Red Brick Suburbia

When we bought our house and moved to the suburbs my mother lamented that I would rebel so much after she had tried to ‘give us a better life’. She of course had her tongue firmly planted in her cheek but she had dreamt of bringing up her children away from the cultural waste-land that was the North Shore in the 50s (where she was raised). So in the 60s my parents moved to Glebe, lived above a hamburger shop and became bohemians. My mum went to Sydney Uni and my dad rode motorbikes and brought home the bacon. When I finally came along in the late 70s they were living in Newtown with my older siblings and it was there they stayed and we were raised in a cultural hub.

So for SNH and I to move to the suburbs and away from the wonders of an inner-city that never sleeps, it was seen as a reverse rebellion. But we wanted space and a 50s style house – oh yeah and we needed a house we could afford!

And here we will stay. And it seems many are following suit.

We live in a group of suburbs that features many untouched post-war gems. Red brick, liver brick and blonde brick beauties. Houses with delightful details like lovely iron work detail, playful tile mosaics, sandstone feature walls and matching front and garage doors.

Unfortunately for these homes, they reside on large blocks of land that are coveted. And more and more the trend is to knock down the original dwelling and build a detail-less monstrosity in its place.

I wanted to capture what was left and create a separate blog as an Ode to these post-war homes. But as I can’t seem to update this blog as frequently as I like, I will settle for a few posts here with photos I have taken. A tribute. Our heritage.