the sirocco

The Sirocco is named for the warm Mediterranean wind that rolls in off the sea — unhurried, inevitable, carrying with it the scent of salt, lavender and sun-warmed stone. It is a house that feels like it has always been there, as though the dunes simply grew up around it one summer and nobody thought to question it.

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From the street, The Sirocco presents as a classic barn-gabled Mediterranean cottage — whitewashed render walls stained warm by the afternoon sun, terracotta roof tiles the colour of the earth beneath them, bougainvillea climbing in great bursts of pink and orange up the southern facade, aged iron lanterns glowing at dusk. It is immediately, deeply familiar. Like a memory of a holiday you never want to leave.

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Step inside and the ceiling opens up — soaring whitewashed timber trusses vaulting above a single continuous living space that runs straight to the ocean. The bi-fold doors fold back completely, the terracotta tiles flow out onto the terrace without interruption, and suddenly the inside and the beach are the same place. Sand linen sofas. Rattan armchairs.