‘Allo dumpling! Ooh look at you, all fat and soft with your steaming hot, juicy inside and crispy little bottom. Ooh, give us a bite then. Pop yourself into my little bowl of soy and vinegar and hop into my mouth, chop chop!

Ah yes. Melbourne’s developed a love affair with dumplings over recent years and it’s only getting deeper. Luckily, we’re spoilt for choice.

Fried Dumplings at Camy Shanghai Dumplin

We’ve come a long way since significant numbers of Chinese people began arriving in Melbourne, on their way to Victoria’s gold rushes. In late 1854 the first Chinese lodging houses were recorded in Little Bourke Street and Celestial Avenue; it wasn’t until the 1970s that Little Bourke Street’s arches were built and the area became the Chinatown we know today.

This isn’t a history lesson. The point is, over a hundred years ago Chinese people brought their culinary delights to our fairly bland shores, and we’ve never looked back. More recently, our eyes have been on the dumpling. Hell, we even designed our own version – the (shudder) dim sim. But don’t go anywhere near that fart-smelling ball of cabbage and miscellaneous meat; head to one of the top dumpling places below and order a plate of steamed or fried dumpling goodness.

A good dumpling is all about the right textures and tasty fillings. Originating in Northern China, a dumpling is essentially ground meat and/or vegies, wrapped in a thinly rolled piece of dough – but it’s so much more than that. Oh yes.

Wonton House, on Russell Street, is well known for its dumplings, wontons and authentic Cantonese dishes. Sandy, part-owner of Wonton House and two sister restaurants (Wonton House on Swanston Street, and newly opened – and already booked out – Wonton House Secret Kitchen in Glen Waverley), says the art of the dumpling has a lot to do with the wrapper.

“The dumpling skin must not be too thick or too soft, and has to be supple,” she says.

Wonton house does super Xiao Long Bao (sometimes called ‘Shanghai dumplings’) – those addictive soupy dumplings with a little twist on the top – and according to Sandy, the key to good Xiao Long Bao is the fatty broth inside, and flavourful pork mince that is well spiced.

Elsewhere in the city, you’ll find yummy dumplings at Camy Shanghai Dumpling on Tattersalls Lane in Chinatown. The party animal of the dumpling world, this place is cheap, rowdy and colourful with its plastic cups for tea, BYO wine and staff renditions of ‘Happy Birthday’. The food here mightn’t be the best you’ll find, but it’s ridiculously cheap, and it’s an experience in itself as wait staff herd you in like cattle and bark at you when they take your order (more fun than it sounds).

Xiao Long Bao - Wonton House

Shanghai Village, on Little Bourke, is another goody – but it’s no secret anymore so be prepared to line up for a table on weekend nights. It ain’t pretty (unless bright orange chopsticks, red PVC seats and pink walls are your idea of decor heaven) but the fried pork dumplings will make you giddy with their salty, fatty, sticky deliciousness. With crispy bottoms, skin that is just chewy enough, and insides that are moist and tasty, you’ll be addicted after one. The steamed vegie dumplings, plump with mushrooms, are also good here. Just don’t burn your tongue on the first steaming hot bite!

Noodle Kingdom on Russell Street (just a couple of doors from Wonton House) also does reasonable dumplings and you won’t have to line up with the cool kids to get in. However, their specialty is noodles (hence the name, one would imagine), so make sure you also order a gigantic bowl of noodle soup.

The best Xiao Long Bao, in my opinion, can be found at Hu Tong Dumpling Bar on Market Lane (not to be confused with their other restaurant on Commercial Road, Prahran – same name, inferior dumplings, beyond terrible service). Xiao Long Bao is Hu Tong’s headline act, and they are – seriously – little dollops of silky, fatty, porky heaven. If you’re like me, you’ll giggle with enjoyment each time you stuff one into your mouth. They also serve up a range of vibrant, spicy Szechuan dishes like cuttlefish with preserved peppers, crispy fragrant duck and Szechuan bean curd with pork mince. Final word of advice: book. It’s crazy in there.

Happy dumplings!

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Wonton House

181 Russell Street, Melbourne

(03) 9662 9882

Camy Shanghai Dumpling

23-25 Tattersalls Lane, Melbourne

(03) 9663 8555

Shanghai Village

112-114 Little Bourke Street, Melbourne

(03) 9663 1878

Noodle Kingdom

175 Russell Street, Melbourne

(03) 9654 2828

Hu Tong Dumpling Bar

14-16 Market Lane, Melbourne

(03) 9650 8128

In the heart of Melbourne’s CBD lies the hub of quirky retail stores that range from Russian dolls to watchmakers; toy stores to tie stores and everything in between.

