Crowbars on the Cliffs! It’s XX XX!

It’s on again.

Last year ended with a kaleidoscope of views about where the market might be heading. 

This year?

No-one, including us, came close to predicting the numbers hitting the ceilings of South Yarra, Red Hill or Clifftop Portsea (which is a suburb apart) — and that’s not including vendors who will need crowbars to move.

Or the sudden acres in Toorak.

Snorkelling for treasure

Out of sight, in the depths, we’ve had the busiest January since forever. All off-market. Nothing to show.

If you exclude a number of discrete smiles.

Bathing Box — Portsea
Just a spare $1,200,000+

What’s coming? Check the temperature in Portsea.

For thirty years plus, what happens in Clifftop Portsea in January has been the most reliable indicator of what to expect in Salubria in the months which follow.

Let’s start with the ludicrous.

A bathing box. Room to swing one cat, but not two.

Best offers by 5pm.

Bang. Sold for $1.2m+ (it’s undisclosed).

A comfortable 200k+ above the previous record holder.

The mops are out

Hangover homes from last year finding buyers — typically buyers upping rather than vendors downing. Usually a sign of a solidifying market.

Take a breath. Now take another.

That huge block on St Georges Road. Is there a local billionaire left who hasn’t made an enquiry?

40 years of not interested.

Now there’s talk that it may be coming to the party. The ultimate market indicator?

Is $75m burning a hole in your pocket?


High profile CEO. One property sold and another appears, very quietly. 

Renovator’s Delight.

Sold. $19.2m, in South Yarra.

What’s Up?

Two vacant Trak tracts (sorry) bought by offshore players who are yet to make their plans known. Neighbouring brows are furrowed.

New players at $4-8m

Are some banks loosening their purse strings?

What’s the holdup?

We have more buyers than ever and more sellers asking for more more more than can be believed.

Too many are reading about records and waiting to set their own.

And waiting. And waiting. 

They risk becoming the wallflowers of Easter. 

We’ve seen it before. When Winter beckons, it all turns desperate.


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