🍵 Melbourne Part 3 - Lost & Grounded in Fitzroy

Read Part 1 Here ➡️ Melbourne Part 1 : The First Sip is the Deepest

Read Part 2 Here ➡️ Melbourne Part 2 :  Expresso Yourself before You Wreck Yourself

Welcome to the Fitzroy era — where every street looks like a postcard, every café could double as a design studio, and I fully leaned into my role as a decaf-chasing, ceramic-cup-holding, main character with mild heatstroke.

This section wasn’t just about good coffee.

It was about atmosphere.

Architecture.

Emotional resilience.

Also, salad envy.

But mostly vibes.

☕ Shop 7: Calēre

A sensory stroll through Fitzroy, with a detour into caramel and caffeine.

If Melbourne’s CBD is the overachieving sibling in a tailored suit, Fitzroy is the effortlessly cool cousin who thrifted their outfit in Tokyo, microdoses kombucha, and somehow makes chipped ceramics feel like a design choice.

Naturally, I had to go.

I came for the streets I’d seen splashed across Pinterest boards and moody reels. The ones Melbourne refuses to shut up about — red-bricked, ivy-draped, European-core but make it inner-north. And you know what? They were right.

Every corner looked like it had been styled by a creative director with access to natural light and an unlimited fig tree budget.

I was thriving.

The Detour

Calēre was on the itinerary, but in a very me-coded move, I walked straight past it.

I even looked at it — made full eye contact with the sign — but my brain, possibly still recovering from lack of caffeine and too-dark sunglasses, just... didn’t compute. I kept walking. Ten metres, twenty, maybe a hundred. Then it hit me:

Why am I still walking?

Did a dramatic backtrack. Found it. Felt mildly foolish. Forgave myself instantly.

The First Impression

From the outside, it’s giving chic minimalism. White signage, timber trims, that whole “we’re simple because we’re serious” aesthetic. Blink and you might miss it — but step inside and it’s a whole world.

This is not a regular café. This is a caffeine temple.

Shelves lined with beans from around the globe. Massive copper cylinders that either hold rare roasts or possibly power the coffee matrix. And — my personal obsession — a sniffing station.

Yes. Glass domes. Lift. Inhale. Ascend.

One of them smelt like a caramelised dream — nostalgic, sweet, slightly toasted — and when I found out it was a collab with White Rabbit candy, I immediately bought a bag like it was a breakable antique and I was headed for customs.

The Café Surprise

What looks like a cute takeaway bar up front actually stretches back into a coffee-laced labyrinth.

On a casual quest to find the bathroom, I stumbled upon two hidden dining rooms — ten-seaters, moody lighting, moody energy, the whole “secret whiskey bar meets coffee lab” situation.

I stood in the doorway for a moment, taking it in, like I’d just unlocked a bonus level of Melbourne café culture. Quiet flex. Huge vibe.

The Ritual

The barista had the classic Melbourne aura — stylish, focused, vaguely intimidating — but the second I asked for my decaf Iced Long Black, they gave me the warmest nod like “You’re safe here.”

And that’s all I needed.

The Coffee

The cup was small but mighty — chubby at the base, flat at the top, like a tiny caffeine dumpling engineered for ergonomic perfection.

It was bold, dark, smooth — no frills, no fuss, just a quietly confident brew that didn’t need to prove anything. I held it like it was a designer clutch and wandered back out into the Fitzroy dreamscape.

The Wander

Coffee in hand, I walked through a parade of curated shopfronts that felt like background sets for a film called Nostalgia and Natural Wine.

There was Italian bread. Korean pastries. Vintage cutlery. Salt blends infused with things I can’t pronounce.

The whole suburb was a vibe, and my little cup of Calēre kept me grounded, caffeinated, and weirdly emotional.

Matcha Toast Memory

• Mood: Lost, then found — literally and emotionally

• Barista Energy: Icy cool with a molten centre

• Cup Vibe: Compact, comforting, high-design dopamine hit

• Main Character Moment: The moment I turned back and chose curiosity over continuing to be lost

• Unexpected Delight: The White Rabbit scent dome. I am spiritually bonded to it now.

• Café Vibe: Thoughtful. Quietly luxurious. Designed for those who notice.

• Matcha Leaves: 4/5 🍵

Final Sip

Calēre doesn’t scream — it whispers.

