From the shacks of yesterday to the sculptural sanctuaries of today, Australia’s coastal architecture has matured into a global benchmark for design.
4 min
In the land down under, the beach is in our DNA. So is it any wonder that Australian architecture is leading the world in luxury coastal design?
With about 85 per cent of our population living within 50 kilometres of the coastline, we’ve perfected the art of the beach house. Yet over the past two decades, there’s been a sophisticated shift in the traditional coastal cottage.
The residential revolution that has washed over our most valuable waterfront locations has replaced the original weatherboard “shacks” by the sea with a contemporary design movement shaped by admiration and respect for the natural environment.
No longer simply about the view, today’s coastal architecture is about creating beautiful homes that perform seamlessly in an increasingly volatile climate while meeting the rising tide of high-net-worth buyers who want it all.
From infinity pools to wellbeing spaces that connect with nature, one-time weekenders have been transformed into permanent escapes, providing year-round indulgence.
An island home
Belgian-born, Tasmania-based architect Lara Maeseele believes the quintessential coastal home has become a finely tuned instrument. With more vacant land to experiment with, and lower entry prices, she says the Apple Isle is perfectly placed for architects and homeowners to explore the new-age beach house.
“A highlight in Tassie is you can find these amazing vacant blocks on the coastline, and still be blown away by the unexpected views,” she says.
Having studied in Belgium and worked in London, Maeseele brings a northern European minimalist sensibility to the Australian beach house.
“Our way of life is so complex. When we get home, it’s nice to slow down, to declutter and find some peace and quiet.”
Nebraska House on Bruny Island took home the 2025 HIA Tasmanian Home of the Year and earned a commendation at the Houses Awards, but Maeseele still affectionately refers to her design overlooking the D’Entrecasteaux Channel as a “shack.”
“What we tried to do was make sure that from the foreshore, it was kept small and consistent with the neighbouring properties, and that’s the luxury element that I see in the shack. It sits quietly in its setting.”
With a water backdrop from most rooms, she says the ocean was a primary player when designing the house, but light was just as important for the clients.
“Both the western and eastern elevations slide wide open so it feels like a bit of an umbrella,” she says. “Then in winter, it’s fully insulated and glazed. When the sun sets, you have the most beautiful evenings, feeling cosy and sheltered while watching the wind and water outside.”
True to her European roots, Maeseele believes that when it comes to aesthetically pleasing and functional coastal design, the less-is-more approach should drive every project.
“We’re on an island, so we’re very aware any build leaves an impact,” she says. “We chose lightweight materials so, in the end, the house could be dismantled and the timber reused.”
Thriving by the sea
Sydney architect Jon King, who has designed both beach houses and boutique hotels, says the new generation of coastal design is a balancing act between luxury and environment.
Even in today’s dazzling designs, he believes comfort should still overshadow spectacle.
“If you’re going to make an exceptional beach house, it has to adapt. It needs to be beautiful when the sun is shining and the whales are jumping out of the water, but the next day it needs to withstand horrendous southerlies and wild storms,” he says.
“The material choices are vital because they need to look great, but last in that salty environment and in extreme winds and rain.”
What was once the domain of fibro cottages has developed into a sea of enviable, state-of-the-art designs.
“For a long time, we lived simply in beach environments because the land was cheap and our buildings were unsophisticated. But now, living on the coast has become coveted, even fetishised. People are making statements through architecture, and that changes everything.”
He says that in an effort to connect with nature, the temptation can be to build with vast walls of glass to capture the ultimate panorama, but subtle design can be more successful when it gives the dramatic backdrop a curated cameo.
“Most coastal locations are suburban in nature with small blocks and neighbours either side, so you can’t always get the view you want,” he says.
“But you can frame it beautifully rather than opening everything up to the elements.”
Cheyne Fox of White Fox Gold Coast, who has recently listed one of only two houses on Hayman Island in the Whitsundays, agrees that Australia’s coastal homes are unparalleled.
“Gone are the days when people wanted their properties to stand out and look at odds with the surrounds. Today’s luxury designs are very much about fitting in,” Fox says.
The Residence at Hayman spans three levels and offers more than 1,400 square metres of internal and external living space.
Designed by the late, internationally renowned architect Kerry Hill, it also features breezeways, terraces and an infinity pool designed to embrace the subtropical environment.
“When you get to Hayman Island, you get calico bags. There are no plastic bottles or even cars. There is a true respect for the environment, being so close to the Great Barrier Reef. And as such, the architecture reflects that ethos.”
She says high-net-worth buyers will pay top dollar for such indulgent and considered coastal designs.
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime proposition for a purchaser, but also a once-in-a-lifetime proposition for an agent.”
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Weary of ‘smart’ everything, Americans are craving stylish ‘analog rooms’ free of digital distractions—and designers are making them a growing trend.
5 min
James and Ellen Patterson are hardly Luddites. But the couple, who both work in tech, made an unexpectedly old-timey decision during the renovation of their 1928 Washington, D.C., home last year.
The Pattersons had planned to use a spacious unfinished basement room to store James’s music equipment, but noticed that their children, all under age 21, kept disappearing down there to entertain themselves for hours without the aid of tablets or TVs.
Inspired, the duo brought a new directive to their design team.
The subterranean space would become an “analog room”: a studiously screen-free zone where the family could play board games together, practice instruments, listen to records or just lounge about lazily, undistracted by devices.
For decades, we’ve celebrated the rise of the “smart home”—knobless, switchless, effortless and entirely orchestrated via apps.
But evidence suggests that screen-free “dumb” spaces might be poised for a comeback.
Many smart-home features are losing their luster as they raise concerns about surveillance and, frankly, just don’t function.
