour deals are a common format with a long history, offering cheap drinks and food, appealing to anyone who wants a bargain or had a bad day. It's winter, everything feels awful, and people are looking to ingest mood-altering substances of one kind or another to take the edge off. But rather than visit the staunchly regulated neighbourhood bar, many are turning to the wild west of Facebook Marketplace. A recent investigation by the Herald's Michael Morrah found 56 different listings for illegal drugs advertised on the platform (which requires only slightly more effort than chucking sneakers on the power lines). Want mushrooms? Go on Facebook Marketplace. Weed? Same answer. There's even apparently cocaine and ketamine to be found amidst the secondhand beds, dehumidifiers and pre-owned engagement rings. Slinging controlled substances on there isn't without its risks. Meta may take your post down if someone complains or their moderators find it. If your side hustle is heroin, fentanyl or cocaine and they sniff it out, you're looking at the grim outcome of a disabled account. (Get caught selling Class-A drugs on the street and, according to sentencing guidelines, you'll likely be facing imprisonment if convicted.) The ads the Herald investigated remained up until it flagged them with Meta, which removed them for violating its community standards. But, like blue meanies in an optimal growing environment, more had reportedly sprung up by the next day. Entrepreneurial Kiwis who hate admin will find no complicated forms, flowcharts or even fees (unlike Trademe) when listing on Facebook Marketplace. Anyone with a Facebook account can simply click on Marketplace, hit 'sell' and 'create listing', chuck up a picture of that air fryer your mum gave you, decide on price, category and condition (description is optional) and hit publish. The process would be the same for the mushrooms, gummies 'and more!' unearthed by the Herald. A not-stoked justice minister Paul Goldsmith declared the whole thing 'outrageous' and told Morrah he'd be asking the tech giant some 'tough questions', but acknowledged the 'global context' of regulating the platform, which isn't liable for third-party content. Buying drugs online has seen a 'surge' in Aotearoa; the 2024 New Zealand Drug Trends Survey showed an increasing number of transactions were taking place on digital platforms like Facebook/Messenger and Snapchat. The marketing and commerce of controlled substances has been reshaped by digital convenience, much like entertainment, retail and hospitality. How easy is it? I stumbled through the tumbleweed and cowboys of Facebook Marketplace and found plastic sandwich bags stuffed with dried mushrooms and carefully labelled as golden teachers (aka psilocybe cubensis) being sold in New Plymouth, with similar listings for Auckland. Booze is harder to find, but if it's 13 litres of ethyl alcohol you're after, there's some in Mt Eden. You might have to drive past some plaintive happy hour signs to get it though.
The Spinoff
2 days ago
- The Spinoff
I can't stop thinking about the Christchurch kimono frenzy
10,000 kimonos… 10,000 unanswered questions. On Saturday morning at 9.57am, I joined a humming, 20-strong throng of Cantabrians champing at the bit for the City Mission op shop on Barbadoes Street to throw open their doors. 'It's like a Black Friday sale,' one woman mused, adjusting her empty tote bags in anticipation. 'Let us in, let us in,' another guy quietly chanted, raising an invisible pitchfork in jest. We were all united by one sweeping affliction that suddenly had Ōtautahi in a chokehold: kimono madness. It began with a Facebook post made by the Christchurch City Mission in the middle of an idle Tuesday afternoon. 'Life is full of surprises and topping our list this week is … thousands of kimonos,' the post reads. 'A generous donation of three packed truckloads of kimonos are coming to our Barbadoes Street op shop. Thousands! They are going out the door fast at $2 a pop, so this is your big chance if you have ever fancied owning/wearing one. Arigato!' Soon enough, the post had hundreds of comments and shares, with IRL queues forming out the door of both the Barbadoes Street and Sydenham City Mission stores. 'It's a kimono frenzy,' City Mission retail team leader Josie Cox told RNZ. 'We're selling them for $2 each and they've just gone mad. This morning there were probably 40 people waiting to come in.' The stock arrived by way of three trucks and two vans, and staff couldn't restock the bins fast enough. Any seasoned op shopper is always chasing the dream of stumbling across a rare or weird find, be it a war relic, a treasured timepiece, or even a purse containing a family mystery. But this opshop drop was on another scale of novelty and luxury entirely – 10,000 unique pieces, all in perfect condition, from a mysterious private donor. Where did they all come from? Why so, so, so many? Why central Christchurch? Why now? And, once again, why so, so, so many? I contacted a local kimono historian – who wished to stay anonymous but described themself as 'a detective analysing each and every kimono' – to see what they reckoned. 'A very unusual story,' they wrote, positing the collection may have recently come into the ownership of someone seeking 'a quick resolution.' As for the value, they estimated the total collection would have cost between $10,000-$30,000 to buy in Japan, and at least $5000 to import. Beyond the monetary value, they also explained the historical and cultural significance. 'Kimono were refined over the past 1000 years to the garment we see today,' they said, explaining how the garment is now mostly used as formal wear for the wealthy on special cultural occasions in Japan. 