Word has spread quickly among Aucklanders about branches of the much-loved Japanese convenience store chain Lawson popping up around the city. But why are so many visitors walking out feeling so disappointed?
It’s near impossible to overstate the importance of the convenience store, or konbini, in Japan. Whether it’s FamilyMart, 7-Eleven or Lawson, konbini are one-stop shops that you’re never too far from. Known for their affordable and delicious food selections, indoor seating, cooking facilities and other services available 24/7, their literal convenience is a product of Japanese society and culture – ubiquitous in everyday life for locals and tourists alike.
For travellers, they leave a lasting impression. It’s hard to comprehend the logistics that allow for this eternally available, fresh and tasty food.
Though originally a brand from Ohio, Lawson is now most closely associated with Japan – where there are 13,992 stores. And it has a particular kind of fanfare around it. The Spinoff’s Sam Brooks says, “Lawson is so huge in Japan that in video games you can dress your characters up in Lawson colours.”
Anthony Bourdain was a fan of the Lawson egg salad sandwich, describing it in true Bourdain fashion as “unnatural, inexplicable deliciousness”. Items like the premium roll cake, onigiri and fried chicken have achieved cult status.
So, when Lawson shops started popping up around Auckland, it’s no surprise that those familiar with the Japanese stores were excited. Word spread quickly among those with a passion for konbini culture.
However, many left disappointed, finding the experience far removed from their treasured memories of the Japanese branches.
Creative freelancer Nahyeon Lee fondly remembers visits to konbini on a holiday to Japan. Drawn in by the familiar name, wild west-type font and blue-and-red colour scheme, she visited the Victoria Street Lawson store in downtown Auckland soon after it opened, with plenty of anticipation.
That visit to the Auckland outlet was “hugely disappointing” though.
“Superficially it looked really similar, inside it just wasn’t good,” she says, reflecting on the disappointing bread twist she tried and a sad-looking burger she spotted on the counter. She remembers being surprised by the cabinet of bongs in the store. “In Japan that would be transgressive, here it’s just confusing.”
At the Dominion Road Lawson branch (Photo: Charlotte Muru-Lanning)
While the branding at the four Auckland Lawson stores clearly attempts to mimic that of the overseas brand, on closer inspection there are some distinct differences between the stores overseas and those here.
The New Zealand companies register lists Lawson Convenience Store as being registered to Welcia Corporation Limited on November 19, 2019. The registered office is listed at Suite 2, 652 Great South Road, Manukau, far from the Tokyo headquarters of the original company.
A quick scan of Lawson’s official Japanese website shows a list of countries and regions with Lawson stores; Japan, China, Indonesia, Hawaii, Thailand and the Philippines. There’s no mention of a New Zealand outlet.
Knowing now that these local iterations are ersatz versions of what she fondly remembered from her trip, Lee feels the company is “preying on memories”.
Consumer NZ CEO Jon Duffy believes this type of imitation could be detrimental at a competitive business level to other retailers, and to consumers who are enticed into the store by the reputation of the highly regarded Japanese brand.
“There is concern if consumers are visiting the shop assuming it’s one thing but it’s actually another,” he says.
To Duffy, there’s a good argument that these Lawson stores are misleading consumers by being an imposter brand.
Left, a Lawson store in Japan; right, a Lawson convenience store on Victoria Street (Photos: Yuya Tamai licensed with CC BY 2.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/); Charlotte Muru-Lanning)
Alex Simms, associate professor in the department of commercial law at the University of Auckland Business School, describes the local stores as “a blatant rip-off”.
She’s not the only one who thinks so. On Google reviews, one customer of the Victoria Street outlet claims to have contacted Lawson in Japan who “mentioned their intention of further legal action”.
Simms explains that while the Japanese-based Lawson company isn’t registered in New Zealand, it still has legal standing if it can prove people were misled into assuming an association between the two, as it potentially infringes the Fair Trade Act. “You can’t stop someone else from using the colour blue, but there’s no way this is coincidental, this is cut and dry,” she says.
A local brand copying such a large overseas corporate is a high-risk strategy, and it wouldn’t be the first copycat convenience store to end up in the courts. In 2016, 7-eleven sued knock-off versions of the store that had opened in Brooklyn, New York.
In New Zealand, Simms says it’s possible the Commerce Commission could bring an action, but it’s unlikely it would.
If the original Lawson company doesn’t take action quickly enough, Simms believes it could potentially lose protection – similar to what happened in Australia with Burger King and Hungry Jacks. A Lawson Convenience Store trademark has already been registered by the counterfeit brand in New Zealand, and another for Lawson Station (another direct copy of the Japanese brand) is currently pending.
Fried chicken at the Dominion Road branch and fruit sando at the Victoria Street branch. (Photos: Charlotte Muru-Lanning)
Graphic designer Lindsay Yee is a fan of convenience stores in Japan, and has visited three of the Auckland Lawson stores so far; Chancery, Dominion Road and Victoria Street.