New York designer Christine Gachot said she’d never have to work again “if I had a dollar for every time I had a client tell me ‘my smart music system keeps dropping off’ or ‘I can’t log in.’ ”
Google searches for “how to reduce screen time” reached an all-time high in 2025. In the past four years on TikTok, videos tagged #AnalogLife—cataloging users’ embrace of old technology, physical media and low-tech lifestyles—received over 76 million views.
And last month, Architectural Digest reported on nostalgia for old-school tech : “landline in hand, cord twirled around finger.”
Catherine Price, author of “ How to Break Up With Your Phone,” calls the trend heartening.
“People are waking up to the idea that screens are getting in the way of real life interactions and taking steps through design choices to create an alternative, places where people can be fully present,” said Price, whose new book “ The Amazing Generation ,” co-written with Jonathan Haidt, counsels tweens and kids on fun ways to escape screens.
From both a user and design perspective, the Pattersons consider their analog room a success.
Freed from the need to accommodate an oversize television or stuff walls with miles of wiring, their design team—BarnesVanze Architects and designer Colman Riddell—could get more creative, dividing the space into discrete music and game zones.
Ellen’s octogenarian parents, who live nearby, often swing by for a round or two of the Stock Market Game, an eBay-sourced relic from Ellen’s childhood that requires calculations with pen and paper.
In the music area, James’s collection of retro Fender and Gibson guitars adorn walls slicked with Farrow & Ball’s Card Room Green , while the ceiling is papered with a pattern that mimics the organic texture of vintage Fender tweed.
A trio of collectible amps cluster behind a standing mic—forming a de facto stage where family and friends perform on karaoke nights. Built-in cabinets display a Rega turntable and the couple’s vinyl record collection.
“Playing a game with family or doing your own little impromptu karaoke is just so much more joyful than getting on your phone and scrolling for 45 minutes,” said James.
“Dumb” design will likely continue to gather steam, said Hans Lorei, a designer in Nashville, Tenn., as people increasingly treat their homes “less as spaces to optimise and more as spaces to retreat.”
Case in point: The top-floor nook that designer Jeanne Hayes of Camden Grace Interiors carved out in her Connecticut home as an “offline-office” space.
Her desk? A periwinkle beanbag chair paired with an ottoman by Jaxx. “I hunker down here when I need to escape distractions from the outside world,” she explained.
“Sometimes I’m scheming designs for a project while listening to vinyl, other times I’m reading the newspaper in solitude. When I’m in here without screens, I feel more peaceful and more productive at the same time—two things that rarely go hand in hand.”
A subtle archway marks the transition into designer Zoë Feldman’s Washington, D.C., rosy sunroom—a serene space she conceived as a respite from the digital demands of everyday life.
Used for reading and quiet conversation, it “reinforces how restorative it can be to be physically present in a room without constant input,” the designer said.
Laura Lubin, owner of Nashville-based Ellerslie Interiors, transformed a tiny guest bedroom in her family’s cottage into her own “wellness room,” where she retreats for sound baths, massages and reflection.
“Without screens, the room immediately shifts your nervous system. You’re not multitasking or consuming, you’re just present,” said Lubin.
As a designer, she’s fielding requests from clients for similar spaces that support mental health and rest, she said.
“People are overstimulated and overscheduled,” she explained. “Homes are no longer just places to live—they’re expected to actively support well-being.”
Designer Molly Torres Portnof of New York’s DATE Interiors adopted the same brief when she designed a music room for her husband, owner of the labels Greenway Records and Levitation, in their Lido Beach, N.Y. home. He goes there nightly to listen to records or play his guitar.
The game closet from the townhouse in “The Royal Tenenbaums”? That idea is back too, says Gachot. Last year she designed an epic game room backed by a rock climbing wall for a young family in Montana.
When you’re watching a show or on your phone, “it’s a solo experience for the most part,” the designer said. “The family really wanted to encourage everybody to do things together.”
Don’t have the space—or the budget—to kit out an entire retro rec room?
“There are a lot of small tweaks you can make even if you don’t have the time, energy or budget to design a fully analog room from scratch,” said Price.
Gachot says “the small things in people’s lives are cues of what the bigger trends are.”
More of her clients, she’s noticed, have been requesting retrograde staples, such as analog clocks and magazine racks.
For her Los Angeles living room, chef Sara Kramer sourced a vintage piano from Craigslist to be the room’s centerpiece, rather than sacrifice its design to the dominant black box of a smart TV. Alabama designer Lauren Conner recently worked with a client who bought a home with a rotary phone.
Rather than rip it out, she decided to keep it up and running, adding a silver receiver cover embellished with her grandmother’s initials.
Some throwback accessories aren’t so subtle. Melia Marden was browsing listings from the Public Sale Auction House in Hudson, N.Y. when she spotted a phone booth from Bell Systems circa the late 1950s and successfully bid on it for a few hundred dollars.
“It was a pandemic impulse buy,” said Marden.
In 2023, she and her husband, Frank Sisti Jr., began working with designer Elliot Meier and contractor ReidBuild to integrate the booth into what had been a hallway linen closet in their Brooklyn townhouse.
Canadian supplier Old Phone Works refurbished the phone and sold them the pulse-to-tone converter that translates the rotary dial to a modern phone line.
The couple had collected a vintage whimsical animal-adorned wallpaper (featured in a different colourway in “Pee-wee’s Playhouse”) and had just enough to cover the phone booth’s interior.
Their children, ages 9 and 11, don’t have their own phones, so use the booth to communicate with family. It’s also become a favorite spot for hiding away with a stack of Archie comic books.
The booth has brought back memories of meandering calls from Marden’s own youth—along with some of that era’s simple joy. As Meier puts it: “It’s got this magical wardrobe kind of feeling.”
