I live in a posh suburb of Melbourne.  An “old money” suburb, at least as “old money” as Australia gets.  It’s much more of an accident than good management that I happen to live here, and my artist soul often feels like an imposter.  But happily, it’s not usually too long before my aesthete’s heart re-asserts itself and goggles at some new beauty.  Like this glorious 60s house I came across the other day. 

There are still several of these beauties around my suburb, though they are dwindling.  They — together with the marvellous “arts and crafts” style homes, and the grand old mansions that haven’t been classified by the National Trust — are being replaced by the grey mausoleums.  These boxy slabs with pasted-on curlicues and fake windows (for dead people don’t have to look out the window, what?), and sometimes with a Tuscan tower or two, spring up behind every cyclone fence.  

So before they vanish altogether I’m going to feature, for posterity, a few of the great houses of my suburb.

*****

Images: by me