The Royal Arcade is an understated treasure of Melbourne, connecting Little Collins Street to Bourke Street Mall, with an added vertical passage that runs through to Elizabeth Street.

In 1868 Mr Charles Webb, an architect from Suffolk in England, won a competition to design the arcade. In 1870 it was officially opened by Lord Mayor Charles Amess. The Royal is proudly known as the first arcade in Melbourne and the longest-standing arcade in Australia.

In 1892, two of the Royal Arcade’s most attractive features were erected. Gaunt’s Clock can be seen at the end of the arcade above the Collins Street exit, displaying two seven-foot giants statues of mythical characters, ‘Gog and Magog,’ standing either side. These statues were carved from clear pine and modelled on the figures that can be seen in Guildhall, London. They are said to symbolise some kind of conflict between the Britons and the Trojan invaders.

There are a few different myths about Gog and Magog. One refers to them as two giants who guard the underworld and gods of dark spirits. Part of the prophecies of the apocalypse is that when Gog and Magog return to war, the war will end. There’s also a theory that they actually represent war between two eastern-European countries.

At the opposite end of the arcade stands another symbolic statue, Chronos, a Greek mythological character also known as ‘Father Time’. If Chronos has his blindfold removed, the world will end.

From the years 2000-2004, the Royal Arcade was renovated and restored to its once-magnificent state. On the opposite side to Chronos, years ago, there was a statue of a baby called Dawn, who represented the beginning of life. But when the arcade was given a makeover, all of the statues were removed for a fresh coat of paint and Dawn was never returned.

One of the more intriguing stores in the arcade’s repertoire is Spellbox, a Melbourne original witchcraft company, purveyors of anything witchy, wizardry or magic in nature. Spellbox has been in the arcade twelve years, though it looks like the arcade was built around the store, as it blends right in with the Victorian gothic feel of the  Royal Arcade.

Lori Valentine is a manager and owner of Jasper Junior, a toy store that has been in the Royal Arcade since October 2006.  Like all others in the arcade, Jasper Junior gets a fairly broad range in their customers. “We have a lot of customers who come through internationally because it’s the oldest arcade in Melbourne” Valentine says. “People come in just to see Gog and Magog, so they come into our shop while they’re waiting for them.”

The popular chocolate tours and laneway tours have been great for business “I think it has a lot to do with placement,” Lori says. “We looked at the Block Arcade but I think this already has a more ‘toy’ feel to it. I think the nostalgia of the arcade also filters through to us, so by the time [customers] come into the store they’re already warmed to that.”

The Golden Lamp Bookshop is another quirky store which once resided in the arcade. The Golden Lamp moved out last year after an eleven year-stint. Now located in West Melbourne, the shop is all about self-development in a variety of areas, such as dream analysing, relationship counselling or palmistry.

“[The Royal Arcade] was beautiful; it had a really protective feel because it’s so old and being in the alleyway section [of the Elizabeth Street annex] where it’s not renovated, we kind of felt like the outcasts, which suited us just fine.” says co-manager of Golden Lamp, Carol.  And with so much charisma, it’s no surprise the arcade has a few secrets. “Many years ago, the top bit used to be a brothel!” Carol explains, “All the ladies were upstairs. It would have been a very long time ago, but it’s still interesting to know!”

As if housing one of Melbourne’s earliest brothels was not enough, there’s rumour of a ghost in the arcade; a woman on a spinning wheel has been sighted on many occasions after hours. Staff members believe she has been there for an exceptionally long time considering, how long it has been since spinning wheels were used.

According to Drew Sinton, paranormal expert and owner of The Haunted Bookshop in McKillop Street, “In 1997 we were looking at opening a shop in the Royal Arcade. We were looking at taking out a lease which was number 22 (now Love It). I was looking at going into partnership with a medium who was minister of a spiritualist church. We took the keys to go have a look and she went upstairs, and she says to an empty room- ‘there’s a lady here with a spinning wheel.’”

With an erotic past and some haunting stories the Royal Arcade is an integral part of any tour of Melbourne’s hidden gems.

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Let’s face it: it’s freezing outside and that cold wind slapping you in the face isn’t pleasant. Thankfully, Melbourne has a bunch of restaurants, bars and cafes to warm you up this winter – whether it’s with a cosy spot in front of an open fire, a warm drink, or food so spicy it heats you from the inside. These are our picks.

