How do you connect an all-terrain stroller with Double Vision Brewing’s Expatriate American Pale Ale? Well… it’s not exactly written in the Phil & Teds instruction manual, but the answer involves four workmates: Mario, Warren, Evarn and Harry — proof that sometimes great beer starts in places you least expect, like a stroller company’s lunchroom, somewhere between a product recall meeting and someone heating leftover butter chicken.
If your kids are now old enough to eat everything in your fridge, you will remember Phil & Teds. And if your kids are still in the “why are you awake again” stage, you know Phil & Teds. Back in 2013, these four were working there — designing strollers by day and, as it turns out, plotting a slow but determined escape into beer. As you do.
What began as innocent chats about bike cogs and tracks gradually drifted into hops and fermentation. A shared love of mountain biking sealed the deal — because nothing bonds people like hurtling down a hill together and then deciding to make beer afterwards. There was no master plan, just mates, malt, and the vague idea that one day this could become something bigger than a hobby. The kind of thinking that has launched many a brewery.
Karl Hayes (then co-owner of Te-Aro Brewing and Brewtopia) gave them the magic words: “You can get the right gear for two grand.” So, the three production/design lads hit up Warren to come join with $500 each. He said yes. They said yes. And suddenly four were financially committed to a hobby that would soon take over their lives, their garages, and most of their evenings. A slippery slope familiar to anyone who’s ever said, “I’ll just get a basic homebrew kit.”
Their first brewery was a garage in a friend’s Hataitai flat — the spiritual birthplace of Double Vision and, arguably, the most productive garage in Wellington that did not contain a band. In the first 18 months, they brewed more than 100 recipes, knocking out two batches a week. When Mario moved flats, the brew kit moved too — with one non-negotiable: must have a double garage. Priorities. You can live without a dining room, but you cannot live without space for a mash tun.
To keep standards high, they invented a savage rule: if a batch was bad, everyone had to drink a sample. Nothing motivates quality control like the threat of your own terrible beer. Every brewer has a story about a batch that tasted like wet cardboard or a Band-Aid factory — these guys just made sure they all suffered equally.
They also made an early commitment: brew every style. No exceptions. No comfort zones. Just four part-timers brewing their way across the beer universe like a slightly underfunded, hop-obsessed Star Trek crew.
The lads also spent many nights roaming Wellington streets, raiding recycling bins for 500ml bottles. They also knocked on pub doors asking for empty 750ml swap-a-crate bottles — with The Realm pub in Hataitai becoming a particularly generous supplier. Nothing says “future award-winning brewery” like four blokes politely rummaging through your bins at 10pm.
Naming the brewery was its own adventure. “Part Timers” was floated, then quickly binned for sounding like a social indoor netball team. Inspiration finally came from the double garage doors — and maybe a cheeky nod to what happens when you enjoy your own product. Jane, Evarn’s partner, coined the name Double Vision.
As demand grew, the guys started supplying every 30th birthday they could find. Then came the big step: each of them committed 20% of their pay to the venture. That is when you know you are serious — when you are willing to part with 1/5th your income for the privilege of cleaning fermenters and arguing about water chemistry.
Contract brewing at Massey University in Palmerston North followed — long days, long drives, and seven-hour brew sessions. Their 50L fermenter and 100L kit suddenly became 200L batches. Real volume. Real momentum. Real tiredness. And the realisation that brewing professionally is 10% creativity and 90% cleaning.
Double Vision Brewing officially launched with Expatriate APA and Red Rascal Red IPA — bold choices at a time when the market wasn’t exactly APA-focused. But as Warren puts it, “We spend our waking hours taking a second look at what defines a traditional style — then we give the boundaries a nudge.”
Their launch party at the now-closed Hop Garden nearly imploded when the kegs arrived over-foamed. Thankfully, Fork & Brewer’s Dion Page saved the day with a de-gassing trick — drop the kegs on the concrete floor! Some beer was lost, but the night — and the brewery — was saved. Every brewery has a near-disaster story; this one just happened to involve a room full of thirsty Wellington craft beer junkies armed with both knowledge and anticipation. A dangerous combination.
Roles naturally formed: Mario the engineer turned brewer; Harry from product design to illustrator and eventually tap room; Warren on graphics, branding, marketing and on-premise sales; and Evarn on furniture/joinery design, off-prem sales and distribution. Design became a cornerstone. As Warren likes to say, “We sell the first beer. Mario sells the second.” If you have ever stood in front of a supermarket beer wall paralysed by choice, you know exactly what he means. Awards followed. Deservedly.
By 2017, it was time to take control of their destiny. Wellington had plenty of brewbars and taprooms, but Miramar Peninsula was a glaring gap — a craft-beer desert waiting for an oasis. They found a site in early 2018 and, with the help of mates (sparkies, plumbers, builders… and Mario’s welding skills), built a taproom and brewery in the Miramar Industrial Park. It is a recycler’s paradise — the bar from made Chinese fermentor cradles, chairs from pallets, and a roof scrubbed clean of its former pigeon tenants. Nothing says “craft beer taproom” like a raw, eclectic industrial setting with just a hint of “we did this ourselves.”
In mid-2025, they opened the Dub Hub in Island Bay. Opening night was July 4, so naturally Expatriate APA was the star of the show. Both venues hum along nicely. As Mario says, “We need to win the locals, be a hub, make beer accessible, and have a beer for everyone.” It is the kind of philosophy that turns a taproom into a community lounge… with better lighting and more hops.
Which brings me to my dilemma. Officially, Double Vision Brewing was incorporated on June 27, 2016, making this their 10-year anniversary. But every home brewer knows the truth: the real story started three years earlier in that Hataitai garage. So yes — they are celebrating 10 years. But really, they are celebrating 13 years of mateship, graft, innovation, great beer, and community.
As Mario puts it best: “At DVB we simply aspire to be your very own home brewery — creating the kind of damn fine beer that delivers mouth parties at your place.”
And honestly, that is exactly what they have done.
Follow Brendan Holland’s journey to visit every brewery in New Zealand.