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June 29, 2026 — 5:00am
We had been in Kenmore for a couple of months before I ventured into our overgrown backyard to mow the lawn for the first time.
Pushing the Victa into the dense wisteria vines underneath the cubbyhouse, I felt it bump into something. Peering into the shadows, I was stunned to see a huge carpet snake, its mottled skin surprisingly good camouflage.
Slowly it unfurled itself and disappeared into the undergrowth.
“It’s like a jungle here,” commented my neighbour.
My younger self would be appalled that I now live in Kenmore.
During university, Kenmore was the suburb where many of my student friends’ parents lived. I was much more interested in my inner-city stomping grounds of New Farm, Fortitude Valley, West End and Highgate Hill, which seemed to be bursting with creativity and excitement.
Kenmore seemed staid and conservative in comparison. But the secret to living here is to look beyond the surface and appreciate what is hiding in plain sight.
Having returned to Brisbane after a couple of decades away, we’ve found Kenmore to be a great place to live.
Coming back with two young children and a very naughty dog, we now have different priorities. A cool cafe on the corner of the street no longer matters so much. Our issues now are living space, access to schools, and proximity to our extended families.
Previously farmland, Kenmore became the site of one of Brisbane’s earliest housing estates in the 1950s, with rural acreage subdivided for sale.
The higher ridge tops are where you find the boxy weatherboard and brick houses from that era. Down the hillsides, housing styles change to reflect classic 1960s and ’70s designs.
In fact, the western suburbs are filled with iconic modernist houses hidden at the end of cul-de-sacs and looping backstreets. These were at the forefront of mid-century design in Brisbane, with their minimalist lines, flat or gently sloping roofs, cathedral ceilings, square chimneys, and discreet entryways.
A new suburb like Kenmore gave mid-century architects like John Dalton, Maurice Hurst and Vitaly Gzell a place to experiment with new forms, technologies and materials.
Further downhill the lush landscape thickens in the catchment of Cubberla Creek, the slow-moving artery that connects the looming mass of nearby Mount Coot-tha with the murky Brisbane River, flowing through Chapel Hill and Kenmore.
Hidden behind thick foliage is a creek reminiscent of the famous episode of Bluey. Overgrown trees cast deep shade across reed-filled creek beds and trickling stony waterways busy with water dragons, birdlife and the enthusiastic Bushcare volunteers who keep it healthy.
Paths and bicycle tracks wind past exercise stations and a gorgeous black bean tree, signposted with a hand-carved proclamation that it was planted in 1992 “From seeds of hope for all to share”.
Creekside ovals are home to two codes of football (AFL and soccer), filling up on weekends with the cheers of supporters and the smell of barbecue bacon-and-egg rolls being cooked by the Kenmore Bears club members.
Children’s playground tables become the venue for a weekly community dinner held by our local member, an architect and Green who now represents what used to be one of Brisbane’s most conservative strongholds.
Carpet snakes aren’t our only visitors, we also get owls, raucous gangs of cockatoos, bush turkeys – the bane of suburban backyards – and a possum family living in the trees.
There is a weird microclimate that comes from being close to Mount Coot-tha. Huge localised tropical rainstorms suddenly appear from the west, swirl around dumping torrents of water, then quickly disappear.
Kenmore is bisected by the bitumen ribbon of Moggill Road, known for peak-hour traffic that can grind down to a slow crawl for no apparent reason. Years living in a country town didn’t prepare us for the time it takes for the daily commute, which requires military precision to ensure a timely arrival at school drop-off and work.
Kenmore Plaza and Kenmore Village, shopping hubs from an earlier era, are the suburb’s social and business hearts, surrounded by gyms, healthcare providers and ever-present real estate agents.
Kenmore Plaza is home to The Kenmore tavern, where you can dine on a decent steak in a bistro returned to its mid-century style thanks to a sympathetic refurbishment that feels like a step back in time.
The increasingly diverse social fabric of Kenmore can be found at the tables of people enjoying an outstanding Sichuan or Thai meal at the cluster of restaurants in Wongabel Street. This suburban strip of shops has been reinvented as a dining precinct and is often bustling. Like me, Kenmore has matured.
I remember visiting houses in Kenmore for parties back in the day: big hair, loud music and awkward social interactions in downstairs rumpus rooms while the parents lurked out of sight upstairs.
Soon that may be my fate too!
