Brendan and Alex Fevola's glam $4m+ Melb home hits the market
On Thursday, the couple put the five-bedroom house on the market about four years after buying it in 2021.
Fevola, who played for both the Blues and Brisbane Lions, was Carlton's leading goal kicker from 2003 until 2009.
As an AFL player, he received a host of awards including the Allen Aylett Medal for being the Victorian team's best player during the 2008 AFL Hall of Fame Tribute Match.
Following his AFL career, Fevola joined radio station Fox FM where he remains on air alongside Fifi Box and Nick Cody, hosting the popular morning show Fifi, Fev and Nic.
In 2016, Fevola won Network Ten's I'm a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here! and he also competed in the The Masked Singer Australia's 2023 season.
Alex, a photographer and the founder of Runway Room Cosmetics, was a contestant on the 2010 Dancing With The Stars TV show in which she placed third.
Public records show the Fevolas paid $3.1m when they bought the house.
Following the purchase, Fev posted a photo on social media showing himself and Alex outside the home.
He tagged their four children in the post captioned, 'New family home to make memories'.
At the time, Fevola told the Herald Sun his youngest daughter Tobi, then aged 2 years old, had clinched their decision to buy the abode.
'When we walked in, Tobi said, 'This is my room' – that did it for us,' Fevola said.
He and Alex have extensively renovated the Edwardian-era house during their time there.
Fredman's Sarah Korbel, who has the listing alongside colleague Joel Fredman, declined to comment on the residence's owners.
However, Ms Korbel said finding a renovated period home set on a 1200sq m block was a rarity in Hampton – let alone one with five bedrooms and three bathrooms.
'I think what families are going to love is the number of bathrooms, bedrooms and the fact that there are three separate living zones,' Ms Korbel said.
'They've (the owners) spent a lot of money in all the right places, they've created an exceptional and functional kitchen using the most high-end appliances, the sink, the tap ware and they've created a butler's pantry.'
The new kitchen also features marble fittings and a Belling oven.
'They have renovated bathrooms, they have installed herringbone timber floors throughout and they've done a lot of things that you won't necessarily see, so things like wiring and plumbing and that sort of thing,' Ms Korbel added.
'There's nothing left to do in the property – if someone wanted to do some further landscaping and put a pool in they could, but it's just perfect for a large family.'
One of the living areas has an original fireplace and a high ceiling fitted with clerestory windows and pressed metal.
A rear living and dining space is warmed by a wood-burner fireplace and also has a built-in library.
On the ground floor there's four bedrooms, one with an ensuite while another has a study area and playroom.
Upstairs is the main bedroom with a walk-in wardrobe, spa ensuite with a skylight, sitting room, study area and balcony.
The location within walking distance to Hampton St, shops, Hampton and Sandringham train stations and the beach is another bonus.
'It's exceptional family living for those people who want to be close to schools, because it is walking distance to all the best schools, Haileybury and St Leonard's and all the primary schools that are in and around the area,' Ms Korbel said.
Expressions of interest for the home close at 5pm on September 1.
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Reality TV shows create an illusion of risk, with paramedics and evacuation teams waiting on standby to snatch contestants away from danger if needed. But a small number of people risk their lives in search of solitude and spiritual growth, drawing on an age-old belief that romanticises nature as "authentic", and capable of revealing fundamental human truths. This yearning for spiritual connection is what sent Robert Bogucki out into the Great Sandy Desert in 1999. His remarkable story of survival, as told in the ABC's Expanse: Nowhere Man podcast, inspired visceral reactions among the public. Some were envious of his chance to seek solitude and challenge away from the shackles of daily life, while others were angry about the resources that went into large-scale search efforts to find him. Many were simply baffled by an impulse to disappear alone that they couldn't understand. While Bogucki and his long-time partner Janet North received letters of support and celebration of his survival from around the world, there was also significant backlash. The WA Premier at the time described Bogucki's actions as reckless, while letters to the editor scolded him as a "'selfish ignorant rich kid" who "needed a good smack in the mouth". Ben Martin, a former reporter for The West Australian who joined the search for Bogucki in 1999, believes the public response is revealing. "There's a fine line between celebrating some sort of frontier spirit, versus someone regarded as doing something a bit weird," he reflects. "People judged Robert so harshly … but people are paying thousands of dollars to go to yoga retreats to disconnect and just think, which is not that different to what Robert was seeking. "So I think the depth of thought that Robert was seeking was lost on a lot of people." The saga revealed a double-standard in how we respond to people who undertake risky endeavours. An attempt to break a world record is considered brave and bold, and extreme sports like base-jumping are deadly but tolerated. But dangerous journeys to achieve a spiritual, psychological or religious objective tend to puzzle and even offend the general public. The fall-out