I moved from the trendy inner north to a boring suburb – and it was worth the trade-offs

My suburb doesn’t get mentioned alongside Melbourne’s other, more exclusive, mini-suburbs. You would think proximity to championship golf courses and Chadstone The Fashion Capital would count for something, but no.

I expect it’s because most people – if they’ve even heard of it – don’t know where it is. Before moving here, neither did I. With fewer than 2000 residents in 0.8 square kilometres, Huntingdale is definitely small. Small but not boutique. And too small to contain the train station that bears its name, which is in Oakleigh.

Not to be confused with Deepdene or Kooyong, Huntingdale is a remnant pocket of industry and postwar housing best described as eclectic. Wedged between Oakleigh and Clayton in Melbourne’s south-east, it’s both old school and a modern melting pot. An aggregation of the people that make up Melbourne in 2024. About the only thing you’ll struggle to find here is hipsters.

Planners dream of 20-minute neighbourhoods, where your needs are within a 20-minute walk. Huntingdale could be the model for a five-minute version. It packs a lot into a little. Hungry? Grab some kokoretsi from Pita Wrap It or a kongbiji jjigae at Samwon Garden. Need something stripped, welded, recast and plated? There are different industrial workshops for each of these tasks. On a spiritual quest? Sample the teachings at the Buddhist centre, the Bangladeshi mosque or the Chinese Methodist church.

We came here 18 years ago in search of an affordable home (how quaint that sounds now). We found it over the road from a factory that ran 16 hours a day. It was just the break we needed. The factory was generally pretty quiet except for the occasional sound of metal pipe hitting concrete floor. When they were really busy, an automated laser cutting machine used to run all night and glow eerily across the street like something from Stranger Things.

Within a couple of years, the factory moved out to Dandenong and was replaced by a 21st-century succession industry – a training centre for overseas refrigeration mechanics. Since they closed, any early morning noise comes from people doing laps at a nearby gym.

For most of our time here, Huntingdale seemed unknown to those from outside and ignored by some who lived here. Things noticeably changed through COVID. Those who avoided the shopping strip in favour of Oakleigh and Clayton discovered there was value and good eating to be had and that the group of street drinkers who socialise outside the IGA after work are harmless.

It’s taking a while but many of the essentials of a sophisticated life have made it to our little shopping strip. You can get a sourdough baguette from Arnaud’s, or a matcha latte and hojicha cake at Angela’s. Holding the line against modernity is A-1 Nibbles, a cafe where it’s not unusual for someone in high-vis to order a double cappuccino with three sugars, a can of Red Bull and a couple of dimmies for breakfast.

My suburb is not at wine bar-level sophistication just yet. If thirsty, you have two options (other than street drinking). There’s the Kaiju! craft brewery, a now-compulsory feature of industrial areas. Here, a FIFO hipster can sell you an expensive, kooky beer in a can designed by someone from Collingwood. Alternatively, try the gamers’ bar near the station. Catering to one of the more interesting yet invisible sub-cultures, it’s a welcoming share-house vibe. There’s banter about late-stage capitalism, the drinks are cheap and it’s BYO food, #cozzielivs.

Before you pack your wagon and move to our five-minute wonderland, there are some trade-offs. Being industrial, it can be noisy, but the smell is more of a defining feature. It swings between the good (souvlaki smoke) and the not-so-good (welding smoke), depending on the wind direction. Those who live at the northern end near Dandenong Road complain of hoon noise on Saturday nights. At our end near the factories, it’s blissfully quiet on weekends before the trucks and forklifts start again on Monday.

Aaron Baddeley after winning the 2006 Mastercard Masters at Huntingdale.Credit: John Donegan

Those who know will know that the exclusive Huntingdale Golf Club, which is across the suburban boundary in Oakleigh South, is a verdant oasis of trees and lush turf perfection.

Huntingdale itself, not so much. Aside from a couple of pocket parks, the environmental heavy lifting has been left to nature strips and our shrinking backyards. Also, unless you have a thing for industrial aesthetics – I’m developing one – beauty is not immediately apparent. There’s none of the pretty Edwardian cottages of Oakleigh or the cream brick cool of Moorabbin here. This is austere, postwar weatherboard country. Flourishes of expression and individualism are limited to subtle variations in chimneys.

Finally, one last caveat: don’t come here looking for nightlife. Things are dead at 9pm, but you can get a burger with the lot or lemon chicken at 6am on your way home from places with nightlife.

But are these really trade-offs? Having spent my 20s in the inner north, I once confused having a bar and cafe on every corner with diversity and constant activity with amenity. Huntingdale has set me straight. Now, when I visit suburbs with cachet, I leave feeling that being burdened with that much cultural capital looks exhausting.

To be honest, trade-offs are a bonus if they keep the crowds away. Like residents of any small exclusive locale, we’d rather keep it for ourselves.

Justin Buckley lives in Huntingdale and works in horticulture and heritage.

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