
Why do so many mid-century homes still feel easier to live in than houses built today?
For Melbourne home owner Kirsten and her husband Greg (who asked that their surname not be used), the answer has little to do with nostalgia and everything to do with how these homes were designed to support family life long before open-plan living became a selling point.
When they bought their Frankston South house 12 years ago, it wasn’t the polished mid-century home it is today. Beneath the dated curtains, worn carpet and questionable tiles, though, they recognised something far more valuable: a house that already understood how people wanted to live.

“It reminded me of the Pettit and Sevitt homes I grew up around in Canberra,” Kirsten says. “The floor-to-ceiling sliding doors, the brickwork and the way the house responded to the natural fall of the land immediately felt familiar.”
Rather than rushing into a renovation, the family spent years living in the house first. That patience became one of the project’s greatest strengths.
“We loved the warmth of the timber and brick throughout the interiors,” Kirsten says. “Living there first meant we understood how the house performed across every season, where the sun fell and how our family naturally used each space.”

When the time came to renovate, the family enlisted Drawing Room Architecture to rework the interiors. The brief was to preserve its mid-century spirit while making it work harder for modern family life.
For Kirsten, that’s exactly what many mid-century homes continue to get right. There’s no single hero room; instead, the connection runs through the whole house – between rooms, between indoors and out, and between the people who live there.
“They focus on flow, communal spaces, easy connections to the outdoors and practical materials that last,” she says. “They’re simple, classic and unfussy, but they still feel incredibly appealing today.”

That same thinking shaped the renovation. The house wasn’t going to be frozen in time. Playful pops of colour gave the home fresh energy – a bright cobalt-blue front door, vibrant burnt-orange kitchen joinery – while keeping its original character intact.
“While we love mid-century design, we’re not beholden to it,” Kirsten says. “Good design evolves. If you become too literal, the house starts to feel more like a museum than a home.”
The biggest changes weren’t necessarily the most dramatic. A generous kitchen with a long island bench became the social centre of the house, equally suited to weeknight dinners, baking cakes, preparing curries or gathering friends over drinks.

The lighting, meanwhile, gives the main living room its warmth – the kind of space that feels cosy and welcoming rather than simply well-lit.
More than a decade after moving in, Kirsten believes the renovation succeeded because it changed how the family lived far more than how the house looked.

“It’s more ‘us’, it’s infinitely more user-friendly, and the colour scheme and material selection are way better,” she says.
For Kirsten, the proof is in the everyday moments. Early mornings begin with coffee overlooking the garden while kookaburras, magpies and rosellas announce the day. Winter evenings are spent beside the fire, while summer means sliding open every door and settling on the patio with a drink in hand.