Trailer park flash

But I could die tomorrow and have missed out on doing the things I wanted to do but didn’t because they seemed irresponsible or excessive.

So my idea of saving money isn’t stashing lump sums under a mattress or locking them away in long-term deposit bank accounts (although there is a balance — I’m not a complete cowboy, always got to have an emergency fund when you’re a parent).

My idea of saving money is being penny-wise with it when we do go away.

For example, we might buy food somewhere along our travels. Still, we’ll pack our drinks (I resent paying $4 for a can of soft drink from a food truck when they’re less than a dollar in a slab from the supermarket).

Or, if we have a stacked itinerary at our destination (standard), I’ll book really cheap accommodation that’s not modern, has no bells and whistles and isn’t necessarily right in a prime tourist hotspot, because as long as it’s clean and safe, what does it matter when you’re only there to sleep and shower?

Sometimes, though, those plans are foiled when you find some ridiculously unique and novel accommodation you must stay at. Still, it comes with a price tag that screams, “We know we’ve got a monopoly on this”.

No competitors are doing the same or similar things, so they can pretty much name their price (and get it) until there are.

And, of course, my FOMO kicks in and questions, “Do you want to wait until the market is flooded with copycats just to save some money, or even worse, miss out altogether if the place doesn’t take off and ends up closing while you made up your mind?”

“Of course I don’t,” I tell it.

So then, I book and pay an absurd amount to stay in a trailer park.

Hotel No, however, is not just any hotel, no, no.

And, while its accommodation may consist of six restored Airstream caravans in Melbourne’s CBD, if we’re going to actually call it a trailer park, we’d better call it a glamorous one.

Unmanned on a weekend, it’s an adventure to get yourself in.

You have to find an obscured roller door, key in a code, park, and then find a pink door back out on the street that you unlock with an electronic key within a phone app you must download before your stay, which will only be activated after the exact allowable check-in time.

Once inside, you make your way through another ‘roller’ door and up a pink-painted stairwell before bursting out from what was probably once a fire escape on to a private rooftop with a vast (transparent) covered courtyard in the centre that is surrounded by six carefully positioned, highly polished chrome Airstreams.

It’s just one storey above street level, but the light is different.

Maybe it’s the reflective silver of the campers bouncing more of it around than would naturally be there; maybe it’s the faux red grass, pine elements and perfectly placed cactuses in pots and silver trash cans giving a sense of nature in a predominantly concrete jungle; maybe it’s the tall wall backdrop on one side that has been boldly painted mainly pink, but also purple, white and orange, in drizzly streaks.

Whatever it is, it makes you feel like you’re on a movie set.

It is striking and like no place I’ve ever seen or stayed.

And that’s just it, isn’t it?

You can baulk at the price of something all you want, but if you want the experience and you can’t get it anywhere else, you have to suck it up and pay.

I made peace with this notion when I paid more than a grand for a single night’s accommodation at a zoo slumber safari last year.

I did um and ah for a while, but in the end, the desire to collect the experience outweighs the price tag fear. So, I usually wait until tax return time each year to book something spectacular.

Inside the beautifully restored vintage campers, we found a well-stocked complimentary mini-bar (I’m talking craft beer, classy wine, upmarket soft drinks, organic chocolate and chips, even a sleep remedy potion), an iPad that attached to a cradle above the queen bed to watch movies before sleep, a little photo printer to capture memories of your stay and, surprisingly, so much space you could swing a whole litter of cats within it (not that I would ever actually swing a cat).

Each camper has an outdoor deck with a setting (and one even has an outdoor spa overlooking the streets below it) that all faces into the communal courtyard area, which is set up with weatherproof beanbags to lay back on, beanbag toss games, quoits and giant Jenga.

While I booked only one Airstream, went with only one friend and made new ones there, this place would be incredible to book out wholly and solely with a whole group of friends for a weekend getaway.

While sirens and street noise might keep the light sleeper awake in a camper that I assume is less sound-proof than a motel room (maybe that’s the meaning behind including sleeping potions in the mini-bar), it’s worth it for the Insta-worthy pics you will be able to take there.

And you could write an entire newspaper column about it.

Forget trailer park trash; this is trailer park flash.

Gallery