from Bogucki's odyssey revealed a deeper tension between the desire of the state to keep people safe, and the freedom of the individual to live and die as they wish. There are similarities with the much more famous case of Christopher McCandless, who starved to death in remote interior Alaska in 1992. McCandless — whose story was immortalised in the 1996 book Into The Wild, and later adapted for film — was determined to prove he could live off the land, but misjudged river levels and became trapped as the freezing winter approached. Both Bogucki and McCandless were intelligent, independent-minded young American men from highly educated and well-to-do families. Both embarked on physically and mentally challenging journeys into the wilderness, with an awareness and acceptance of the risks involved. But only one lived to tell the tale, while the other died a preventable death in the prime of life. Looking back now, Robert Bogucki says he can understand the comparison, although their motivations differed. "All I can say about McCandless is that he got what he wanted, to be out there alone in the wilderness," he says. "And I think he had a fulfilling life. He got what he asked for. "Some people would say 'oh, that's terrible because he died', but where do you want to die, in a hospital with a bunch of tubes sticking out of you?" While Robert's quest was primarily spiritual, he endured many of the challenges and discomforts experienced by those undertaking more straight-forward survival quests. Towards the end of the trip, he was so weakened by dehydration and malnutrition that he felt he'd die if he succumbed to the feelings of despair, or stopped moving to sit under a tree for more than a few minutes. On day 36 on his journey, he was so thirsty he considered drinking his own urine, but decided against it, deciding it would be akin to "giving up". Ultimately, Bogucki believes it was his faith in God and positive mindset that allowed him to endure a level of deprivation that the guidebooks suggest no-one could survive. "The simple answer [for how I survived] is by focusing on the good and not the bad — the life aspect, as opposed to the things that sucked energy from me," he says. "It came down to believing in God because of the love of life, as opposed to a fear of dying or hell." Those long, hot days and nights in the desert changed Bogucki, instilling a self-awareness and confidence in his ability to endure hardship that would be difficult to replicate. "It definitely caused me to slow down … it helps you identify your ego, that detrimental part of your self-awareness that I had to learn about, and that's always there," he says. "To be aware of that definitely helps deal with these modern times." Bogucki, now aged 59, lives with his partner Janet in a log cabin in remote central Alaska — not far from where McCandless died. He recognises that many people face adversity and hardship in daily life. "Not everyone's going to go for a walk in the desert, or go to the edge of the abyss, but they'll have their own troubles and trials and tribulations," he says. "I learnt you have a strength you don't know you have … everyone's got their cross to bear." The Bogucki saga exposed deep divisions over whether people should be allowed to undertake risky activities in the outback, or be protected from themselves in what's often characterised as a "nanny state" intervention. Opinion pieces published in the wake of his rescue dissected the ideological tension. One, by Alaskan outdoorsman Charlie Campbell, captured the culture of staunch individualism that's more pervasive in the US than Australia. "[Bogucki's case] raises an interesting question, one with profound moral dilemmas attached," he wrote in the Fairbanks Daily Miner. "What is society's responsibility to rescue people who may not want to be rescued? "We live in an age where more and more a huge safety net is created under most any activity we undertake. The problem with this is it runs counter to a basic human need to exercise free will." He pointed to the installation of boardwalks and handrails across scenic locations and national parks, "excessive" warning signs, and children so buffered from risk they would emerge into adulthood timid and unchallenged by adversity. The column also suggested a legal disclaimer could be considered for those of sound mind who wanted to undertake high-risk endeavours without intervention by authorities. It's an idea supported by Atkinson, who believes society has tipped too far in favour of minimising risk. "People end up so risk-averse that they've lost the ability to actually weigh up the positives and negatives of a risk decision, and they're missing out on a heap of positive experiences in nature because of that," he says. "It's detrimental, especially when parents seem to set this goal that my child shouldn't go through any hardship, whereas really it needs to be: 'What are the suitable risks that they can take, and what are the deliberate hardships that I'm going to allow them to experience in order for them to grow?'" A 2024 study from the Australian Institute of Family Studies showed the amount of time children under five spend indoors has increased in recent years, with researchers warning it could negatively impact wellbeing and development. Atkinson is by no means reckless. His wife and children are forefront in his mind, and he says he assesses the dangers of each journey carefully, whether it's sailing a handmade canoe through tropical waters or surviving alone on a remote beach for weeks. At times, he's carried a satellite communication device, leaving instructions to contact authorities if he doesn't do a digital "check-in" for more than seven days. But