“Initially you think it will be like the Japanese experience, but it’s definitely not the same,” he says. The Auckland Lawson stores instead remind him of the convenience stores he visited in China, Hong Kong and Taiwan.
While Yee would have preferred the local company had created its own brand rather than imitating the famous Japanese company, he appreciates having the option to eat and sit down somewhere 24/7. “I’m still excited for it to be a thing.”
As for The Spinoff’s Sam Brooks, he had found comfort in Lawson convenience stores in Japan so was “delighted” when the Victoria Street outlet opened. “It looked and felt just like a Lawson’s,” he says.
He had no inkling it wasn’t the real thing until someone told him. “It didn’t occur to me that someone would try to knock off such a recognisable brand,” he says.
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“On the surface, it all looks the same, but when you go there in the harsh light of day, it’s like a bad cover of a song you really love. The bones might be there, but none of the notes are right.”
This week, Sam Brooks attempted something he’d been pitching The Spinoff for months: he’d spend 24 hours in a Denny’s and write about what happened. Unfortunately, Denny’s had other ideas.
A writing stunt speaks to the only two things I think I’m good at. One is writing, by which I mean the physical act of turning thoughts into words, regardless of the quality of those words (as my editors, friends and audiences will attest). The other is pushing myself beyond my personal place of comfort. I want to see what being uncomfortable does to my brain, how it changes me up, and ideally improves me.
So in the interest of marrying these two things, I pitched the idea of staying at a Denny’s for 24 hours to my editors.
This is the tale of me trying to do that and being cut off at the knees. Because I didn’t stay the full 24. Here is the story of what it’s like to spend 10 hours at Denny’s. Fourteen fewer hours than I wanted, and eight more hours than Denny’s would’ve liked me to spend there.
Our intrepid reporter arrives.
9:00am: I arrive at the Denny’s in Hobson Street, downtown Auckland.
I have picked my outfit appropriately for the mission at hand. I don’t want to appear too conspicuous, but don’t want to be so dressed down that I look like I’m taking refuge. Considering that my wardrobe ranges between “Richie Richie but gay” and “suspicious widow”, this is a challenge. I settle on a pair of espadrilles, a linty green jumper, blue jeans and a woollen coat.
On the door are several signs, including a QR code that I dutifully scan. There are security camera photos of a few people who have decided to dine and dash, with the word “SHAME” written underneath them.
When I open the door, I’m hit by a smell that is recognisably, quintessentially Denny’s: a unique mixture of cooking oil and cleaning product. I want to turn back immediately.
Instead I hear myself saying, “Table for one, please.”
I think immediately about fronting up about my endeavour to the server, but I don’t. I get the feeling that I’m coming at the tail end of a boring shift. I will make my true alliances at the next shift. So I come at the pitch diagonally: “Are there any powerpoints? I’d like to work here for some time.” She points out two. I pick the one closest to the kitchen, which involves moving some baby chairs out of the way.
I settle into what will be my home for (hopefully) the next 24 hours.
9:05am: I order an item that I’ve been recommended several times: The budget breakfast. Two hash browns, two eggs, two pieces of toast. All for $8.00, which is inarguably good value. Alongside that I get a flat white and a glass of Coke.
Breakfast, by Denny’s.
9:11am: My order comes surprisingly quickly. The eggs, scrambled, are under-salted. I immediately salt, and assault, them. The hashbrowns, which a Denny’s regular has informed me have recently changed (they no longer import them from the US, apparently), are fine. The wholegrain toast, which I barely touch, is also fine.
The flat white is a coffee. The Coke is made with syrup.
The Hobson Street Denny’s.
9:16am: From where I’m sitting I can hear but not see the TV, which is tuned to TVNZ1. I hear Wanda Sykes’ voice, and I’m delighted to find out that she now has her own talkshow. (She doesn’t. She’s merely taking over Ellen’s role on The Ellen Show.)
9:47am: I still have not finished my meal, which is now cold. I’m a famously slow eater, who can turn the process of eating a bap into a half-day activity. I resolve to order food that does not need to be eaten at the temperature it’s served at.
10:00am: Wanda Sykes departs TVNZ1, and Tipping Point starts. It appears to be some form of televised British torture/game show with incomprehensible rules.
10:30am: The ice in my Coke has melted, the milk has done whatever undrunk milk does to a coffee. I have not eaten all my breakfast, but what I have eaten rests heavily in my stomach.
11:00am: The Chase starts. I can hear but not see it and learn that the reason why The Chase is not also a podcast is because it’s a very visual experience.
