A place
to stay.

A regular gave Lou a hug goodbye. Bar Lou Lou had been open for about five weeks when we spoke, and she was already seeing some people for the fourth time.

She was delighted. Having customers to welcome back was one of the things she had loved about working in hospitality, and one of the reasons she wanted a place of her own.

Louise Marks had pictured a tiny wine bar: a few customers, some bottles she was excited about, time to talk. The room she opened on Barry Parade grew into something more expansive, with proper meals, secondhand finds and space for people to settle in. Those early regulars were giving her a first glimpse of the life she had hoped would fill it.

Before Barry Parade

It began with a few night shifts.

Lou spent around a decade in digital media. Her interest in doing something else built gradually. Meetings kept coming, motivation became harder to find, and the thought of a little wine bar stayed with her. For a long time, she assumed it would remain a pipe dream.

Then Zero Fox, her favourite Brisbane bar and restaurant, advertised for staff. She liked its approach to wine: pet-nats, chilled reds, bottles that felt like an invitation to try something unfamiliar. A few evening shifts seemed a useful way to learn.

For about six months, she worked both jobs. Eventually, she arranged a break from her corporate role, telling her employer she would return in six months. Once she was working full-time in hospitality, the decision became clear remarkably quickly. She wanted to stay.

Opening her own venue happened sooner than she expected. She had been watching commercial leases, and a walk through the Barry Parade space set her imagination going. She could see where things would go, how she would paint it, what the menu might look like. Afterwards, she could barely sleep for thinking about it.

She asked for help. The owners of Zero Fox supported her, and conversations with people in the industry helped her work through the practicalities. Then came the lease, the renovations and the opening. Looking back, that stretch still feels like a blur.

“I don't feel like a corporate worker anymore.”

Everything she likes, together

A room that feels like Lou.

Her old agency booked the bar for its first private event. Serving former colleagues had felt strange during her early days at Zero Fox. Here, behind her own bar, she felt comfortable. The change in her working life had begun to feel natural.

The room gives that change a physical shape. Lou describes it as "basically like the inside of my brain". She loves wine, flowers, plants and finding a new use for old things. Her wardrobe is thrifted; before opening the bar took over her spare time, she restored furniture too.

She says the furnishings are upcycled or secondhand. There is a small thrift shop out the back, giving guests another reason to wander beyond their table. It brings together interests she has had for years, now sharing an address.

Running the business has also shown her where her old skills still fit. Reviewing sales, data and performance feels familiar. Finding her way through small-business marketing on a small budget brings fresh questions. She is candid about still having things to learn.

The responsibility has changed too. She used to worry about keeping clients happy and the consequences for someone else's business. This work is equally challenging, she says, but its difficulties and rewards belong to her.

Something to eat, another reason to linger

Stay for dinner.

Lou wanted guests to be able to make a whole evening of the place. A few glasses and some snacks should not leave them needing to head further into the Valley to find dinner. Her answer is a menu of Asian-inspired food with a hearty, pub-like feel, offering share plates alongside proper mains.

Already, she was seeing office workers come across for lunch, teachers drop in after work and couples arrive for dinner. Keeping prices approachable matters to her because she wants people to feel able to return regularly.

Asked what she would point a couple towards, Lou picks the kimchi roti toastie: flaky roti with kimchi, caramelised onion and goat's cheese, served with potato crisps and a pickle. It comes cut into pieces for sharing, provided both people like kimchi.

For a beer and a filling meal, her suggestions at the time of our conversation were the chicken kebab or Japanese curry pie. The kebab arrives open on roti; she encourages people to fold it and eat it with their hands. Getting a little messy is part of the enjoyment.

At the bar

The wine starts a conversation.

Choosing a favourite wine proves difficult. The opening list was built from bottles Lou had enjoyed over the previous year, so she has plenty she wants people to try.

One example is a Grenache Blanc from Harrison in McLaren Vale. When guests asked for Sauvignon Blanc, Riesling or Pinot Gris, varieties she did not have on that list, she would suggest it. She loved seeing them enjoy something they might not otherwise have ordered.

That exchange is part of how she wants the bar to work. A changing list gives people a reason to ask questions. She is happy to offer a taste before they commit to a glass.

It comes back to the part of hospitality she enjoyed at Zero Fox: getting to know the people on the other side of the bar. Being able to say "welcome back" matters to her. Five weeks in, a hug from a regular felt like something worth celebrating.

Making a new life, a little at a time

The next small step.

For the first couple of weeks, Lou was usually too busy to take much of it in. Then one night after closing, she sat down. She walked around with a glass of wine, looking at the room she had brought together.

"I did this," she remembers thinking.

Asked about the future, she says the bar already looks close to what she imagined. Her thoughts turn to small touches: a snack before someone orders, a coaster they want to take home. At the time of our interview, she was exploring ideas for dessert, dog and martini menus, events and collaborations with local artists who work with upcycled materials.

For someone wondering whether to change careers, her advice is straightforward: "ease into it". Try a few shifts. Speak to people doing the work. Find out what the numbers need to look like. Her own decision involved planning, questions about margins and wages, and people generous enough to share what they knew.

Those first evening shifts gave her somewhere to begin. Now, on Barry Parade, she has a bar to open, guests to feed and familiar faces walking back through the door.