“Since when did we start normalising paying ten dollars for a drink?” my friend asks.

It’s a breezy Sunday morning, and we’re basking in the sun on the veranda of a brunch café when her question catches me off guard.

I look down at my iced latte – $6.50 I remembered, before I glance around.

Nearly every table has the same cup of green – matcha latte.

It isn’t until the waitress greets us with a cheerful “How are ya?” that I remember we are in Sydney, not Japan.

The matcha craze has quietly slipped into the daily life of many young Australians.

Matcha, a finely milled green tea powder made from shade-grown tencha leaves, is produced by steaming, drying, and stone-grinding the leaves into a fine, vibrant powder. It was first introduced to Japan in the 12th century by Zen Buddhist monks, used to enhance focus and mindfulness in meditation. Since then, it has become an exclusive product in tea ceremonies.

Matcha rose to global popularity in the early 2010s, appearing on café menus in cities like New York and London and celebrated for its versatility in drinks and desserts. Fuelled by wellness culture, social media aesthetics and celebrity endorsements from figures like Gwyneth Paltrow and Kylie Jenner, matcha quickly became a global trend. Rich in antioxidants and L-theanine, its luminous jade hue continues to captivate cafegoers and the health conscious, transforming a once-exclusive tea ritual into an everyday pleasure.

Qualitea, a whimsical tea shop in Sydney’s upmarket Strand Arcade, is lined with shelves that brim with handcrafted Japanese teacups, bamboo whisks, chawans (matcha bowls) and premium teas from around the world.

Tony Kwok, the owner of Qualitea, says interest in matcha has surged over the past six months.

“Before that, maybe people asked for it once a week. Now, people ask for matcha every day,” Kwok says.

“It’s because the media has been talking about matcha, from YouTube to TikTok and people see a lot of cafés that make matcha lattes.”

On Instagram, the hashtag #matcha has surpassed 9.6 million posts (as of October 8, 2025), while MatchaTok, a subculture dedicated to matcha content, has reached 233.8K posts.

Videos on those platforms romanticise the matcha-making ritual: The verdant powder whisked into a fine froth, seeping slowly into the milk as it’s poured, the colours melding into a pale, delicate green. Tins and bamboo whisks have become must-have souvenirs from Japan, lined across kitchen counters around the world like trophies of cultivated taste.

Keira Hanjaya is an international third-year undergraduate and recent coffee-drinker-converted matcha addict.

Entering her house, the aroma of coffee is gone; the espresso machine stands silent.

“I used to be a total coffee drinker,” she says.

“But then everyone around me, my friends, started getting matcha.

“At first, I thought it tasted grassy and bitter. But over time, I grew to like the bitterness.”

Hanjaya pours oat milk into her chawan before sifting in a spoonful of matcha powder, her bamboo whisk swishing rhythmically.

“It’s the cold-whisking method,” she says, referring to a trendy method circulating on social media where milk is poured and mixed directly with the powder instead of hot water.

Hanjaya says she drinks up to three matcha lattes a day. She uses ceremonial-grade powder and has around six or seven packets of matcha powers in her pantry at any time.

She invites me to join her on her first trip to OMI Café, a minimalist, sunlit matcha hangout in Chatswood, reminiscent of modern Japanese cake boutiques.

“I’ve been wanting to try this place because their matcha was viral,” she says.

Matcha is served: a creamy latte topped with a mochi skewer, and a strawberry matcha layered with bright red jam – each priced from ten to twelve dollars.

Hanjaya admits she finds the prices unreasonable but still buys from viral cafés recommended by friends even when a single drink costs $10.

Phones hover above the table as Hanjaya and her friend captu

re their drinks from every angle before turning the camera on themselves for a round of selfies with their matcha in hand.

“In matcha hangouts, we take lots of cute pictures and post them on Instagram,” she says.

“It’s really nice to have a spread of green drinks because it just looks really aesthetic and bright.”

Between sips, Hanjaya and her friend scroll through a feed awash with green, their conversation drifting to the latest matcha drinks they’ve tried, from ‘matcha Thai tea’ to new matcha powder brands they are testing.

The hangout ends with plans to try a new café serving ‘matcha tiramisu’.

Hanjaya describes matcha not just as a drink but as a “social ritual”.

“Lots of people come together to try new matcha cafés or products,” she says.

“I can connect with my friends better because they are all raving about matcha.

“We have more reasons to meet and more things to talk about than before.”

“Living the trend” makes her feel up-to-date and fosters a “sense of belonging” both online and in her social circle, she says.

Asked whether she would still drink matcha if it wasn’t trending, she pauses.

“I don’t think I would feel okay if everyone around me is drinking matcha and I’m not. It would make me feel very left out,” she says thoughtfully.

