Property of the week: 33 Hilltop Rd, Avalon Beach

There are no points for guessing why Peter Stutchbury labelled his Avalon Beach creation Treetop House as the elevated home sits seemingly suspended over the leafy peninsula suburb.

With mature spotted gums and casuarinas as a permanent backdrop framing Pittwater in the distance, the three-bedroom residence is a perfectly preserved early career example of the Australian Institute of Architects Gold Medal award-winner.

Finished in 1993, Treetop House was built just below an ancient ridge-line above picturesque Pittwater playing homage to its raw bushland setting and water views. The property has earned its architectural stripes, having appeared in various design publications including Architectural Digest celebrating Stutchbury for his visionary use of industrial materials, all while maintaining a deep connection to the landscape.

Vendors Ben and Kirsten Welsh, who work in the advertising and film industries, bought the Avalon home in 2018 after already experiencing life in a starchitect’s design.

“We used to live in a Bill Lucas house in Castlecrag and through being there, we really discovered how living in a home designed by a really good architect was something you had to experience. So when the kids grew up and moved out, we found ourselves looking at houses around Pittwater by Peter Stutchbury, Glenn Murcutt and Richard Leplastrier,” Ben said.

“It’s a magical house. One of the most amazing things is that you feel as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist once you’re in it, because you’re higher up than you would normally be. You’re up in the tree canopy on a hill so you get terrific views and a sense of isolation, but at the same time you can just walk to the shops.”

The aptly named Treehouse sits among the canopy.

Despite having fallen in love with the neighbourhood, the Welshes are leaving Sydney to be closer to family in Victoria. They have, however, found one savvy way to keep the memory of their preferred Northern Beaches suburb alive by recently launching their own drop, Avalon Wine Company.

Treetop House is anchored by a 6m vertical blockwork tower acting as a structural core grounding the entire property. Above this, a cantilevered timber platform forms the top floor main living level housing the everyday family zone opening to balconies on both sides and the lush treetops.

The house feels open to the elements thanks to the deep balconies.

“The house is a lesson in architecture. What’s incredible about a great building is not looking at it from outside, but looking at the world from within. That’s when you can really appreciate great architecture. Anyone can do an interesting design and stick it somewhere nice but with this place, because there are a lot of windows, every angle has something to look at that’s quite remarkable,” Ben says, adding that although the couple had done little to the Stutchbury design during their residency, they had introduced more than 1000 plants to the 1071sq m block.

“There’s a kind of tamed wildness to the planting and the environment, with big rocks and trees that are not all the same. We’ve been very careful not to create anything too formal.”

The material palette of Treetop House also includes interiors styled to suit the surrounding landscape including oiled tallowwood floors, polished plywood joinery and a Jarrah staircase.

In addition to the primary living space, kitchen and dining area, the upper level is also home to two bedrooms with a shared walk-in wardrobe and a full spa bathroom. On the middle level a separated main bedroom suite has an ensuite and built-ins while the lower level has a bonus multipurpose family room or home office with ensuite. All three floors are accessible by lift.

The house is close to Clarevill Beach, Long Beach, Taylors Point Wharf and Avalon Sailing Club as well as Angophora Reserve.

Treetop House has a price guide of $4.5 million and is on the market via private treaty through LJ Hooker Avalon Beach agents Thomas Mackay on 0429 236 879

Many luxury hotels only build on their gilded reputations with each passing decade. But others are less fortunate. Here are five long-gone grandes dames that fell from grace—and one that persists, but in a significantly diminished form.

The Proto-Marmont |

The Garden of Allah, Los Angeles

A magnet for celebrities, the Garden of Allah was once the scene-making equivalent of today’s Chateau Marmont. Frank Sinatra and Ava Gardner’s affair allegedly started there and Humphrey Bogart lived in one of its bungalows for a time.

Crimean expat Alla Nazimova leased a grand home in Hollywood after World War I, but soon turned it into a hotel, where she prioritised glamorous clientele. Others risked being ejected by guards and a fearsome dog dubbed the Hound of the Baskervilles. Demolished in the 1950s, the site’s now a parking lot.

The Failed Follow-Up |

Hotel Astor, New York City

The Astor family hoped to repeat their success when they opened this sequel to their megahit Waldorf Astoria hotel in 1904. It became an anchor of the nascent Theater District, buzzy (and naughty) enough to inspire Cole Porter to write in “High Society”: “Have you heard that Mimsie Starr…got pinched in the Astor Bar?”

That bar soon gained another reputation. “Gentlemen who preferred the company of other gentlemen would meet in a certain section of the bar,” said travel expert Henry Harteveldt of consulting firm Atmosphere Research. By the 1960s, the hotel had lost its lustre and was demolished; the 54-storey One Astor Plaza skyscraper was built in its place.

The Island Playground |

Santa Carolina Hotel, Bazaruto Archipelago, Mozambique

In the 1950s, colonial officers around Africa treated Mozambique as an off-duty playground. They flocked, in particular, to the Santa Carolina, a five-star hotel on a gorgeous archipelago off the country’s southern coast.

Run by a Portuguese businessman and his wife, the resort included an airstrip that ferried visitors in and out. Ask locals why the place was eventually reduced to rubble, and some whisper that the couple were cursed—and that’s why no one wanted to take over when the business collapsed in the ’70s. Today, seeing the abandoned, crumbled ruins and murals bleached by the sun, it’s hard to dismiss their superstitions entirely.

The Tourism Gimmick |

Bali Hai Raiatea, French Polynesia

The overwater bungalow, a shorthand for barefoot luxury around the world, began in French Polynesia—but not with the locals. Instead, it was a marketing gimmick cooked up by a trio of rascally Americans. They moved to French Polynesia in the late 1950s, and soon tried to capitalise on the newly built international airport and a looming tourism boom.

That proved difficult because their five-room hotel on the island of Raiatea lacked a beach. They devised a fix: building rooms on pontoons above the water. They were an instant phenomenon, spreading around the islands and the world—per fan site OverwaterBungalows.net , there are now more than 9,000 worldwide, from the Maldives to Mexico. That first property, though, is no more.

The New England Holdout |

Poland Springs Resort, Poland, Maine

The Ricker family started out as innkeepers, running a stagecoach stop in Maine in the 1790s. When Hiram Ricker took over the operation, the family expanded into the business by which it would make its fortune: water. Thanks to savvy marketing, by the 1870s, doctors were prescribing Poland Spring mineral water and die-hards were making pilgrimages to the source.

The Rickers opened the Poland Spring House in 1876, and eventually expanded it to include one of the earliest resort-based golf courses in the country, a barber shop, dance studio and music hall. By the turn of the century, it was among the most glamorous resort complexes in New England.

Mismanagement eventually forced its sale in 1962, and both the water operation and hospitality holdings went through several owners and operators. While the water venture retains its prominence, the hotel has weathered less well, becoming a pleasant—but far from luxurious—mid-market resort. Former NYU hospitality professor Bjorn Hanson says attempts at upgrading over the decades have been futile. “I was a consultant to a developer in the 1970s to return the resort to its ‘former glory,’ but it never happened.”