the 47-year-old former military pilot believes strongly that individuals should retain the right to risk their lives, so long as they're of sound mind and communicating clearly. "I've thought a lot about the most responsible way for people to do something like what Robert Bogucki did, and I think an indemnity form is the answer," he says. "So you can sign a form saying to the authorities: 'Hey, I'm going out bush, and I'm not going to tell you where, because I don't want you to have to feel responsible for searching for me.' "You should be able to do that as a kind of basic human right, because otherwise it opens up a whole bag of worms about how much risk you're allowed to take in your own life." It's the kind of system that could help authorities navigate cases like that of Thomas Seibold, a German man who disappeared in 2012 during an ambitious adventure in remote interior Alaska. Seibold was an experienced, resilient survival instructor at an outdoor skills school in Wisconsin. The police incident report into his disappearance, obtained by the ABC, states that Seibold had hiked to a remote cabin and planned to stay a couple of months alone to "spend time with nature". He was due to trek the 40 kilometres out to safety at the start of winter, but was never seen again. An inventory of his belongings — found at the cabin — included maps, winter clothing, a 0.22 calibre rifle, a moose carcass and a handful of berries. "Seibold has been presumed deceased … he is officially listed as a missing person," the police report states. Another life likely lost in the pursuit of solitude in the wilderness, in a manifestation of free will that few would choose. In Australia, it's becoming harder and harder to be alone in the wilderness to test your skills and enjoy peace and quiet. Every year, the spiderweb of sealed road spreads across the outback landscape. And mobile phone reception is expanding across the vast interior, making it difficult to avoid the incessant buzz of notifications. It's no doubt a positive for remote residents, for whom the bitumen and bars of reception are a critical link to help in times of crisis. But many, like Bogucki, believe we're less happy because our increasingly safe, suburbanised existence. "It's pretty clear that the answer is to get back to respecting the earth and having a connection with it," he says. "When you're in the city everything's so easy to get … and when you tear away all that modern world stuff, you can feel the benefits. "Your ego drops, you stop looking at yourself in the mirror. Don't take the selfie, don't take your phone out there and take selfies. It's not conducive to the spirit path, and it's not conducive to life." As technology expands to fill almost every facet of our lives, the promise of the wilderness shimmers like a mirage in our minds — a place to disconnect, to be alone, and, in as Bogucki puts it, "strip away the bark to find your essence". This concept of choosing to "go bush" for spiritual enlightenment is, in some ways, a privileged perspective. Aboriginal people continued to "survive" in some of the most challenging wilderness landscapes in Australia until around 50 years ago. Many still rely on age-old hunting and fishing techniques in places where shops are far away and incomes low. They're skills that help people survive when things go pear-shaped out bush. And it's often local Indigenous people who find and help tourists when they become stranded. Jabirr Jabirr and Nyikina man Lindsay Greatorex says older Aboriginal people's knowledge of Australia's remote landscapes is unparalleled and underestimated. "For tens of thousands of years, Aboriginal people built this incredible knowledge of country … they knew where the soak holes were, they knew the weather and the timing of everything," he says. "That's how we survived in those arid locations over the years, and there's still this survival instinct of the mob. Greatorex worked as a police officer across Western Australian for almost 20 years, and was part of the local team that went out in search of Bogucki in 1999. At times throughout his career, he watched in disbelief as men who'd grown up in the desert used their tracking skills to quickly locate missing people in remote areas. But he says the skills are at risk of disappearing, with younger generations largely stuck in towns and unable to learn how to live off the land their ancestors survived in for generations. "It's sad to see, and it's why it's so important we do our best to get our kids out bush," he reflects. "I have a bit of knowledge, but even I get my bush tucker from the supermarket — it's not like the old days, that's for sure." Outback survival makes for riveting viewing because it captures a reality that terrifies most people — being forced to rely on only yourself as imminent death looms. Australians are increasingly buffered from risk, and living longer than ever before. Outback survival offers a glimpse at an earlier existence that few would want to relive, but one that many suspect offered a sense of focus, purpose and wellbeing many now struggle to achieve. As Australian writer Ruth Ostrow observed in an article about Bogucki's disappearance in 1999, the fear of a life unlived haunts those of us fortunate enough to never know how we'd cope in a life -or-death situation. "As I stare into Bogucki's eye, I am afraid. Afraid of letting life pass me by," she wrote in a piece titled In Search of Peace on Earth. "But most of all, I'm afraid that I will never roam barefoot through dusty sand dunes, totally alone with the sound of my heartbeat and the wind, in the wilderness of my soul. "We've grown fat on money, food and possessions. But still we remain empty.