Dainty Sichuan
176 Toorak Road, South Yarra / 9078 1686

Don’t be fooled by the name, because dainty it ain’t. If you haven’t yet discovered Dainty Sichuan, a Melbourne institution with a loyal following of chilli fanatics, you really should. And winter is the perfect time to do it. Unless you’re allergic to chilli or Sichuan pepper – in which case, run. This is seriously hot, seriously tasty food that’ll blow your face off and have you planning your next visit in between wiping sweat off your forehead and gulping down mouthfuls of Tsing Tao beer.

Dainty Sichuan has been serving up authentic, inexpensive Sichuan food since 2003. Originally in Collingwood, it moved to bigger digs on Corrs Lane in the CBD, and has now landed on Toorak Road in South Yarra due to its popularity. But don’t let its latest location put you off – it stays true to its roots with the kitchen pumping out mountains – literally mountains – of fierce dried chillies. The space is sleek and modern but it’s the vibrant, fiery and interesting food that makes this place a winner in winter. If you were cold when you walked in, you certainly won’t be when you leave.

Dishes are given a one-, two- or three-chilli rating and if you’re a first-timer it might be best to stick to the safer options. But if you’re brave, order up and hang on: think dishes like fiery Kung Pao chicken that packs a serious flavour punch, pyramids of chilli crabs, ants climbing trees (a pile of noodles studded with pork mince – the ‘ants’), green beans fried with loads of garlic, or a big bowl of sweet, sticky and searingly hot pig’s feet, accompanied by those tongue-numbing, yet addictive, Sichuan peppercorns. A hotpot menu is a relatively new, and popular, addition: big metal cauldrons of stock simmers at your table, ready to cook your chosen meats and veges. The generously sized mains range from $15-$25, and with lashings of chilli, garlic and ginger in most dishes you’ll scare away any winter colds, too.

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The Abyssinian
277 Racecourse Road, Kensington / 9376 8754

Step into this cosy little restaurant for a real taste of the Horn of Africa – and it’s just a stone’s throw from Newmarket train station. A local favourite, The Abyssinian serves up Ethiopian and Eritrean food that’ll warm your belly and make you smile. Surrounded by cultural artefacts, friendly service, warm lighting and a relaxed vibe, it’s the perfect place to hide from the icy wind whipping down Racecourse Road and learn a bit about a culture many of us are unfamiliar with.

The traditional way is to eat with your hands, which is easier than it sounds thanks to the injera bread – a soft, spongy and slightly sour flatbread that looks like a big pancake. Your chosen dishes are tipped onto the injera and you rip pieces from the bread, using it to squeeze and scoop up dishes like chunks of pumpkin coated in berbere (a sweet, hot Serrano-chilli spice mix), tender goat cooked with lemon, cardamom, cloves and cinnamon, or slow-cooked pieces of lamb with spiced ghee and berbere.

The food here is rich, spicy and full of flavour, and it’s pretty hard not to feel warm while you share this vibrant, colourful food with friends and the juices run down your hands. Mains are $15-$24 but the mixed platter – a generous range of dishes served on a big metal plate of injera – provides the best value: $45 for two and $22 for each additional person. A word of advice: book on weekends, and go with someone you’re happy to get messy with.

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Von Haus
1a Crossley Street, CBD / 9662 2756

Is there a more appropriate soundtrack to the depressingly dark winter nights than Nick Cave and his mournful growling? I think not. And bless the staff at Von Haus, because apparently they agree. This beautiful, tiny laneway bar captures exactly what Melbourne’s winter is about with its dark wood furniture, rich, sweet smells of home cooking and interesting wine list (no Oyster Bay sauv blanc here). Shit, there’s even a bowl of chestnuts on the mantelpiece. Actually, it’s a bit like sitting in someone’s kitchen.

If you can nab a table (come early or on a weeknight), there’s plenty to keep you here including a tempting cheese menu (keeping the company of abovementioned chestnuts) and a chalkboard of comfort food like saffron- and cinnamon-braised lamb or hearty Hungarian goulash. There’s a courtyard out the back for warmer nights and smokers, and on Fridays and Saturdays it’s open Haus for brekky or lunch and coffee. But no earlier than 10am on Saturday; it’s winter and Von Haus isn’t getting up early for anybody. Ah Von Haus, you had me at Nick Cave.