11:02am: I message my beloved colleague Alex Braae and ask if he is sure he wouldn’t want to write tomorrow’s Bulletin from a Hobson Street Denny’s:
11:15am: I order the “passion fruit cheesecake”, because I feel like that’s a dish that could comfortably sit there for at least 45 minutes without substantially changing in taste or consistency.
11:22am: I am wrong.
A “passion fruit cheesecake”, according to Denny’s.
The cheesecake comes, as every dessert on the Denny’s menu does, with a side of ice cream which most certainly will not keep its icy consistency for anywhere close to my 45 allotted minutes. Some amount of whipped cream and a glacé cherry fills out the plate.
Looking at it, I now understand what my editor means when she says, “This copy could be cleaner.”
11:25am: I watch the ice cream melt, and shove a few spoonfuls into my mouth. This cheesecake is one of the worst things I’ve spent $8.50 on. The consistency is like cream cheese that has been put in the freezer, and the glaze has no discernible taste except for the streaks of white chocolate icing on top of it.
12:01pm: The Chase is over. 1 News at Midday, hosted by Chris Chang, rings out across the restaurant. I stare at the building Chris Chang is broadcasting from, because it is across the road from my seat. I wish him well as I continue to slice bits of my “passion fruit cheesecake” which could not be further away from those three words if it tried.
Sizzling Surf ‘n Turf.
12:06pm: I consider what my future lunch will be. The most expensive item on the menu is the Sizzling Surf ‘n’ Turf. The description for this one reads: “350 gram T-Bone steak (pre-cooked weight) with prawns, asparagus & seasoned potato cubes. Served on a hot plate.”
It is $36. I will not be ordering it.
The cheapest item on the menu? A ramekin of sauce for $1.50. Sauces include aioli, ranch, hollandaise, BBQ and brown gravy. Sauce can also be purchased in “monkey bowls” for $3.00. I have never heard of either of these vessels.
12:11pm: A man with a Topp Twin haircut sits on the other side of the restaurant. He orders water. It has not occurred to me over the past three hours that I could order water at Denny’s. I am maybe not the picture of health.
12:53pm: People start finding places at tables. I count more than five, less than 15. This is maybe not quite a lunch rush but a lunch stroll.
1:03pm: The staff change the TV station to one that plays music. The first song is that Olivia Rodrigo song that sounds like Paramore. No, the other one.
1:05pm: I order onion rings. It’s super hard to mess up onion rings, and I’ve never hated an overcooked onion ring.
Onion rings, by Denny’s.
1:15pm: My onion rings arrive, with a small pottle of sweet chilli sauce (my favourite condiment) and a sprig of parsley that seems to come with every non-breakfast item on the menu. I tear into the first one, and dip the remainder into the sweet chilli. They’re delightfully crispy, with the exact right amount of salt. No assault will happen here.
1:38pm: I finish the onion rings, the only meal I have completed since my arrival. ‘Closer’ by The Chainsmokers (feat. Halsey) plays.
1:40pm: The waiter comes and picks up my dish. I think now they’re starting to get suspicious. I have been here for nearly five hours. Nineteen more hours lay ahead of me.
1:53pm: I peruse the menu, not for the first time and definitely not for the last time. I notice that the sky-comma in Denny’s is a kiwi! Cute.
I peruse the menu again, looking for treats.
The dish I am most looking forward to is Sweet Chilli Cauliflower. The description reads thusly: “Packed with flavour, deep fried cauliflower bites tossed with sweet chilli sauce and served with sour cream.”
Milestones?
2:03pm: I read the wall behind me, carefully because I have many hours in which to do it. It lists various milestones in the history of Denny’s.
The history of the restaurant is actually a super interesting one: Harold Butler and partner Richard Jezak opened “Danny’s Donuts” in Southern California in the 1950s. What started out as just a donut shop turned into being a donut store that also sold hamburgers, after Butler bought a grill. As the car culture grew and more people started using the freeway, Butler kept his restaurant open for 24 hours a day.
Butler changed the name from Danny’s to Denny’s, and by the late 60s, over 500 restaurants were open across the United States. They now operate over 1700 restaurants worldwide, seven of which are in New Zealand. (Auckland has five of these, with only two being permanently 24 hours a day, while the other two are in Porirua and Christchurch.)
The last five years of achievements on the wall read grimly. 2012? Roast dinners, introduced. 2013? A Hobbit menu, which spread around the world. 2014? Pizza! 2015 is the last achievement on the wall, celebrating the franchise’s 25th year in New Zealand.
2:44pm: A server kindly informs me that I can just order the coffee refill – rather than multiple long blacks. Having had three coffees, I take him up on this kind offer. Have I made an ally?
3:02pm: I have now had five coffees. I may have made an external ally, but I am Judas to myself.
3:15pm: I find it interesting to note that, despite pancakes being the most famous part of the Denny’s menu, even being the cover model dish on the menu, there are only six menu items that include pancakes: Grand Slam, Senior Slam (same as Grand Slam but for old people), Junior Grand Slam (vice versa), Bacon Banana Pancakes, Pancake Stack and Pancake a la Mode.
