Coffee corner: How Levi became Murrumbeena’s not-so-hidden gem
It’s a weekday mid-morning at Levi in Murrumbeena, and the rhythm is already set. A tradie silently slips in and out, order already known and ready to go. A woman sits with a coffee and her German shepherd – every second person stopping to give it a pat on their way to the counter. There’s a steady hum of hellos, small talk and familiar faces. No rush or fuss in sight. Before long, co-owner Harry steps out from behind the counter for a chat, greeting us the same way he seems to greet everyone – like he’s got all the time in the world.
The (many) paths that led to Levi
Harry didn’t exactly follow a straight line into cafés.
‘I worked everywhere,’ Harry says. ‘Surf shop, abattoir, hardware store… I did it all.’
A business degree, a stint in recruitment, time overseas, then labouring and carpentry – it all added up to one realisation: the office life wasn’t it.
‘But I still had the business side burning in me.’
That spark turned into a food truck, then into his first café, Frank’s in Cheltenham – tucked away in a backstreet that didn’t exactly scream foot traffic.
‘We absolutely crushed it, though. We still do,’ Harry says. ‘It’s so busy there.’
But Levi came later – and it almost didn’t happen.
It was an old denim factory on the wrong side of the tracks (literally). The train line was down, and all the activity was on the other side of the road. On paper, there wasn’t much to love. And yet, Harry was intrigued.
‘I thought, I’d love to do it, but I need a partner.’
Then Lucas – a good friend and mentor to Harry as he found his way into cafés – walked into Frank’s.
‘I told him to check out the site. A couple of hours later, he texted me: let’s do it.’
Naming it, building it – and almost burning it down
Harry and Lucas were tossing up hundreds of different names when someone mentioned the building’s past life.
‘They said, “A denim factory? What was it? Levi’s?” And I was like, “No… but I like that name,”’ Harry remembers.
And so, Levi was born. Simple and uncomplicated. But getting to opening day was anything but.
‘We were supposed to open a few times before we did, but our permit kept getting denied over the smallest things,’ Harry recalls. ‘Leading up to opening day, we were working back-to-back 20-hour days to make it all work.’
By the end, Harry didn’t even want to look at Levi anymore. In fact:
‘I was ready to set this place on fire.’
By then, word had already spread about the new café in the old denim factory – so Harry was just about the only person feeling that way.
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When the locals made it theirs
Harry’s beef with Levi was, obviously, short-lived.
‘You watch the community genuinely engage with it, and you go, oh, we’ve actually built something people love,’ he says.
And they do.
There’s the group of older men that come in every week to banter with each other. There’s Diana, who pops in in the afternoons. There’s Rose, who comes in with her dog. There are the regulars who disappear for a year, and then come back like nothing’s changed.
‘That last group are the ones who end up saying they’ve been overseas for a year, and this was their first stop, now they’re back,’ Harry says.
And the first thing they’ll order?
‘Our chicken roll has got a real cult following,’ Harry shares. ‘It even got a feature in the Daily Mail UK!’
A place that fits around you
If there’s one thing Levi doesn’t try to do, it’s be the centre of attention.
‘Hospitality is about being hospitable, we’re simply there for our customer,’ Harry says. ‘It’s never about Levi. It’s about you catching up with your friend, or family member, or partner, or colleagues, or dog – whoever!
‘That’s why I always say to new staff who seem a bit nervous, it’s bacon and eggs in Murrumbeena. We’re not saving lives. Just be happy and be nice!’
And at Levi, that philosophy really shows.
‘It’s about us fitting into the lives of our customers,’ Harry concludes. ‘And we couldn’t be more grateful to be a part of it all.’
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