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Sister Bella
22 Drewery Place, CBD

Beautiful sister indeed. This bar opened up in 2007 as the younger sibling of St Jerome’s – the much-loved but recently departed bar on Caledonian Lane. Sister Bella – also hidden down a tiny lane pretending to be nothing more than a rubbish bin strip – is a small, hip venue with rough wooden floors, exposed brick walls, an assortment of stools, boxes and cast iron gates (yes), and a jumble of op-shop pictures cluttering the walls. So what makes this place any different from the dozens of other small, hips bars with brick walls and op-shop pictures, you ask? Why, mulled wine of course! Warm, spicy, lovely mulled wine – but only in winter. And when you’re feeling a little mulled yourself, there’s a menu of burgers, pastas and pizza – perhaps chorizo and preserved lemon or ham and dukkah. Mains are $8-$14, but early birds are rewarded with $6 pizzas every day before 6pm. If somewhere to sit is important to you, perhaps visit on a weeknight – Sister Bella is a magnet for cool people, smug with belief that only they know where the cool places are, and on weekends it’s standing room only. Ironic, no?

Idling menacingly between Lonsdale and Little Bourke Streets is Caledonian Lane – a viperous voodoo Valhalla containing the constant feeling of night. The same eerie backstreet ether that oozes out of Taxi Driver, Bringing out the Dead, and William Friedkin’s Cruising. A blackened, anything-can-happen, twitchy kind of feeling, where sounds become ominous and important.

Defiantly counted among Melbourne’s many hidden wonders, Caledonian is the darkened shooting star on the tourist’s lap of the laneways. But where Hosier Lane is the twinkle in the city’s eye, Caledonian is its kool-aid alter-ego – a candied darkness delight loaded with fangs, lip gloss and love in the gutter.

From heaven to earth there is evil heat and adventure: shoes are strung up and hung by their entrails, elderly hookers swish by in vinyl, speed freaks judder and stutter, lobsters decompose in the gutter. If a DJ cut a sample stealing the spirit of the lane, the leering laughter of Screaming Jay Hawkins would justifiably be jammed on a loop with a snuff film beating on reverb.

A simple pick and roll out of Little Bourke Street reveals the fun-bunker of St Jerome’s. Now closed, the bar is famous for not only being a skin-tight haunt of many Melburnians, but also for spawning its travelling laneway festival which plays through cities across Australia every year. St Jerome’s threw a two week wake/street party to signify the end of its five-year era in March this year.

The closure of St Jerome’s is not the only reverse swing in Caledonian. With boarded up barbershops and every store front laying departed, you see for yourself that the bump and bam and right-hook rumble of Myer’s $500m redevelopment of Lonsdale and Ltl Bourke Streets has the laneway on the run.

It is estimated that by final throws of 2012 Caledonian will have been redeveloped and the laneway will no longer exist as we see it today. Instead, it will populated by truck parks and loading bays. No stories, no life, no artwork, no dice.

If Melburnians went nuts and began hanging prosthetics instead of Nike Airs and pairs of stolen T-Lands, Caledonian Lane is probably where it would be. Unfortunately, it may be the life and death of this laneway that the streets could be celebrating.

Reviewed: November 2009

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Collection made in Melbourne

Peering through the window was a little like looking into a wonderland that was half Alice and half Yellow Submarine: in the window itself, felt sculptures in white, red, pink and orange resembled a sea of deformed eyes, while beyond it, past the shelves displaying pale ceramics and misshaped wood, a neon world of string, fur and splattered paint unfolded like a fantastical volcanic eruption.

For anyone still under the illusion that craft is boring, I’d recommend a visit to Craft Victoria. This shop-cum-gallery is among the most beautiful spaces in Melbourne: its bright, welcoming rooms are filled with the creations of local designers and makers. Each object here is part of the city, a tangible piece of its individuality, and, for me, what’s between these walls is a big part of what makes Melbourne such a great place to live.

This is a subject close to my heart, as I’ve always invested so much of myself into the objects around me. Many hold memories of a person or place and others just make me happy, but the things I surround myself with all say a little something about who I am. I love that objects tell a story.

Along with antiques and vintage, handmade objects are the best storytellers. Their stories begin as an idea, or a word, or a joke, and work their way through a person’s mind until they are crafted into reality. Before they even reach a shelf they are imbued with thoughts and memories, a shadow of their maker and the experiences that led them to create in the first place.

