Dark, damaged and peeling: What $660 rents you in Sydney

Sydney — greatest city in the world or dystopian hellscape? As demand for rentals outstrips supply 100 to one, homeownership is the deciding factor, writes renter Mikaela Wilkes.

“I can’t buy the millennial dream, sure, but I’ll be able to rent it.”

This was a sentence that I, a former housing reporter, unfortunately published in June, 2022 shortly before relocating from Auckland to Sydney.

Three months later, Sydney’s housing crisis was given an additional moniker: “chronically unaffordable”.

Which is an academic way of saying that 35.3 per cent of renters are in housing stress — paying more than a third of their monthly income on housing costs.

Sydney was also awarded the title of second least affordable major housing market in the world, after Hong Kong.

In short: I was wrong. Two years, and going-on-three rentals later, things are only looking tougher.

A rental advertisement for a large “shop top” unit near Enmore Road, for $660 per week listed in February 2024.

Finding a share house in 2024 is a bit like deciding to pack up early on the Friday before a long weekend to beat the traffic, only to sit in it for hours because everyone else had the same idea. Or so I learned.

I arrived early on Saturday for a midday rental inspection that, in hindsight, looked a little too good to be true.

Walls in the living room covered in cracks and water damage. Picture: Mikaela Wilkes

The living room. Picture: Mikaela Wilkes

More than one hundred would-be renters had queued up by 12.10pm to view the “spacious” two-bedroom apartment listed for $660 a week.

Listed as having its own private courtyard, and located in the heart of Enmore (one of TimeOut’s 2023 coolest neighbourhoods in the world), it seemed like a rare gem in a sea of soulless $800 studios. Old and poorly decorated, but with potential.

The reality was grim.

Two large bedrooms, with storage, are a rarity to come by in Sydney’s inner-city suburbs for less than $800.

The advertisedcourtyard did not look like this.

I’m not talking about the property itself: With “two large bedrooms” so dark they were barely visible despite the blazing midday sun; a dingy “private outdoor terrace”, which would be more aptly described as a narrow concrete corridor; or the “eat in kitchen” which is fabulous PR spin for “no dining room”.

Both bedrooms were dark inside with little sunlight. Picture: Mikaela Wilkes

A pair of would-be renters inspecting the property. Picture: Mikaela Wilkes

Ladders and floor coverings indicated severe water damage on the roof, and likely mould, had been scraped off, awaiting the ‘landlord special’ of fresh paint to hide all manner of sins. For a few months, at least.

When I turned the shower handle to test the water pressure, the pipes groaned like even they had given up.

The air was thick with desperation, all the same.

Prospective renters crowded the single file stairwell, and spilt from the door down Rieby lane, and around the corner of the block. As the line doubled, then tripled behind me within minutes, people actually ran.

With reports of inspection queues like this in January and December, when a UK tourist likened Australia’s rental market to the Hunger Games in a viral video, the size of the crowd didn’t come as a shock.

What did was the sheer diversity of Sydneysiders who were seriously considering renting this home, while simultaneously discussing exactly how it didn’t suit their needs.

This bathroom has seen better days, looking worse for wear in person.

A rental advertisement for a large “shop top” unit near Enmore Road, for $660 per week listed in February 2024. Picture: Mikaela Wilkes

This included young professional couples, university students, internationals, but also families, with ages ranging from 18 to 40.

“Too dark, too small, too hot, too noisy,” almost every group said.

They hushed whispers about what to offer above the asking price, and FaceTimed housemates to outline potential sleeping arrangements.

I’ve rented plenty of properties like this one, as a university student then a workforce new entrant.

What I was getting (mould, no insulation, inner-city locations, and no storage, mildly traumatic housemate experiences) was generally what I paid for.

Beggars can’t be choosers, but with vacancy rates at near record lows of 1.7 per cent, there’s almost no choice at all.

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