It’s the kind of café you find once, fall in love with, and then gatekeep aggressively because you want it to stay that perfect level of under-the-radar cool.

Everything — from the architecture to the aroma — felt precise, but never pretentious.

And as I sipped and wandered through the streets of Fitzroy with my chic little cup, I knew one thing for sure:

This detour? Absolutely worth it.

Let’s sip. 🍵🥶

⟶ There was time to kill and temptations to dodge. But a Melbourne classic doesn’t just pass you by.

☕ Shop 8: Proud Mary Espresso

A Fitzroy classic where productivity peaks and tomato salads haunt your dreams.

I was in between commitments — the rare liminal space on a Melbourne trip where you’re caffeinated enough to function, but not yet in a food coma.

Wabi Wabi Salon wouldn’t open for another hour, and I had already strutted past three dangerously cute Japanese cafés, all beckoning me with the promise of carbs and comfort.

But I held my ground. Growth. Discipline. A vague fear of spoiling my lunch plans.

And just as I was about to reconsider everything, I remembered: Proud Mary was nearby.

Not just any café — the café. Melbourne’s pride. The one you’ve definitely seen ranked, reviewed, or reverently whispered about by someone who owns a Chemex and an opinion.

Naturally, I rerouted immediately.

The Arrival

Stepping into Proud Mary feels like stumbling upon the high temple of brunch.

It’s nestled in a part of Fitzroy that looks like a film set for “post-industrial warehouse chic,” complete with red bricks, faded signage, and a vibe that says we roast our own and we mean it.

Inside?

Chaos. Glorious, espresso-fuelled chaos.

The menu reads like a coffee nerd’s dream journal — chalkboards, rotating brews, tasting notes that veer into poetry (“cocoa ghost”?? “nectarine sunset”?). There were over ten different pour-over options, all of them sounding like they came with a spiritual awakening.

I didn’t even flinch. I knew what I was here for.

The Ritual

As a proud member of the decaf delegation, my order chose itself. No decision fatigue. No panic at the counter. Just a calm confidence in my usual: decaf Iced Long Black.

They sat me by the window — prime real estate. Light streaming in. Red brick backdrop. Locals weaving past on bikes and in ironic denim.

It was giving freelancer in her flow state — and I fully leaned into it.

The Coffee

Let’s talk about this cup.

• Icy. Smooth. Dark. Balanced.

• Served in the most photogenic light-blue ceramic vessel you’ve ever seen, complete with a spoon I absolutely did not need but deeply appreciated.

• The contrast against the brick? A visual serotonin hit.

• The sip itself? Crisp clarity with every mouthful. A decaf that didn’t feel like a compromise — it felt like a choice.

I typed like a woman possessed. I was so productive. I overshot my Wabi Wabi appointment by fifteen minutes.

Regret? None.

The Details

There was something quietly excellent about the whole place.

Even amid the buzz — plates clinking, steam hissing, someone explaining the difference between washed and natural beans at full volume — the vibe never tipped into chaos. It was... contained energy. Choreographed bustle.

And then there was me — tapping away, pausing occasionally to people-watch the two men mid-deep-dive conversation just outside the window. At one point, we locked eyes. Mutual curiosity. Subtle nod.

Had I become part of the atmosphere?

Honestly, I hoped so.

The Food That Got Away

Now, here’s the emotional core of this review.

While waiting for my coffee, I witnessed a server place the most luminous heirloom tomato salad I have ever seen onto the table next to me.

It was glistening. It had basil. It had drama.

I stared. The tomatoes stared back.

I almost ordered it on the spot. But I reminded myself — lunch plans. Restraint. Dignity.

Reader, I am still thinking about that salad.

Matcha Toast Memory

• Mood: Focused, caffeinated, resisting temptation

• Barista Energy: Calmly efficient — decaf request? Handled.

• Cup Vibe: Compact, pastel, quietly iconic

• Main Character Moment: Writing furiously while probably being the subject of someone else’s brunch observation

• Unexpected Delight: The tomato salad I didn’t eat but emotionally devoured

• Café Vibe: Coffee academia meets industrial comfort

• Matcha Leaves: 4.5/5 🍵

Final Sip

Proud Mary isn’t just a café — it’s a whole identity.

It’s where you go to get serious about your coffee and slightly too serious about your to-do list. It’s bold, beautiful, and somehow makes your decaf order feel like a power move.