Luckily for us, Melbourne is full of people making their stories. Each object and each story will appeal to different people, but the ones that get me excited are those told with playfulness and humour: I like to see the funny side of things and so I surround myself with objects that bring a smile to my face. Even better if they make me giggle like a lunatic.

Brands such as Limedrop have mastered the cute/funny aesthetic, with their range of wooden necklaces and pop-out earrings in the shapes of paper planes, dinosaurs, and sinking ships. Birds and forest animals in particular are popular muses and can be seen across a huge number of ranges in every colour, shape and material; Prudence and Horatio do it very well, cutting out vintage pictures of native birds, putting them on rubber backing and coating them with resin to give them a shiny, glass-like finish.

Jewellery is the most common medium, and within that it is the brooches, badges and buttons that most consistently tickle my funny bone. The Philos-o-face brooches (also by Prudence and Horatio creator Prudence Rees-Lee) are great, featuring the faces of well-quoted philosophers such as Nietzsche and Socrates. With a Philos-o-face or two in your collection you can, in the words of the Prudence, “Put your thinking face on,” whenever you please. Who wouldn’t want that?

While there are an obscene number of people making things that feature lovable critters, there are also those who are doing things no one else is. Lisa Kearns, who works under the brand name Kearnsie, has created badges that are not only funny and sweet but have the potential to break down social barriers. Her colourful ‘Hello’ badges are a play on name tags, but instead say things like ‘Hello, I like to skim stones and take long walks in the park’. There’s a feeling of vulnerability about them that is inherently charming.

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The Atrium, Federation Square

It’s just gone dark and the sound of music and voices floats into the room from the streets below, bringing a bit of the city’s energy into this bright and quiet space. Outside, the sharp angles of Federation Square are softened by movement as people gather and depart; once just a piece of design, it is now firmly embedded in the life and culture of the city.Inside, a far smaller part of Melbourne’s design culture sits on shelves and tables in neatly arranged displays.

This is the studio of Tim Fleming, an artist and designer who makes objects that are part sculpture, part ornament and part artwork: oversized hands and mirrored OK signs, trees toppled over by wind, clouds pouring out rain, green clovers and wooden acorns, world maps, words and tiny restless figures.

This is where design begins. All over the city there are people bent over their desks, pouring themselves into the projects that ultimately make Melbourne the vibrant, creative place that it is.

Anyone who’s ever wandered around the CBD will have seen the extent to which design has filtered into our culture. Look up on Higson Lane and see a colourful light box taking the piss out of celebrity. Glance down any other alley and there may be a bulging brick wall, or a stairway to nowhere, or a chandelier strung between two buildings like a discarded piece of bling.

There are buildings shaped like honeycomb and ones that are so mesmerisingly shiny and golden in the afternoon they make driving downright dangerous. Everywhere shop windows taunt us with their beauty and cause us to walk around in a stupor with a bagful of things we never intended to buy.

We are literally encased in design. Of course, there’s nowhere on earth that isn’t. People are unavoidably creative, and since we stopped being monkeys (and perhaps even before) we have designed things to make our lives better and easier.

So what does a city have to do to be bestowed with the label ‘design city’?

For starters, a design culture can never expand and thrive if the government doesn’t recognise the importance of design and make it a priority. In Berlin, one of the six cities named a ‘City of Design’ by the UNESCO Creative Cities Network, the State has worked closely with design leaders to establish trend-setting trade fairs and festivals, set up creative centres, coaching programs and workshops, and funds such as the Venture Capital Fund, which devotes its €30 million (AU$50 million) budget to financing and supporting the creative sector.

In Montreal, another UNESCO City of Design, the city aims to use design to improve the quality of life of its citizens and inspire people to participate in making their environments better and more liveable.

One program that is doing just that is Commerce Design Montreal, an annual competition that rewards the businesses that best improve their interior design and bring it into harmony with what’s around them. As well as creating many more cool places for people to go, it has revitalised entire neighbourhoods and brought design well and truly into the public focus. As the city said in its UNESCO application, ‘design in Montreal is not simply for show but a source of daily well-being.’

A city must embrace both of these approaches to be truly successful as a design city. It’s not enough to throw a bit of money at design and hope to see it contribute to the economy. It must also be about creating an environment that people want to be in, stimulating people creatively and intellectually, providing new experiences and generally improving the liveability of the city as a whole.

