Long before cafes and coastal trails made this corner of Sydney a coveted enclave, a humble sandstone semi stood calmly above Manly.
Known as Fairlight Maison, it has kept watch for more than 160 years – its hand-chipped walls holding firm as the world shifted around it.
For Jay Jay Nguyen, who has called it home for the past 25 years, the house has been more than a residence.
It’s been a companion. A quiet constant. A place where love, life, and memory have layered over time.
“When I first stepped inside, the house was barely holding together – mission brown paint, a dated kitchen, and a ceiling about to collapse,” Nguyen says.
“But beneath it all, there was something deeper: the warmth of the sandstone, the way the light moved through the rooms, and a sense that this place had a story worth uncovering.”
A few years later, after her late husband Paul moved in, they began the first renovation.
What started with fixing the ceiling soon expanded to converting the attic, opening the rear of the house with bifold doors, and ushering in light, always working to enhance the space while respecting its heritage.
“We hadn’t planned to touch the kitchen or bathroom,” Nguyen recalls. “But when the backyard was dug up, the builder accidentally broke a sewer pipe, and the bathroom had to be rebuilt.
“It ended up being too beautiful to put the laundry back in, so we moved that into the kitchen, which meant redoing that too.”
Years later, Nguyen and her neighbours in the adjoining semi carried out a second renovation in tandem, preserving the symmetry of the original build.
A second, spa-like bathroom was added upstairs, framed by the home’s original stone walls, and a plunge pool was tucked into the compact backyard – a rare luxury for a terrace of this scale and era.
“It’s not a house built for a large family,” Nguyen says. “It’s ideal for a professional couple or anyone who values history and comfort living side by side.
“There’s an authenticity here you simply can’t recreate. It’s intimate, easy to care for, yet layered with character.”
For the couple, life at Fairlight Maison moved with a gentle rhythm.
Mornings began with swims or walks to Fairlight Beach, followed by coffee, quiet work, and the slow drift of sunlight across the stone.
“Evenings often ended with candles lit, a meal outside, or watching the sunset from our bedroom balcony,” Nguyen says.
“In winter, we’d curl up by the fire or play guitar. On weekends, we’d entertain friends and cook up a storm in the kitchen – it was always the heart of the home.”
Nguyen later opened the home to Airbnb guests.
Despite their short stays, many visitors were moved by the house’s energy and location – a short walk from the buzz of Manly Beach, but removed enough to feel like a hidden gem.
“It’s not just the design details, whether it’s the European oak floorboards reclaimed from a 150-year-old Croatian farmhouse or the curved glass balustrade staircase,” she says.
“What guests respond to most is how the house makes them feel. It encourages you to slow down. People often tell me they feel held by it, like they’ve uncovered a quiet little secret.”
That sense of refuge became even more profound in recent years as the couple moved through Paul’s illness together.
Surrounded by the spaces they had built and loved, the home became a place of deep comfort and care.
“During that time, this home became our sanctuary in the truest sense,” Nguyen says. “It held us in our most tender moments.
“There was comfort in the familiar textures, the cosy rooms, the soft light. The house asked nothing of us, but gave everything in return.”
With Paul’s passing in late 2024, his memory is now gently woven into the walls of Fairlight Maison.
Nguyen is preparing to pass the home to its next custodian.
“You don’t just own Fairlight Maison – you become part of its story,” she says. “It asks only that you love it, live in it with intention, and let it hold you as it has held me.”