Coffee Apocalypse: The $10 + Coffee Cometh, and Their Wallets Weep! By Tom North
Ah, the morning ritual. That sacred dance where bleary-eyed city dwellers, resembling a herd of caffeine-deprived zombies, shuffle towards the nearest glowing beacon of hope: the coffee shop. The air hums with the promise of that first glorious sip, a liquid catalyst transforming grunts into greetings and stumbles into strides. But a dark, bitter cloud is gathering on the horizon, folks, and its name is not "decaf." It's the Coffee Apocalypse, and it's brewing faster than a single-origin pour-over.
For years, we've lived in a golden age of accessible ambition, where a mere five-dollar bill (or six, or seven, if you were feeling fancy) could procure you a steaming cup of go-go juice. But recent whispers, backed by actual economic data louder than a barista's steam wand, suggest those days are frothily fading. The Macrobusiness.com.au article, a harbinger of bitter truth, warns of $7 coffees becoming the norm in 2026. Seven dollars! I scoffed, adjusting my imaginary monocle. "Some places are already there!" I declared, picturing my last regrettable transaction for an "artisanal" flat white that cost more than my lunch.
And now, a chilling premonition: $10 or more by 2027, or sooner!
Think about that for a moment. Ten. Dollars. For a cup of coffee. That's not just a beverage; that's a small investment. That's two loaves of artisanal sourdough, or half a Netflix subscription, or a very, very tiny portion of your weekly avocado toast budget.
Imagine the scene:
A brisk Monday morning. You approach the counter, your usual order on your lips. "Large latte, please." "That'll be ten dollars," the barista replies, their smile unwavering, possibly because they're paid in coffee beans. Your jaw unhinges slightly. "Ten? Did… did you gold-plate the beans?" "Organic, fair-trade, hand-massaged by monks, and delivered by doves, sir. With a hint of inflation."
We're not just buying coffee anymore; we're buying a momentary reprieve from the crushing realities of modern economics. Each sip will be savoured, not for its complex notes of caramel and hazelnut, but for the sheer audacity of its price tag. We'll find ourselves doing mental arithmetic: "Is this flat white really worth 15 minutes of my work day?" The answer, increasingly, will be a despondent shrug.
This isn't just about the price, it's about the cultural shift. Our daily grind, both literally and figuratively, has been punctuated by that essential coffee run. It's a social lubricant, a meeting point, a solitary moment of contemplation before the email onslaught. What happens when that ritual becomes a luxury reserved for the truly affluent, or those willing to sacrifice a limb (or a meal) for their caffeine fix?
We'll see new archetypes emerge:
The Home Brewer Hero: Armed with an arsenal of beans, grinders, and possibly a chemistry set, they'll scoff at the cafe prices from the sanctity of their kitchen. Their coffee will taste vaguely of victory and regret.
The Sneaky Flask Faction: Discretely sipping from thermos flasks under their desks, eyes darting nervously for the boss. Their coffee will be lukewarm, but their defiance, ice-cold.
The "I'm Just Here for the Wi-Fi" Warriors: Nursing a single, small water, they will occupy prime real estate for hours, a silent protest against the escalating liquid gold.
The Coffee Apocalypse is upon us, and while I may not now partake in the "poison," I fear for the sanity of those who do. Because soon, your morning shot won't just wake you up; it'll deliver a sharp, sobering jolt to your bank account! It is the world of inflation at a personal level.
https://www.macrobusiness.com.au/2026/01/7-coffees-are-the-tipping-point-for-28000-cafes/
