Against the odds – those odds being impossibly high house prices – we still pine for, and feel that we deserve, the quarter-acre dream. Flatting is still seen as the cheap ‘n’ crappy precursor to proper, grown-up house dwelling. 

But those of us who prefer to live in the centre of the city (the ones who aren’t millionaires, that is) have had to adjust our expectations. We have had to accept that an apartment might indeed be our only affordable option. And canny developers have responded by conjuring up more and more high-rise blocks all over the central suburbs. Precious few of these places are attractive; many others are uniform little boxes piled one on top of the other.

Jeremy McLeod of Australia’s Breathe Architecture is a believer in apartment living. If it’s good enough for Parisians, Berliners and Manhattanites, he argues, it’s good enough for us. In 2014, McLeod realised his dream of creating what he boldly refers to as a new model of housing: an apartment building that is not only affordable and sustainable, but encourages community spirit, and even exercise and fresh air – a building so pleasant, even the architect lives there.

The Commons are situated in Melbourne’s Brunswick, just off busy Sydney Road, and consist of 24 two-bedroom apartments, artists’ studios, and a yoga studio and café which face onto and engage with the street. It’s a building designed to foster community. There is a rooftop vegetable garden, with a chalkboard watering roster on the ground floor; a barbecue; even beehives. “The Commoners”, as McLeod calls them, go without personal laundries, instead using sharedwashing machines and a clothesline on the rooftop.

“The laundry has been key,” he says. “It allows everybody to meet each other and works as a lubrication for social interaction.

"Once you've washed your underwear next to someone, it kind of makes that awkward elevator conversation a bit easier”

Around here, the word “car” is a swear. Residents can take the tram or train, both situated handily, or choose from one of 72 bike parks, but there is no standard basement carpark. This revolutionary measure saved the project a cool A$750,000 in construction costs, and meant there was no need to excavate contaminated soil.

The aesthetic is raw, minimalist and, in keeping with the neighbourhood, achingly hip. On the exterior, chains coated in climbing wisteria vines jangle down over the balconies. The foyer walls are made of recycled bricks; untouched concrete lines the staircase to the second floor; and throughout the building, there are unfinished timber floorboards, top-nailed so the materials can be ripped up and reused at the end of the building's life.

To create the maximum light and space for minimal cost, construction was, says McLeod, an “an exercise in reduction”. There are no plasterboard ceilings, leaving naked plumbing, sprinklers and cables. There are no tiles, no chrome fittings, no second bathrooms, no tiling. There is no air conditioning; instead the building relies on thermal efficiency and ceiling fans – a system which proved its mettle during the recent heatwaves. Heating is provided via two gas hydronic boilers, and each apartment is fitted with a “kill switch” at the front door, enabling residents to cut power to appliances on the way out the door.

The absence of these key features is a feature in itself. Instead of missing their own carpark and laundry, residents celebrate being able to use public transport and the option of socialising while sharing the rooftop washing machines. This is the future of apartment living: a kind of architectural triple threat that not only makes economic sense but has social and sustainable functions as well.   ​

Game designer Trent Kusters, who rents in the building, praises the design. He loves the spacious deck that accompanies each apartment, the lack of air con hum and the exercise he gets from using his bike.

“This place will keep, it’s well built. Some apartments start deteriorating as soon as you open the door”
And extolment of The Commons’ virtues has been universal. In 2014 it was named an “exemplar of apartment living” at the Victorian Architecture Awards, won the Multi-Density Residential and Best of the Best Categories at the Sustainability Awards and the award for Residential Architecture and Sustainable Architecture at the National Architecture Awards. Moreland Mayor Meghan Hopper calledit a remarkable success.

All of which has spurred on McLeod to create an even more efficient version of The Commons: The Nightingale, directly across the road on Florence Street. Demand for the new flats, which sell for between A$400,000 and A$645,000, was such that a ballot had to be started. The Commons’ reputation meant there was no need for real estate agents, marketing agents or display suites. "We don't need to sell someone a dream about what it is they're buying into," McLeod says.

Commoner Trent Kusters, having rented over the road, is one of The Nightingale’s prospective purchasers. He compares his experience with friends who live in city high-rise towers, where they will catch the lift with neighbours from the same floor. "And they will go down 20 floors and no one will say anything. That seems really strange after living here."

Article by Julie Hill