Hands off, Camberwell: Melbourne’s most charming cinema is ours, not yours

“I’ll look at it. But only if you promise we can move back to Carlton when we retire.” My husband’s grudging acceptance of our potential move to Hawthorn East was not the most auspicious start to our new life.

But 15 years later, we’ve come to love the hidden depths and diversity of our rectangular suburb.

Squeezed between its bigger, better-known neighbours – Hawthorn, Camberwell and Kew – the Hawthorn East stereotype is Lululemon, accountants and lawyers, with a lot of “Where are your kids at school?” thrown in.

But I can vouch that it has far more going for it than European cars, AFL players and entertainment types (members of the Minogue and Newton families are scattered around Hawthorn East and Chrissie Swan also calls it home). So, what makes Hawthorn East special?

It’s not the shops. There are shopping strips at each end of my street but I recently learnt that neither is actually in my suburb. While suburb boundaries across Melbourne most typically run down the middle of roads, a strange quirk means our neighbours have claimed both sides of the roads that mark the east and west edges of my suburb.

Apparently, these were moved in recent years – some might say to prevent confusion; others might say there’s been a quiet inner-east power struggle that Hawthorn East lost.

Auburn Village is claimed by Hawthorn.

In the west, Auburn Village, founded in 1880 and steeped in history, is claimed by Hawthorn. To the east, both sides of the Burke Road strip are in Camberwell. Even the small shopping complex opposite the Rivoli cinema, which clearly sits within Hawthorn East’s boundaries, has decided to hide its association with my suburb, recently changing its name to “Camberwell Place”.

The Rivoli, heritage-listed with a stunning art deco interior and facade, is a treasure. It’s also in Hawthorn East. Whatever the Camberwell Junction traders might claim on their website, the Rivoli is ours! At the southern border, there was once another, less ornate, cinema – the Toorak Drive-In. It operated for 30 years, closing in 1984 before the site became the national headquarters for Coles.

Hawthorn East’s streetscapes range from $20 million federation mansions to 1970s apartment blocks, with everything in between. That diversity itself has become prized – our street and its surrounds were granted heritage protection a few years ago, for historical and architectural reasons. Strolling its one-kilometre length, you can ponder the evolution of building styles and materials – from Auburn Station (opened in 1882) to a new six-storey apartment block with sweeping views of the CBD skyline.

The diversity of its buildings reflects the diversity of Hawthorn East’s inhabitants. Nearly 50 per cent of all dwellings are one- or two-bedroom flats – many occupied by students who attend nearby Swinburne Uni, one-third of whom are from overseas.

Forty per cent of all households in Hawthorn East are renting, which is significantly higher than the Victorian average (less than one third). So how does that diversity lead to a cohesive community? Like many suburbs across Melbourne, I think it comes from the places that bring the community together.

For our family, it started with the Cara Armstrong community kindergarten. “Community” is no misnomer – the parents volunteered for roles on the committee that actually ran the kindergarten. These were parents with hectic lives made up of busy jobs and young children who gave up hundreds of hours to ensure that the kindergarten, established in 1945 by the charismatic and inspiring mother it was later named after, continued to thrive.

We used to hold committee meetings upstairs at the Auburn Hotel, built in 1888 and still a thriving pub today. Many will remember it as the Geebung Polo Club where, 30 years ago, I spent some hazy and very loud Sunday afternoons. None as loud, though, as the sea of teal volunteers who filled its courtyard, celebrating Monique Ryan’s victory in the 2022 federal election.

It’s not called the “leafy east” for nothing. Like its housing and its people, Hawthorn East’s reserves are diverse. Anderson Park is enormous, with grand views of the city. It was a favourite place during COVID lockdowns, where the space and a view towards the horizon lifted spirits while cavoodles frolicked, oblivious to safe distancing.

Rathmines Road Reserve (known locally as Egg Park for a favourite piece of playground equipment) and Victoria Road Reserve – homes of the Hawthorn Citz (junior football) and Boroondara Cobras (cricket) respectively – are more functional than pretty, but just as important. Then there is Fritz Holzer Park, which was once the site of the brickworks that produced bricks still found in houses across the area: a calm oasis among the narrow, twisting streets that wrap around it.

A community is sustained by the actions of those who live in it. When I was ill last year, another school mum (who is a GP in Hawthorn East) organised a meal train. Two or three times a week, every week for six months, people from our community took turns to drop meals at our door. While the meals themselves were amazing, just as special was how they made my family feel. “You can actually taste the love,” my husband gushed uncharacteristically, during one visit to me in hospital. Other friends drove the kids to sport and school, or took them for sleepovers and even interstate holidays.

So, if we don’t end up retiring to Carlton after all, it won’t be Hawthorn East’s beautiful homes, verdant parks or tree-lined streets that keep us here. It will be the people.

Sarah Moller is a writer and former lawyer living in Melbourne.

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