Light box, Higson Lane

Does the Victorian government stack up? They have certainly recognised the importance of design, having established Design Victoria, a resource and training organisation, and created the Victorian Innovation Strategy, but the primary concern with these is increasing the competitiveness and profitability of Victoria’s design sector, not adding to the design culture in a meaningful way.

Take Melbourne’s trams. In addition to being the biggest consumer of trams in the world, trams are inextricably linked to Melbourne’s identity. They feature in our advertising, our postcards and our news programs. They are a big draw for visitors and are part of the daily life of many of the city’s residents. But are they designed or made here? No – we import all our trams from Europe.

The State government likes to say Melbourne is a world-class design city, yet they ignore the opportunity to truly own one of our icons and bring it into the 21st century.

To give them their due, they do support a number of excellent creative endeavours, such as The Melbourne Design Guide, the State of Design Festival (run through Design Victoria) and other events with design elements such as the Fringe Festival, but it seems that the government is far more interested in cultivating an image of Melbourne as the cool, sophisticated design city rather than using design to add value to the lives of the people who live here.

The most obvious form of design in any city is its architecture, and in the last decade in particular many interesting structures have sprung up both in the city centre and in outlying areas. But according to Paul Charlwood, founder of the Melbourne Design Guide and Creative Director of Charlwood Design, this doesn’t make Melbourne stand out. ‘Melbourne has a lot of nice buildings, but everyone’s doing that,’ he says. If Melbourne is a design city, then it is in a smaller, more individual sense; the ‘dirt under the fingernails,’ as Paul puts it.

Melbourne does have a lot of dirt. Coincidentally (or perhaps not), most of it seems to be found in the city’s cracks and crevices: in the alleys and laneways, the old buildings, the arcades and rooftops. These places are Melbourne, filled both with the creative energy of working artists and designers and the stores, cafés and bars that give the city its distinct atmosphere and personality.

No city could even hope to be a city of design without having a significant number of people out there actually creating things. And it’s not enough for governments to encourage design, either; there must be people working on a grassroots level to introduce design into the community. In Melbourne, these are the people who set up and participate in all the markets and design events, who create zines and independent publications, who start labels and set up shops, who build, draw and make, who exhibit their work and bring their art onto the streets.

This is what makes design exciting and accessible, drawing public attention and interest to a field that traditionally has not been interesting to very many people.

People are starting to care more about design (as the attendance figures for July’s Design Festival show) but there are still many things holding Melbourne’s design culture back. Unlike Europe, where there are bigger markets, bigger companies and far more design organisations, designers and makers here often have to do the whole process, from design to manufacture, themselves, with little support and no guarantee that people will buy the product at the end.

However desirable handmade items may be to the consumer, it is not a profitable business. Without sizeable local manufacturers, designers have to take their business offshore or, in the case of independent craftspeople, spend a lot of their time simply making things, leaving less time to come up with new ideas and develop their brand.

These things aren’t all bad, however. Being so remote means Australia isn’t as influenced by what other people are doing as they are in Europe. Much of our originality is derived from this geographical quirk. There are also far less regulations here than in Europe, creating a culture where, according to Charlwood, ‘anything goes’.

In many ways Melbourne has the best of both worlds. The city is a lively, exciting place but it still manages to keep a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere. It’s big enough to have lots of different things to discover but small enough that it retains a sense of intimacy. The climate is cold enough to encourage creativity but not so cold that it makes life difficult.

Melbourne Design Market

A big part of Melbourne’s uniqueness also comes from the ‘Australian lifestyle’ that politicians always refer to in their speeches. It’s not all hot air. People here are generally pretty friendly, with the wonderful self-deprecating humour that makes it easy to engage with strangers and not take things too seriously.

Design in Melbourne may still in the developing stage, but there are a few areas that we have long been recognised to excel in. The quality of the jewellery program at RMIT has produced many of the country’s most renowned jewellers, many of whom have become hot commodities on the international art and design scene. Melbourne is also well known for the quality of its fashion designers, with some talented people, such as Toni Maticevski and Bettina Liano, being elevated to the elite world of high fashion.

The best thing about Melbourne’s design scene, however, is that it is focused on locals. The government made the mistake in the 80s of getting big international names to come do buildings in the CBD (the former version of Melbourne Central, for example) and it added nothing to the city; since then, the majority of projects have been designed and built by local companies.

To paraphrase Leon van Schaik, a prominent figure in Melbourne’s architectural world, cities only become design cities when they nurture local creativity, not when they import great works from elsewhere.

