This house isn’t a house. It’s an antique wrapped in house’s clothing, and it should be behind a velvet rope with a little card that says please do not touch.
69 Ellenborough Street, better known as Bowerbank, has been sitting on top of Denmark Hill since 1914, looking down on Ipswich the way a dowager looks down on a grandchild in thongs. The retro styling is out of this world. Literally, because you’re in Ipswich. It’s being sold fully furnished, which answers our first question: yes, the furniture comes with the house. Our second question is whether the house comes with the furniture, because frankly the furniture got here first.
So we haven’t written a review. We’ve written an auction catalogue. Bidding opens now.
Lot 1. One (1) Federation mansion, Arts and Crafts style, circa 1914.
Designed by local architect George Brockwell Gill for William Fox, known around town as “Fox the Chemist”, and his wife Florence. Fox was Ipswich’s biggest pharmacist and wanted a house to prove it, which he did, on 2,393 square metres at the top of the hill. The name comes from Florence’s family, the Bowers. The two foxes on the gateposts have sat there for over a century in honour of William, which is the most chemist thing we’ve ever heard. Condition: extraordinary. Pressed metal ceilings throughout, including one in the formal lounge showing the Four Seasons. Leadlight in every door that would hold still long enough. Estimate: priceless, but the agent will take offers before November 2.
Lot 2. Assorted sitting room furniture, gold velvet.
A buttoned chaise, two matching armchairs, a leadlight bookcase on either side of a green-tiled fireplace, a gilt mirror, two urns and a mantel crowded with family photos. The carpet is a pattern so busy it should be billed by the hour. Provenance: clearly loved, clearly used, never once sent to the tip.
Lot 3. One (1) wall of graduation portraits.
This is where the house tells you who lived in it. The sitting room has green velvet drapes, a bay window seat and a whole wall of framed photos: graduation gowns, family portraits and what looks like someone sitting on Santa’s knee. The bedrooms have school pennants pinned in a row above the doors. These weren’t decorators. These were proud parents. Estimate: sentimental. Not included, presumably, but we’d ask.
Lot 4. One (1) ballroom, with pianola.
Yes, a ballroom. Parquetry floor, 3.7 metre ceilings, leadlight windows all the way round, a Persian rug and a pianola in the corner for when the band doesn’t show up. The agent calls it “theatrical,” and for once that’s not real estate code for “small.”
Lot 5. One (1) dining room, red.
The walls are red. The ceiling is red. The fretwork archway is red. A crystal chandelier hangs over a lace tablecloth set for twelve, and there are more sideboards and china cabinets than any one family could own unless it had been collecting since 1914. Which it may have been.
Lot 6. One (1) kitchen. Lot withdrawn on grounds of authenticity.
Every auction has one fake. This is it. White cupboards, white stone benchtop, a big silver fridge covered in magnets. The agent calls it “an elegant juxtaposition of old and new.” We call it a time traveller who took a wrong turn and is now too embarrassed to leave. It does not match the rest of the house whatsoever, and the rest of the house knows.
Lot 7. Garden statuary, quantity: yes.
Outside, the terraced gardens step down the hill past working fountains, urns, and an army of historic terracotta figures. There’s a statue in the courtyard, another next to it, a third on its own plinth in the middle of the side lawn, and urns lined up along the retaining walls like they’re waiting for a bus. Who thought that many statues in one yard was a great idea? Was someone using them for backyard cricket practice? Silly mid-off, stands very still, never drops a catch. Condition: do not move. We mean it.
Lot 8. One (1) turreted lookout, with flagpole.
At the very top of the block, up the path and past the lights, there’s a little tower. When you’ve had enough of the family, this is where you go. From up here you can take in the views of (we want to say beautiful) downtown Ipswich. On a clear night, the Brisbane skyline glows on the horizon, at a nice safe distance. There’s also an orchid hot house built for the Foxes’ son, which is the second most chemist thing we’ve ever heard.
Conditions of sale.
Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a four-car carport with a lift, a function room downstairs that once seated a hundred for fundraisers, and two street frontages. Inspections are strictly by invitation, which is fitting.
The one condition we’d add: whoever buys Bowerbank had better not touch it. Don’t white it out. Don’t rip up the carpet, paint over the red, or turn it into a spread in House & Garden with a fiddle-leaf fig and a linen throw. It’s been loved for more than a century. Keep the statues where they are. Keep the pianola. Rehome the kitchen if you must.
Going once. Going twice.