I look forward to having one of these items before I leave at 9am.
3:30pm: The same Olivia Rodrigo song plays. It’s pretty good!
The civilised part of the drinks menu.
3:37pm: I turn my attention to the drinks menu. I think I’ll have a glass of sparkling wine, with dinner, as a treat.
The wine list at Denny’s is surprisingly robust, as is the beer list. However, where the drinks list gets squint-worthy is the cocktail section. By which I mean: the Boozy Milk shake [sic] section. It consists of three items: Chocolate Bourbon Milk shake [sic], Oreo Bourbon Milk shake [sic], Lime Bourbon Milk shake [disgusting].
I resolve to order one of these before they stop selling alcohol, as a punishment.
3:46pm: I have not seen a member of staff in 20 minutes. I am cold. Perhaps these things are related. Perhaps they have abandoned the store to me. I am the Phantom of Denny’s.
4:23pm: The same Olivia Rodrigo song plays for a third time.
Garlice bread, surprisingly good, by Denny’s.
4:35pm: I order the garlic bread, and another Coke. I decide to lay off the coffee for the time being, having now had close to eight in as many hours.
4:42pm: The garlic bread arrives. It’s genuinely delightful! Crispy where it should be crispy, butter soaking all the way through to the soft outside.
4:55pm: I have eaten two large pieces of garlic bread very quickly and now I feel ill.
5:00pm: I am a third of the way through my projected stay here. I realise I’ve spent all but maybe five minutes of the past eight hours sitting down.
5:24pm: A family enters. I narrow my eyes: one of these children will get to eat for free, under the Denny’s bylaws. (An adult can eat free on their birthday with one full paying adult, kids under 10 eat free with a full paying adult from Monday to Wednesday, seniors get a two-for-one deal on Tuesday in Christchurch.)
5:34pm: In my entire eight and a half hours, I’ve seen maybe 35 people total. I wonder how this place stays in business.
5:50pm: A friend arrives for a pre-show meal. I am very happy!
Her order is more “Denny’s” and therefore better than anything I’ve ordered thus far, similar versions of which could be purchased at any number of places. She orders a veggie burger with an upgrade to curly fries (our server finds this more delightful than any server all day has found anything I have to say), a no-sugar Coke and a sundae.
We gossip.
6:00pm: The veggie burger arrives. My friend seems to enjoy it. At one point while eating it, she pulls out an onion slice that is more substantial than anything that was inside my six onion rings. She ascertains, correctly, that her burger patty was probably dropped in oil. She doesn’t particularly enjoy it, but she finishes, making it the day’s most satisfying meal so far.
We continue to gossip. The restaurant slowly starts to fill out.
6:30pm: My friend leaves, and I return to my planning and perusing. Another friend is due in a couple of hours. He’s excited to order the budget breakfast with a pancake stack. I’m excited to have company, frankly.
6:47pm: I’m not usually one to quote Anne Carson, because I’m not a total wanker, but this quote feels apt for the situation: “Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.”
It is here that my journey comes to a premature end.
A manager, who has recently descended onto the floor, comes over and asks me to leave. I have been there too long (completely right by normal standards, deeply wrong by my own). She says I’ve been there since 8.30. I correct her and say that I have actually been there since 9:00. That half hour less does not endear me to her. I explain that I’ll keep ordering and gesture to the uncleared plates around me, some of which have been there for several hours.
No dice.
I explain that I can leave my card and my ID (learner’s licence, expired) with them. I will absolutely pay out my tab, a grand total of $60.70. She explains that people aren’t allowed to stay longer than two hours.
No dice.
I explain that I’m writing a story for probably the only website that will let their journalists do something like this (I leave that second part out). She points out that people aren’t allowed to use the powerpoints with a tone that says, not unfairly, you’re lucky to have been here this long.
No dice.
I am to leave the diner, my mission unfulfilled. I pack up my stuff sadly. I walk past families enjoying their sizzling plates, soda syrup and curly fries. I go up to the counter and pay. A worker, the same one who was delighted when my friend upgraded, says, “You’ve been here a long time.”
Not nearly long enough. I didn’t even get to have dinner.
One dinnerless but still very carb-full man.
In a way, I achieved what I set out to do: I typed many, many words I wouldn’t have written sitting at my desk. I sat in a restaurant I don’t especially love for nearly 10 hours. It’s changed my brain a bit: Now I know I can do this, a thing nobody but me asked for. And while I love a stunt, I don’t love them enough to make a hospo worker’s shift harder or weirder than it needs to be.
Like most stunts, though, it’s hard to know who this one is for: the audience, who sit, watch and clap? Or is it for the stuntman, who gets to be applauded for doing something nobody else wants to do?