While Hanjaya sees the trend as a way to connect and belong, not everyone sees it through the same glossy filter.

At the University of Sydney Tea Society’s outdoor tea-appreciation event, Scott Tsai, the treasurer, is whisking up some matcha.

For him, the rise of matcha online has been bittersweet.

“It’s good that it’s sort of promoting what matcha is but it’s also been sidetracked and abused,” he says.

“People don’t really like the tea itself, they are drinking it because it makes you look cooler.”

In the Tea Society, he has seen newcomers arrive eager to try the ‘real’ version of the drink, expecting the sweet, milky matcha from social media but often put off by its strong, grassy bitterness.

“People come really excited because they’ve seen those photogenic clips of the foam forming in the bowl,” he says.

“But when they actually have the tea, you’ll see people who were excited at first suddenly stop talking about matcha.”

Tsai doesn’t believe there’s a ‘single right way’ to drink matcha but underlines the real problem of “blindly chasing for expensive kinds”.

He says that because matcha production is seasonal and limited, global demand has outpaced supply, leading to shortages even in Japan.

Over the past year, extreme weather has damaged crops across Kyoto and Nishio – Japan’s leading matcha-producing regions. National tencha harvests fell by nearly 40 per cent.

In Uji, the heart of Kyoto’s tea country, output dropped from about 10,216 kilograms in 2024 to just over 6,140 in 2025. In Kyoto, which produces roughly a quarter of Japan’s tencha, some farmers saw yields decline by about 25 per cent due to heatwaves and erratic rainfall.

Meanwhile, global demand has skyrocketed. Overseas orders have doubled in the past year, with some Japanese producers reporting requests up by as much as 800 per cent.

“This really causes a problem for locals in Japan, tea connoisseurs and people who actually need matcha for tea art or for educational reasons,” Tsai says.

“People just can’t get their hands on it.”

Currently, major brands such as Ippodo and Marukyu Koyamaen have begun limiting sales, citing depleted stock and unprecedented international demand.

Kyoto-based retailer Sazen Tea reported that the price of Marukyu Koyamaen’s matcha is projected to rise by nearly 80 per cent, while Hekisuien’s increased by almost 150 per cent.

“Even if you can get matcha, there are lots of resellers selling at ridiculous prices, with huge margins away from what it should be worth,” Tsai adds.

A common misunderstanding about matcha is that so-called ceremonial-grade matcha is non-existent in Japanese culture.

“Ceremonial-grade matcha is actually just a word that marketers from the West use to get people to think that it’s more premium, and to drive people to buy the more expensive matcha,” Tsai says.

Unlike champagne or cognac, matcha isn’t subject to any formal grading system. Its quality, Tsai says, depends on factors such as leaf maturity, aroma, colour and taste.

Early harvests produce a sweeter, greener, smoother powder with more flavour depth while later batches become increasingly bitter and flatter.

“In general, as long as you can actually taste the complexity within the tea, you can use it in ceremonial events.”

When asked how drinkers could avoid blindly chasing expensive matcha, Tsai says it is important to understand which types suit different uses.

Cheaper, later-harvested powders, he explains, work well for lattes since milk balances their bitterness, while higher-grade matcha is best enjoyed on its own to appreciate its natural umami, sweetness and smooth finish.

Tsai encourages people to explore beyond matcha – to try other Japanese teas such as genmaicha, sencha and hojicha, or even explore teas from other places like China and find what they truly like.

In January 2025, the Ministry of Agriculture announced subsidies for tea factories converting to tencha production in a bid to boost supply amid rising global demand and worsening weather conditions. The government has also rolled out incentives for mechanisation and modern processing facilities, urging farmers to switch from growing sencha (leaf tea) to tencha to cope with demands.

But amid soaring export prices – Uji tencha is selling for more than double last year’s rate – many farmers remain cautious.

Tadateru Honda, president of the Nishio Tea Cooperative Association, has expressed concern that the current ‘matcha boom’ may be short-lived.

“I wouldn’t know how long this boom is going to last,” he told ABC News.

“I want it to last, but I’m more concerned about once the boom is gone. We can assume that the price can drop drastically, and that’s the fear.”

Other farmers have echoed this anxiety, worried that heavy investments such as taking out loans to convert fields and factories could backfire if demand fades and prices collapse.

Perhaps, as farmers rush to meet the world’s thirst for matcha, those chasing the next viral ‘hit’ will have already scrolled past, leaving an industry gearing for a boom that may have already peaked.

Scott Tsai just wants people to appreciate matcha for its original flavour and the richness of Japanese tea culture.

“Matcha is beyond just a trend. And I hope people understand that.”