Living in St Kilda is like living in New York’s East Village – or as close as it gets

And while it’s true that St Kilda is a suburb where the homeless rub shoulders with the nouveau riche, in my mind it retains its bohemian grittiness by virtue of the socio-economic diversity of its inhabitants. There’s still plenty of poverty here, evident in the homeless sleeping on Fitzroy and Acland streets and the daily queues at Sacred Heart soup kitchen. We live side-by-side with drug users and sex workers who are also part of our community’s fabric.

The longer I’ve lived here, the more I’ve become drawn into the hidden magic of St Kilda’s village-like community, which is visible when you scratch beneath its rough surfaces. There are the old Russian ladies who share their life stories as we soak in the thermal spa at the St Kilda Sea Baths, and Dave at my local cafe who knows my name and always offers friendly greetings. St Kilda is awash with characters from near and far who have chosen this gem as their home.

But it’s the realness of St Kilda that grounds it and keeps it from tipping over the edge into generic gentrification. Give me that any day over an endless parade of SUVs and absurdly overpriced Victorian terraces (although in fairness, we do have those too).

St Kilda in the past 20 years also became derided as Melbourne’s ground zero for backpackers. They come from all over the globe – the UK, Ireland, Colombia, Brazil – you name it. They can at times be bloody annoying (try navigating through drunken packs of Brits behaving like soccer hooligans down Grey Street at midnight, or the stench of piss out the front of your home on a Sunday morning – not that it can always be blamed on backpackers) but they add much to St Kilda’s transient, youthful energy.

And yes, we’ve all heard the stereotypes about homeless people in laneways and syringes on St Kilda beach (something I’ve never once witnessed). People love to bitch about St Kilda, but most locals believe it’s the best place to live in the world. The truth lies somewhere in between. It’s a suburb where we take the good with the bad.

Like many shopping strips across Melbourne, many Acland and Fitzroy Street shopfronts have remained empty or had a churn of tenants since COVID. Some lay the blame with the closure of Acland Street to cars; others blame the explosion in online shopping and rising rents. Port Phillip Council has tried to curb this problem in Fitzroy Street with its Renew program that has given over empty shopfronts to artisans to increase foot traffic and bring life back. Acland Street may need to adopt a similar approach if it is to return to its former glory.

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The charms of St Kilda are found in simple daily pleasures, like hearing the scenic railway rattling around Luna Park as it has since 1912, a daily trip to the foreshore to glimpse the sunsets across Port Phillip Bay, visiting the little penguins at the end of the pier, eating a chocolate kugelhopf from Monarch Cakes, reading a book in the botanic gardens or strolling along Fitzroy Street on a warm evening as it teems with people, music and food into the wee hours.

On such nights one gets the fleeting sense that life here is comparable to living in New York’s East Village, or at least as close as you’re likely to get in Oz. While walking with my partner on the Esplanade one of those nights, a spruiker offered us at-cost tickets to see US singer Rodriguez – one of my favourite all-time performers – playing that night at the Palais. Only in St Kilda!

For a boy from the ’burbs, St Kilda quenched my desire for a more worldly life – and I’m still hooked.

James Norman is a freelance writer.

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