The modern beach shack that almost turned its back on the view

When architect Kirsty Hewitt first looked along the street where this award-winning Adelaide property is now situated, one thing stood out.

“There’s just unending empty balconies on this frontage,” she says.

While outdoor spaces are understandable inclusions for properties that enjoy an exceptional view, these had failed to hit the mark in terms of useability.

Because, while the view — the point of convergence for the River Torrens (also known as Karrawirra Parri) and the ocean — is indeed a drawcard, it is also to the west where the sun is strongest.

“It was finding a balance between opening to that view, which was west south west, and managing the weather,” she says. “The sunsets are amazing but in summer, the western coastal frontage is hammered, right where you want the view.

“It’s also where all the cold weather comes across the ocean, as well as the wind and rain.”

Solving this design puzzle was one of several challenges this block presented for KHAB Architects, which was part of a subdivision.

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“The clients bought the skinny portion that had been cleared and someone else had built a large house on the northern side,” she says.

After some discussion, and considering the planning regulations which limited the height of the property, and the noise from the traffic along the busy street between their block and the water, the clients decided on a design that would be about one third of the size of their neighbour’s home.

“The big draw was the amazing ocean view across this opening where the river enters the ocean,” Hewitt says. “It was on the south side adjoining the reserve along that river, with native vegetation. But it was a 8.5m site and in Adelaide, we’re not used to something that narrow so it was a very skinny site to achieve all the things the clients wanted.”

Instead of excavating into the site as some other properties along the row had done, Hewitt designed a house that looked as though it had emerged out of the sand dune. Working on the Indigenous principle popularised by legendary architect Glenn Murcutt of touching the earth lightly, Hewitt sought to resolve the tension between the desire for the view and the need for privacy with a lightweight building that still delivered the functionality the owners required.

The idea of a balcony facing onto the water was the first thing to go. Instead, Hewitt proposed placing a slightly raised, enclosed living room at the front of the house and positioning a double glazed window to frame the view and minimise noise. The owners took some convincing.

“The clients wanted floor-to-ceiling windows but if we did that, they would see the traffic, and the house next door and it would not emphasise the ocean in the way they imagined,” Hewitt says. “We experimented with masking tape and worked out ways to emphasise the horizon from the living room when you’re seated, and then from the kitchen when you’re standing.”

To create some outdoor living space, Hewitt cut out an internal timber deck with a curved opening above down the southern side of the house that was protected from the wind while acting as a sun trap and providing views of the ocean.

Corrugated steel has been used extensively to reference the old beach shacks once common along the Australian coastline, as well as to allow for a considerable amount of design flexibility.

“We wanted to create a shell over the parts of the house that needed to be protected,” Hewitt says. “We wanted to use the corrugated material to morph from roof to wall, and then parts of it to peel off to become the fence to the south.

“In some places it has this strategic ‘bite of the apple’ where it reveals the inner material, which is the timber on the deck inside, like the flesh of the apple.”

The house has been heavily insulated for thermal comfort all year round, while the spaces have been designed to be flexible now, and into the future.

“We wanted to create different qualities with the living spaces. One has the view and the other is the only room in the house that sits on slab with a connection to the rear yard,” she says. “The clients didn’t have children when they came to us but they now have two babies. The kids’ rooms both have lofts, which they can’t use yet, but they will grow into them.”

Hewitt thinks of the house as the new kid on the block that can hold its own against its bolder and brasher neighbours.

“We were so thankful that our clients were on board with the concept of a smaller footprint,” she says. “The budget was not enormous and we wanted the money we had to go into quality rather than quantity. We wanted to be as clever as we could.”

Images: Peter Barnes

For decades, Australia has leaned into its reputation as the lucky country. But luck, as it turns out, is not an economic strategy.

What once looked like resilience now appears increasingly fragile. Beneath the surface of rising property values and steady headline growth, the Australian economy is showing signs of strain that can no longer be ignored.

Recent data paints a sobering picture. Australia has recorded one of the largest declines in real household disposable income per capita among advanced economies.

Wages have failed to keep pace with inflation, meaning many Australians are working harder for less. On a per capita basis, income growth has stalled and, at times, reversed.

And yet, on paper, things still look relatively solid. GDP is growing. Unemployment remains low. But that growth is increasingly being driven by population expansion rather than productivity.

More people are contributing to output, but not necessarily improving living standards.

That distinction matters.

For years, Australia’s economic success rested on a powerful combination: a once-in-a-generation mining boom, a credit-fuelled housing market, strong migration and a property sector that rarely faltered. Between 1991 and 2020, the country avoided recession entirely, building enormous wealth in the process.

But much of that wealth is tied to property. Around two-thirds of household wealth sits in real estate, inflated by leverage and sustained by demand. It has worked, until now.

The problem is the supply side of the economy has not kept up.

Housing supply is falling behind population growth. Rental vacancies are near record lows.

Construction firms are collapsing at an elevated rate. At the same time, massive infrastructure pipelines are competing with residential projects for labour and materials, pushing costs higher and delaying delivery.

The result is a system under pressure from all angles.

Despite near full employment, productivity growth has stagnated for years. In simple terms, Australians are putting in more hours without generating more output per hour. The economy is running faster, butgoing nowhere.

Meanwhile, government spending continues to expand. Public debt is approaching $1 trillion, with spending now accounting for a record share of GDP.

The gap between spending and revenue has been filled by borrowing for decades, adding further pressure to an already stretched system.

This is where the uncomfortable question emerges.

Has Australia become too reliant on a model driven by rising property values, expanding credit and population growth?

As asset prices rise, households feel wealthier and borrow more. Banks lend more. Governments collect more revenue. Migration fuels demand. The cycle reinforces itself.

But when productivity stalls and debt outpaces real income, the system begins to depend on constant expansion just to stay stable.

It is not a collapse scenario. But it is not particularly stable either.

Nowhere is this more evident than in housing.

The National Housing Accord targets 1.2 million new homes over five years, yet current completion rates are well below that pace. With approvals falling and construction costs rising, the gap between supply and demand is widening, not narrowing.

Housing is also one of the largest contributors to inflation, with costs rising sharply across rents, construction and utilities. Yet the private sector, from small investors to major developers, is struggling to make projects stack up in the current environment.

This brings the policy debate into sharper focus.

Tax settings such as negative gearing and capital gains concessions have undoubtedly boosted demand over the past two decades. But they have also supported supply. Removing them may ease prices briefly, but risks deepening the supply shortage over time.

That is the paradox.

Policies designed to make housing more affordable can, in practice, make the shortage worse if they discourage development. The optics may appeal, but the economics are far less forgiving.

It is also worth remembering that most property investors are not institutional players. The majority own just one investment property. They are, in many cases, ordinary Australians using real estate as their primary wealth-building tool.

Undermining that system without replacing it with a viable alternative risks unintended consequences, from reduced supply to higher rents and increased inflation.

So where does that leave Australia?

At a crossroads.

The country can continue to rely on population growth and rising asset prices to drive economic activity. Or it can shift towards a model built on productivity, innovation and sustainable growth.

The latter is harder. It requires structural reform, long-term thinking and political discipline.

But it is also the only path that leads to genuine, lasting prosperity.

The question is no longer whether Australia has been lucky.

It is whether it can evolve before that luck runs out.

Paul Miron is the Co-Founder & Fund Manager of Msquared Capital.

The modern beach shack that almost turned its back on the view

This unassuming house emerges from the sand dunes to punch above its weight

As housing drives wealth and policy debate, the real risk is an economy hooked on growth without productivity to sustain it.