So, is Melbourne a design city? Maybe. Maybe not. It is a sufficiently vague term to mean whatever anyone wants it to mean. But who really cares. Melbourne is full of creative, determined individuals who are constantly shaping and reshaping the forms, sights and sounds of the city, allowing the rest of us to be surprised and delighted (or shocked and unimpressed) at what people come up with. There is always something new. In the end, labels are meaningless. It is what people experience that really matters.

“There’s more to Melbourne than this alley…”
- One man mumbling to another, Hosier Lane, August, 2009

Cool, cluttered and collected, Hosier Lane is one of Melbourne’s most obvious attractions. But unlike many of the city’s hidden or long-reaching laneways, Hosier provides an easily accessible example of how the council allows Melbourne’s minds to wander.

Framed at the Flinders Street end by the minaret of the Forum and lined with piss-addled doorways, the majority of the laneway’s allure arrives from its seductive sangria of street art: cartoons, shrooms, vampire faces, Brixton briefcase, girls, monsters and ninjas, laughing skulls and skeletal hugs. The lassoed layers of filth, tags and rags providing an uplifting array of stories, rhymes and lullabies to paralyse.

The art inside Hosier is part of the skunk works that is Citylights projects; an initiative run by Andrew Mac designed to corkscrew the concrete jungle into a series of street level canvasses fit for free public viewing.

The majority of the artwork is commissioned and/or approved by Citylights, with one of the key elements being the light boxes which are updated approximately every ten weeks. Due to the gonzo nature of graffiti, unauthorized work often appears, but that’s partly the point – without it the lane would be rat trapped and shackled. Citylight’s hard work in Hosier has earned the lane a reputation as one of Australia’s most important cultural attractions.

Halfway along Hosier is Rutledge Lane; a surrealistic Super Mario shoot off that sucks in the soul through a cluster bomb of creativity before cutting them adrift at the opposite end of the laneway. It is here that you find Until Never.

As an additional component of the Citylight’s process, the Until Never gallery regularly displays work from emerging underground artists located all over Australia. The theme is loose, experimental, conceptual, and never cut from main cloth. Until Never is open Wednesday-Saturday afternoons.

Hosier’s only bar, Misty, is one of those all-look and no-touch kind of rooms. Enticing, playful and teasing from the outside, slightly underwhelming on the inside. Tapas joint, MoVida, fills the laneway with saccharine scents of Spanish verandas, and with its señorita artwork, the restaurant and its speed freak kitchen adds a little light to the dark end of the street.

Weekends commonly see the laneway saturated with sound and fury: hot rods running and gunning their engines, drag queens fumbling with cell phones, street carp giggling in leather, bass notes rumbling from rooftops. The lane never tires, never ceases, always advances, always unleashes.

There may be more to Melbourne than the life that lies living and breathing in this alley, but for a newcomer it’s the starting gun for a sprint through the artistic side of the city. A way to engage and acquire, a direction to point and shoot – a tourist’s hand rail to hades, if you will.

One ugly day some greedhead might cunningly decide to glass off the daylight, brick up the entrance, charge a fee for exhibit and gain riches from canned free expression. Until that day, Hosier Lane will continue to marvel.

Reviewed: August, 2009

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Perennial and enduring, Tattersalls Lane has long been an icon of Melbourne cool: conflicted, cultured – east meets west. A shabby-looking scion that shoots off the busy Little Bourke St, it’s set right in the heart of Chinatown’s cluttered, messy furore. A sharp, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it left turn leads the unwary into typical, high-bricked walls lined with smatterings of old event posters.

Gaylord’s restaurant is the first thing you’ll notice – if not for the eye-catching name, then the bizarre photo terrace foyer – and works as an apt indication that, as an Indian restaurant in the heart of China Town, Tattersalls Lane is one that doesn’t care much for convention. Further north is underdog restaurant Shanghai Noodle House, tired and vacant from playing second fiddle to the maddening, loud genius of its main competition, Shanghai Dumpling.

Most Melburnians are all too aware of Shanghai Dumpling’s charm and allure – it’s evidenced clearly by the snaking queues on Friday and Saturday nights. The place is lit like a Kmart, the service is terrible (don’t take it personally), but the food is fantastic. It’s cheap, too: the frugal diner often walks out well-fed for a fiver (sans beer, of course).