I came in needing a distraction.

I left needing that salad.

Let’s sip. 🍵🥶

⟶ I was hot. I was drifting. And then I found the loophole in Melbourne’s café closing hours.

☕ Shop 9: Good Measure

A penguin? A magpie? A café? A bar? Who knows — but it works.

This one was a detour — a mid-afternoon, slightly delusional, sunscreen-melting kind of detour. Ten minutes off-course, in full sun, dragging myself through the streets of Melbourne with one mission: to track down a café that allegedly stays open until 9pm.

In a city where most cafés shut shop like they’re allergic to anything past 3pm, this felt like discovering a myth. A unicorn. A loophole in Melbourne’s caffeine laws.

Brisbane could never.

So even though I was sweaty, tired, and starting to hallucinate citrus slices, I pressed on. I had to know what this coffee-bar hybrid was about.

The Mood

Let’s be real — my energy was not good.

I was hot. I was tired. I was emotionally compromised and spiritually wilting. But I was also on a caffeine mission, and apparently, this was where Melbourne hid its Iced Long Blacks after noon.

Hope: restored. Armpits: sweaty.

First Impressions

The first thing I noticed? The bird.

There’s a mysterious bird on the cup — possibly a penguin, maybe a magpie, potentially a caffeinated cryptid. It had the swoop of a predator, and my Brisbane instincts flinched accordingly. But then I saw the signage — full of penguin puns and soft bubble fonts — and thought: Okay. Not a threat. Probably.

Inside? Chaos and calm, perfectly overlapped.

Every table was taken. Staff wove through the crowd like caffeinated figure skaters, delivering drinks that looked like they belonged in a bar menu or a science fiction cookbook. Cold brews topped with foam. Citrus garnishes. Something vaguely molecular.

And yet — the space itself? Serene.

• White walls

• Oak floorboards

• Bonsai trees in corners like quiet philosophers

• Ambient lighting that whispered we compost and we care

The Ritual

When I said I was ordering takeaway, the barista visibly relaxed — like I’d just removed myself from the group project that was the dine-in chaos.

But then came the internal conflict: I saw her.

The Mont Blanc.

Cold brew. Thick cream foam. Yuzu. She was luminous. She was flirtatious. She was probably $10 and not a single bit dairy-free or gut-friendly. And still, I considered.

I gave myself a stern internal monologue. Reminded myself of my dairy intolerance. Remembered I had lunch plans. Said no. Chose safety.

Adulting is saying no to the pretty drink.

The Coffee

And honestly? The Iced Long Black did not disappoint.

• Dark. Cold. Sharp. Energising.

• Served in the best takeaway cup of the entire trip. Period.

Let’s break it down:

• Matte White

• Thick plastic

• Rounded base that made it feel like holding a modern sculpture

• Flat lid (extra adult)

• One side: “GOOD MEASURE” in soft, balloon-like lettering

• Other side: The bird again, looking pleased, possibly smug, definitely caffeinated

The entire aesthetic was confusing in the most charming way — part zen retreat, part cocktail bar, part high-fashion coffee lab.

The Sip

The brew hit hard — bold, icy, refreshing in a way that momentarily erased the sweat dripping down my back.

I walked back into the city like I had somewhere to be, even though I didn’t. Because when the coffee slaps, the confidence follows.

Matcha Toast Memory

• Mood: Deliriously warm and riding a caffeine high

• Barista Energy: Friendly, focused, thrilled I wasn’t trying to sit down

• Cup Vibe: Chicest cup in Melbourne. A design object. I almost kept it.

• Main Character Moment: Turning down the Mont Blanc like a mature, bloated adult

• Unexpected Delight: The weird, wonderful blend of aesthetics — penguin meets bonsai meets bar crawl

• Café Vibe: Concept café meets controlled chaos — and somehow, it works

• Matcha Leaves: 4/5 🍵

Final Sip

Would I return? Absolutely.

For the vibe. For the bird. For the cup that made me feel like a minimalist millionaire.

Good Measure is a contradiction wrapped in matte plastic and served with citrus foam. And yet — every part of it makes sense when you’re there.

Melbourne, stay weird. Brisbane, take notes.

Let’s sip. 🍵🥶

💬 Final Final Sip — Part 3

I wandered in for coffee, but somehow left with mood lighting, existential clarity, and a new perfume called “roast profile.”