It’s the age of the bearded hipster. Look around; there’s a facial hair renaissance, for better or worse. But Moustache is not a place for facial grooming; it’s a ‘milk-and-cookies bar’. If there’s a ’tache in this tiny establishment then it’ll be of the milky variety; a white smudge riding an upper lip. At 30m2, Moustache is a mote. From the outside, it’s a mote that highlights by contrast somewhat dowdy appearance of its neighbours, although the decorative façade of Smith + Caughey, across the road, provides an interesting outlook, and the wonderful heritage awning of the Civic Theatre, from which the store’s retro-influenced signage hangs, is a glorious exercise in decorative street enhancement.

As you might expect from a small business with a young owner, diminutiveness on this project was not consigned solely to spatial dimensions. The limits of space were reflected in equal measure by a limited budget and, as is often the case, there is an inverse proportionality between inventiveness of design and the folding stuff.

The designers, Monica Lal and Miguel Machado, freelancing from their day jobs, and known collectively (with other collaborators, on occasion) as mimo inc*, were inspired by the youthful vigour of the proprietor, who was launching into business at the ripe old age of 22 years old. The origins of the project were typically Gen Y, by text message initially, although the altruism of the commitment to the project for little financial reward is a trait less acknowledged in that generation. The brief lent more towards word association than prescription.

“Three months ago we received a text message from a friend which started this off,” says Lal. “It turned out that they had a friend who was starting up a milk-and-cookies bar called Moustache, and had a really small budget and wanted to open at the end of August – but no one to help her realise the dream. After going on site and meeting the client, we had a better idea of the project. Our client was 22 years old and very enthusiastic and really this was one of the big reasons we wanted to push forward doing this; we wanted to give her the best start possible and produce a finished product that would eventually enhance her business model.

The brief was a few key words: ‘quirky’, ‘fun’ and ‘sophisticated’. The great – or difficult – element of this project was that we had to dig deep into favours and have a DIY attitude to meet her $20K budget. It’s all in the details, that’s what makes this tiny space unique. We really put some thought into each separate element and how this would finally come together without being too claustrophobic and over the top.”

So, with limited, er, dough, this duo wisely devised a recipe that mixed branding, colourful highlights and feature lighting into a carefully organised space. Aesthetic sins were hidden, where possible, beneath dropped ceiling panels, for instance, or a preponderance of strandboard.

What exactly happens in a milk-and-cookies bar? It’s a fairly simple operation. The floor space is separated into two parts: point-of-sale at the front and preparation at the back, demarcated by a change in ceiling height, a pinch point caused by the angle of the point of sale counter and a workbench running across the width. Design flourishes are at the front: a custom light fixture, for instance, constructed from oversized vintage milk bottles sourced from a west Auckland goat farmer.

The idea of milk bottles as light fittings has been explored before, most notably by Droog. Here, the designers experimented with brass gallery fittings to design this piece, before personally installing it: a delicate operation, given the varied levels and number of bottles. Another key design move was the arrangement of shelving behind the serving counter. These angular, colourful pieces pierce the fabric of the wall, locking back into the framing to provide a few, precious extra centimetres of depth. Every available inch has been eked out.

As we meet on site a couple of days before opening, it’s clear the store is creating a fuss. A group of teen girls pop their heads in to try and buy something; taxi drivers peer in the window – and taxi drivers are always a surefire barometer of potential success – driven, perhaps, a little bit delirious by the sweet aroma of cookies cooking that is wafting out the door.