But it’s the little things that make Shanghai Dumpling worth it: the over-zealous doorman Jimmy – whose vocabulary extends only to numbers and his volume set only to ‘bracingly loud’; the awful covers of forgotten 90s popular music, or worse, butchered classics; and, of course, the offensively loud, conversation-disturbing ‘happy birthday’ song – so annoyingly hilarious that it always prompts diners to dob their friends in. Shanghai Dumpling is an institution, really, and one that, to its credit, refuses to change albeit its popularity. Here’s hoping it never does.

Tattersalls Lane’s next surprise is Section 8. A renovated car park, it’s a corrugated, rusty and effortlessly cool iron jungle, right down to the mesh fence, the mess of steel girders and the bar – a hacked, painted shipping container. All this is softened with clever oriental touches, as statues, parasols and lanterns sit, spring and hang around the wooden pallet seats. These are sprinkled with cushions and make for a surprisingly comfortable, unique Melbourne bar experience. Like neighbour Shanghai Dumpling, it too may be a victim of its own popularity; if you intend to make it your bar on a Friday or Saturday night, get there early.

Pass over Stevenson Lane – there a few interesting pieces of street art, but ultimately, its focus is waste disposal – walk up through the evergreen walls and suddenly you’re at Lonsdale St, a world away from where you just were: a little avenue of contradiction, juxtaposition and a reminder of what it is, after all, what makes Melbourne great.

Reviewed: May 2009

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From its dignified bluestone pavement to its antiquated nineteenth century buildings, Bank Pl is perhaps Melbourne’s most handsome laneway. In fact, it’s so impressive, so beautiful, that’d you be forgiven for thinking you’ve just rounded the corner into Europe.

There’s the lamp posts – standing in a neat row, forged from elegant iron and entwined with peeling gold laurels – the beautiful Charter House – its title engraved carefully above the majestic building’s entrance – and plenty of places to sit underneath whispering plane trees as you watch the business crowd pour in for after-work drinks.

Undoubtedly, Bank Pl’s most spectacular feature is its pub – the Mitre Tavern. Situated on Mitre La – one of Bank Pl’s many cul-de-sacs – it’s a tidy, double-story, English-style drinking hole that sits underneath the looming resplendence of Collins Street’s prominent buildings.

The date of its construction is unclear, though it was at least prior to 1850, apparently. Officially, the pub was coined ‘The Mitre Tavern’ in 1867, and has been serving beer and food ever since. According to its menu, it’s the oldest building in Melbourne – which makes drinking in the large beer garden a reflective affair, as one imagines what the pub has seen as Melbourne rose from the ground around it.

Up the lane, there’re some apartments (the residents of which have decorated the steel stairs appended with splashes of green plants), an underground bar called Marakech, and a decent café on the corner that’s worth it just for the chance to have a coffee in the lane outside.

For true Melbourne grandeur, nothing beats Bank Pl.

Reviewed: December 2008.

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Gone are the disjointed, eccentric facades that typify so many of Melbourne’s alleys – this is Equitable Pl: sleek, modern, and alluring.

Situated near the corner of Collins and Elizabeth, the laneway is sandwiched between two corporate monoliths. Its entrance has been refashioned to smother its incongruity, and, as such, you’d be forgiven for presuming this alley was now the foyer into the large headquarters that surround it.

Once you pass through the corridor – windows into Henry Bucks and other upscale stores – you’ll notice how much you feel you’re in the city. The Commonwealth Bank building looms ahead of you, you’re surrounded by coats and scarves – it’s as though you’re walking through the pipeline of Melbourne’s corporate machine. Equitable Pl is a laneway that means business.

The proliferation of functional alleys can’t really bad a bad thing, however, as business has paved the way (literally) for a laneway that does host some surprises.

There are a dozen shops – boutiques, eateries, and more – that cater to mixed clientele. Equitable Pl thrives on its lunch business, proving a tempting distraction to businessmen and women that descend from above Melbourne’s skyline. Cheap eats are surprisingly easy to come across, however, and the cuisine varied.

There’s Monster Burger – as advertised by the hapless costumed pamphlet-bearing employee on Elizabeth’s corner; and Spudbar – the healthy baked potato dispenser growing a good reputation.

As surrounded as you are by formalist aesthetics – Equitable Pl’s dignified lines are smooth but not extravagant – there’s comfort in that mismatched flight of fire escape stairs that climb the buildings above, and reassurance in the littered blind alley that your eye isn’t supposed to see. You can sanitize a Melbourne laneway all you like, but you can’t completely extinguish its charm.

Equitable Pl is, at its core, an enjoyable exercise in measured interference.

Reviewed: September 2008

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