The Curious Case of Melbourne's Ghost Suburbs: When is a Suburb Not Really a Suburb?
The other day, a fascinating discussion caught my eye about Melbourne’s “ghost suburbs” - those peculiar pockets of our city that technically exist on paper but seem to float in a strange liminal space between reality and urban legend. It got me thinking about how we define our neighbourhoods and the quirky ways our city has evolved.
Take Travancore, for instance. Most people think it’s just that one fancy apartment building near the IGA on Mount Alexander Road, but it’s actually a tiny pocket with a fascinating history of Indian-named streets. The suburb is a testament to Melbourne’s historical connections to India, named after the former princely state of Travancore. Yet most Melburnians would struggle to point it out on a map.
Then there’s the contentious case of Cremorne - that sliver of land wedged between CityLink and Swan Street that only became officially recognised in 1999. Working in tech, I’ve noticed how this pocket has become Melbourne’s answer to Silicon Valley, with countless startups and digital agencies calling it home. Yet every time someone says they live in Cremorne, there’s always that one person who insists “it’s just Richmond.”
The ‘3004 Melbourne’ situation particularly amuses me. It’s that odd stretch of St Kilda Road that’s technically “Melbourne” but isn’t the CBD. Corporate giants love using this address because it lets them claim a Melbourne headquarters without actually being in the city proper. It’s like a geographic sleight of hand that everyone just accepts.
Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of these ghost suburbs is how they reflect our city’s evolving identity. Some, like Deepdene, are literally just a few blocks but command eye-watering property prices. Others, like South Kensington, seem to exist primarily as a train station where commuters accidentally alight when they meant to go somewhere else.
The whole concept reminds me of those old European cities where neighbourhood boundaries were drawn centuries ago based on parish lines or long-forgotten property disputes. Melbourne might be relatively young, but we’ve managed to create our own urban mythology through these contested spaces and debatable borders.
Looking at the larger picture, these quirky suburban anomalies speak to something deeper about urban development and community identity. In an era where we’re constantly debating housing density and urban sprawl, these micro-suburbs offer interesting case studies in how we might reimagine our city’s spaces.
Maybe these ghost suburbs serve a purpose beyond mere geographical designation. They’re conversation starters, markers of local history, and reminders that cities are living, breathing entities that don’t always conform to neat administrative boundaries. In a way, their very questionable existence makes Melbourne a more interesting place to live.
Next time someone tells me they live in one of these contested spaces, I might just nod knowingly instead of launching into the usual debate about whether their suburb actually exists. After all, in a city as dynamic as ours, perhaps it’s these little geographical oddities that keep things interesting.