'No fashion designer has ever been able to improve it. The design is perfect,' they wrote, adding that each one is also completely unique: 'your kimono has no copies.' Karen Healey was one of the Cantabrians lucky enough to nab a couple of the peerless $2 pieces for herself from the Barbadoes Street op shop, after hearing about the donation from a fellow customer at The Fabric Store. 'The second you walked in, there were all these people clustered around these two big bins right at the front – anyone opening the door was hit with kimono,' she described. 'It was a brief little miracle… a dusty, noisy, magical experience.' While Healey says everyone was being 'very kind and considerate' when she visited, Anissa Trinder, aka vintage seller Spice Kotiro, told a different story. Trinder was there 'on a whim' as the multiple trucks arrived, and says that people 'immediately just started going crazy' for the kimonos. She picked up a kimono that she liked the look of, and another woman snatched it right out of her hands. 'I just thought, 'man, fuck this. I do not need a kimono that bad'.' Being a reseller herself, I asked Trinder about the $2 price point and the fact that several are already being resold on Facebook Marketplace for much more. 'The City Mission obviously just wanted to move them through, and they sold them all within the week, which is really beneficial for them,' she said. 'I think it's crazy that lots of them are on Marketplace, especially because it was such a public Christchurch phenomenon and everyone was talking about them.' Healey purchased three kimonos, one yukata and a haori. 'The fabric and the patterning is really what I'm after, so they will be reborn as garments that will be loved and treasured in a slightly different form,' she said. 'And it will make a good story – this shirt came from one of the kimono.' After snatch-gate, Trinder didn't buy anything. 'I am very specific with my style and the things that I sell,' she said. 'I'm also wary of cultural appropriation and all that stuff.' That's another interesting consideration to mull over – is it a risk to have this many kimonos unleashed in a place which still boasts an alarming number of white dreadlocks? While my mystery kimono historian maintained that anyone from 'DJs to traditional Japanese housewives' can now wear a kimono, opinions differ on the mainstream popularisation of the garment. (I also reached out to the Japanese Society of Canterbury for comment, but am yet to hear back). For those who were lucky enough to nab one (or, as Healey observed in one customer, one hundred) of these pieces, there's also delicate care concerns. The kimono expert recommended they are stored flat, ideally in kimono-friendly paper, in a drawer with silica gel and mothballs. As for washing? Go for a hand wash in cold water. 'Must be immersed in a bath to avoid bubbles,' they added. 'Wet area will transfer dye to any dry area, so bubbles are the enemy.' All of the above info would have been useful if, when the doors of the op shop swung open like a saloon on Saturday morning, there had been any of the elusive kimonos left. Alas, we were all about 48 hours too late. I poked about the rest of the store, nabbing a pristine $1 rubber chicken, as multiple bereft women with sharp grey bobs and statement glasses processed the news. 'The kimonos have all sold out, I'm so sorry,' the shopkeeper said gently. 'Now they are just a distant memory.'
NZ Herald
2 days ago
- NZ Herald
Dunedin bar's Christmas cheer brings a 48-hour booze ban
Such inducements are illegal under section 237 of the Sale and Supply of Alcohol Act 2012, which prohibits the irresponsible promotion of alcohol. In its written decision, the authority said: 'The posts contained promotions to be in to win a lawnmower (the November promotion) and a premium ham (the December promotion) with the purchase of specified types of alcohol in breach of s 237(1)(e) of the Act.' The authority noted that SPS Hospitality Group Ltd, which holds the licence for the premises, did not contest the police application for suspension. 'The respondent does not dispute the grounds of the application and it does not oppose the suspension of the on-licence,' the decision read. Inspector Ian Paulin, national manager of Alcohol Harm Prevention, said police filed that there had been an increase in breaches of this section being taken from around the motu to the ARLA following some informative case law from November 2023, where ARLA confirmed that promotions on social media or the internet were 'outside' the licensed premises. He clarified that Section 237 permits promotions inside the licensed premises. 'Promotions in this section mean discounting alcohol by more than 25%, or a 'buy alcohol and go into the draw for a prize' type of promotion,' he said. While the breach was treated seriously, the authority accepted it was a first offence and opted for a relatively light penalty. 'We consider that a 48-hour suspension is appropriate for a first offence by this licensee for this offence,' it said. The suspension will also be recorded as a 'negative holding' under the act. If the venue accrues three such holdings within a three-year period, it may face a licence cancellation hearing. 'This order is deemed to be a negative holding,' ARLA chairman Judge Robert Spear wrote. 'If the licence has not already been cancelled, three negative holdings incurred within a three-year period will result in an application to the authority for cancellation of the licence.' The decision was released on July 22 with the suspension to take effect in early September. Ben Tomsett is a multimedia journalist based in Dunedin. He joined the Herald in 2023.
