My suburb used to embarrass me. Now I get why its homes come at a 30% premium

When people hear you live in McKinnon, the most common question isn’t “Where is the best coffee/park/cheapest petrol?” but rather, “Are you in the zone?”

They are, of course, referring to the catchment for McKinnon High, one of Victoria’s most in-demand government schools. Some suburbs are home to celebrities; our most famous resident is a school. There isn’t a “for sale” sign in the area that doesn’t mention the zone, especially when it can inflate the value of a property by up to 30 per cent.

Despite the suburb’s petite nature – just 1.5 square kilometres – not everyone who lives in McKinnon is in the zone.

Spare a thought for the residents of Hopkins, Rose or Wright streets, who call McKinnon home but must send their children to high school in Brighton. If you happen to pass by and see them watering their gardens, perhaps don’t ask them if they are in the zone, or you may cop a soaking.

Unlike some suburbs bordered by landmarks or main roads, McKinnon’s boundaries are somewhat idiosyncratic, stopping a few houses short of Thomas Street to the west, and taking in just a few houses on the east side of Tucker Road.

The boundary also bisects the suburb’s two main green spaces: Alnutt Park and McKinnon Reserve, meaning when mothers shout at their toddlers to “stop running to the next suburb and come wipe your hands”, they are not even exaggerating.

I was familiar with McKinnon long before we moved here two years ago. Growing up, my grandparents lived on McKinnon Road, in a home built in the late ’60s that was emblematic of the area.

I remember from my childhood that the suburb was very white, with not a lot to amuse a seven-year-old. It would be years before the nearby Glen Eira Sports and Aquatic Centre would be built, and even longer before sourdough bakeries would take up residency in McKinnon. By the last count, there were three – a disproportionate number even by Melbourne standards for a suburb with just 7000 residents.

When we were house hunting two years ago, we weren’t specifically looking to be in the zone, so you could say it found us (lucky bastards). In fact, our yard backs onto McKinnon High’s sports fields, which we like to think is an extension of our garden. It doesn’t get more “zoney” than that.

But not everyone gets into McKinnon High via the front door (or back fence). Live in the area long enough and you’ll hear tales of families doing mad-capped stuff, such as renting one-bedroom apartments during their children’s tween years to secure a spot at the school, which has more than 2000 students. Since it opened in 1955, the school has grown so much that half of it isn’t even in McKinnon but at another campus – in Bentleigh East.

Despite the school’s popularity, McKinnon runs second fiddle to its northern neighbour, Ormond, in size and amenities. Ormond station has a morning platform greeter; McKinnon does not. Ormond has a McDonald’s, KFC and Red Rooster. Even the McKinnon bowls club and McKinnon Primary School are in Ormond. But we still boast a full-service petrol station and a decent pub, even if the outdoor deck overlooks the car park.

I’m proud to live in McKinnon now but as a child, I was embarrassed by the suburb my grandparents called home. Why couldn’t they live in the more fashionable Caulfield South, or even Carnegie, which was at least on the bus route to Chadstone shopping centre?

I remember our family friends would (half) joke that we could pretend we lived with my grandparents to get into McKinnon High. I remember thinking I’d rather die than live in McKinnon, even as a lie.

These days, I obviously feel different, and the daggy, white-bread McKinnon of my youth has come a long way. Today, our neighbours are just as likely to be from India or China as they are to have British ancestry. We bought our house from a family who emigrated from Singapore – primarily for the school – and sold it when their youngest finished year 12.

The house next door to us is for sale now, and if it’s not bought by a family chasing the zone dream, it will likely be bought by developers, who will bulldoze it for two townhouses, a pattern that’s been repeated throughout the suburb over the past 20 years.

I saw it happen to the oversized block once occupied by my grandparents’ house, where we’d enjoy large family dinners punctuated by my grandmother’s roast potatoes and other traditional Jewish foods.

It’s where on hot days after school, my brother and I would eat slices of Sara Lee pound cake straight from the freezer, and play totem tennis on the backyard lawn, which my grandfather fastidiously mowed. That’s until the day I threw a miniature tennis racquet at my brother’s shoulder in a fit of adolescent rage; I think that was the last we saw of the totem tennis set.

These days, so many of the homes in the area barely have room for a child’s bike, much less a totem tennis set. As single-storey homes on large blocks have been rebuilt into four-bedroom townhouses with postage-stamp gardens, something has definitely been lost. But there are now twice as many families in the zone. That’s progress for you.

Melissa Singer is fashion editor of The Age.

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