Unsung icons: The Queenslander A true-blue Aussie-style

COMEDIAN DAVID SMIEDT TAKES AN IRREVERENT, BUT APPRECIATIVE, LOOK AT THE CLASSIC THINGS THAT DEFINE YOU-BEAUT AUSSIE LIFE

It has been argued that Australia does not have its own signature style of architecture. One immediately identifies America with the thrusting statement that is the skyscraper and Paris simply wouldn’t be the same without mansard roofs. But Australia’s version is not citybound. Venture into the ’burbs and country, especially from the NSW mid-north coast upwards, and you will encounter buildings as true blue as they come. We speak, of course, of Queenslanders, those elevated masterpieces that thumb their timbered noses at some of the world’s most brutal residential conditions and yet retain their sense of pared-back elegance. Even in decrepitude.

Starting from the top down, your prototypical Queenslander’s roof was steeply pitched to encourage the run-off of fierce storms, and was made commonly of hard-wearing tin, which acquired its own alluring patina as the seasons accrued. Better still was the drumming thrum of fat tropical raindrops on this surface when you were ensconced below it in a warm bed as thunder boomed and gutters gurgled.

Then there’s the verandah that surrounds the house to varying extents, embracing it like a slightly nervous first-time mum. Long before designer types started using phrases such as “maximising the flow between indoor/outdoor living”, the Queenslander verandah was perfectly melding form and function. From a purely utilitarian point of view, it encouraged the kind of ventilation sorely needed in a sub-tropical climate. But, as importantly, it was about lifestyle. Wide enough to accommodate both daybeds and a game of cricket during a Christmas downpour, the Queenslander verandah invited dusk cocktails that extended until bedtime. And if aircon wasn’t in the picture, you could screen them in for a mossie-free sleep when it was just too damn sultry to get 40 winks inside. Because of the verandah’s generous dimensions and laidback vibe, it proved the perfect foil for whatever decor whim we happened to throw at it. A couple of Adirondacks? Bring them on. That string hammock you got in Tulum? Hang away. The artfully distressed shabby chic cane chaise with the tropical print cushions? Well of course there’s room.

Another reason we are putting Queenslanders on a pedestal is because they were treated the same way. The use of stumps raised these dwellings to imposing new heights that said, in the words of Kath Day-Knight, “look at moi, look at moi, look at moi”. Thanks to this anchoring system, Queenslanders seem to hover above the ground they occupy, with views at the height of mature frangipanis and lightning on the horizon. It’s not just about aesthetics – the clear underfloor area acts as a funnel for ventilation and protects the main living zones from termites, snakes and other transients. Somebody’s thinking. Better still, the “flooding rains” Dorothea Mackellar gave a drenched nod to in her famous poem My Country could pass or at least sit beneath a Queenslander, and its stumps could be adjusted to suit the terrain. It really is the most ingenious design.

For any kid fortunate enough to grow up in a Queenslander, the cool, dark spaces under the house did not merely offer convenient storage for barbecues and boards, they were also everything from a cowboy fort to an intergalactic spaceship. As the years passed, different varieties of fantasies occurred and many a sub-tropical kiss was stolen in the dank yet thrilling ground beneath a Queenslander.

So capacious were these areas that, with time and technology, they could be converted into garages and separate living spaces, giving rise – gettit? – to the notion of two-storey Queenslanders.

The type of people who debate such definitions online would tell you quite stridently there’s no such thing, but we’ll leave them downstairs to carry on that particular discussion.

What is certain is that Queenslanders themselves were not immune to fashion. Different takes including Colonial, Federation, Victorian, Arts and Crafts/Art Nouveau, Interwar and Post World War II styles

“THE COOL, DARK SPACES UNDER THE HOUSE DID NOT MERELY OFFER convenient storage ... THEY WERE ALSO EVERYTHING FROM A COWBOY FORT TO AN intergalactic spaceship”

all garlanded the shires and boroughs across the country. In the end, the combination of smaller plot sizes, the advent of fibre boards and a desire for a low-maintenance lifestyle (Queenslanders take some work – the buildings, not the people) led to cheaper alternatives in the form of the brick-veneer bungalows so many of us called home. But for all that, thousands of Queenslanders remain and many have been immaculately restored, for which we are thankful – because you couldn’t find an architectural style more true blue.