AriZona Real Estate insider!

Look — I’ve been in Tempe long enough to see the rise and fall of Mill Avenue. I went to ASU, I live here now, and if I’m being honest, I probably only go down to Mill three to six times a year these days. Why? Because it’s not the Mill Ave that drew people like me here in the first place.

The Phoenix New Times piece about Mill trading dive bars for “high-end” restaurants got me thinking: who exactly are they trying to attract? Because it sure as hell isn’t the students or locals. Parking is already a nightmare. And when you finally make it down there, most of us want beers, burgers, cheap eats, and a place to actually hang out — not a $30 entrée and a waitlist.

Mill Avenue has always been about energy: college kids, rowdy fans on football Saturdays, and yes, the occasional chaos that made the area fun and unique. You can’t change the DNA of the place no matter how many upscale spots you pack into it.

Look at Vegas—you’ve got The Strip and Downtown. Both serve a purpose and attract different crowds, but at any given time, those crowds come together, whether it’s on The Strip or downtown. Scottsdale already has Old Town for high-end dining, clubbing, and bottle service. Mill Ave doesn’t need to compete with that. It needs to own what it is: the college-town heart of Tempe.

And don’t get me wrong — we already have some polished options near ASU. Blanco Cocina + Cantina and North Italia sit on the east side of campus. So doubling down on more of the same? Who’s really asking for that?

What makes me nervous is watching the true anchors of Mill Ave disappear. Rula Bula—gone. The Vine—gone. Devil’s Advocate—gone. If Casey Moore’s ever shuts down, it’ll be devastating. While some of these spots are technically off Mill, they embodied the vibe that Mill used to be known for—laid-back, affordable, and full of character. They gave Tempe its soul, made Mill fun, and created memories for generations of students and locals. Now, that crowd—the ones who just wanted a burger, a beer, and a good time—aren’t getting their fix. And that’s a problem.

And if you’re thinking in terms of supply and demand—Business 101—this shift makes no sense. The demand for that laid-back, student-friendly atmosphere is still massive. Ignoring it doesn’t just alienate locals—it’s bad strategy. If you want to build something sustainable in Tempe, you don’t chase rooftop cocktails. You build for the people who are already here, spending money, and looking for a place that feels like home.

And honestly, none of these fucken new restaurants makes me want to go eat at them. I’m just one person, sure — but I’ll tell you this: I bought my old home years ago because of Mill Ave. I saw the energy, the life, the culture. Now? I barely go down there and don’t plan to any time soon.

So, to the restaurant owners mentioned in the Phoenix New Times piece — good luck trying to sell us the new BS. Maybe you’re right and I’m wrong, but from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t feel like you’re reading the room.

Also — if ChuckBox ever shuts down, I swear we’ll riot. Just kidding. But seriously, don’t make us test that theory.