Why Small Renovations Rarely Stay Small

8 June 2026

“We want to keep it restrained.”

I’ve lost count of how many renovation briefs I’ve read recently that contain some version of that sentence. But once you start digging in, there’s the switchboard that needs relocating, the toilet that doesn’t really work, the rear that could open up if only the ceiling wasn’t so low. What people usually mean is something closer to:

“We want to improve almost everything… just without it feeling or costing like we did.”

That’s the puzzle.

And it’s harder than it sounds, particularly around Melbourne at the moment where renovation costs are now commonly sitting somewhere between $3,500–$5,500/m2 for fairly standard work, with higher-end renovations pushing well beyond that.

And it's not just renovations. Even volume new home builders are now often being quoted somewhere around $2,500–$3,500/m2 before you start adding the things most people actually want.

People are feeling that pressure now. Because most renovations don’t blow up through one catastrophic decision. They drift through a series of individually sensible ones.

A bit more height.

A little less yard.

Improve the flow of the living area.

Convert a bedroom into a bathroom.

A second level because “while we’re here”.

Then suddenly the “small renovation” is behaving like an entirely different project.

Most people already have plenty of ideas anyway.

SketchUp models. Pinterest boards. Material palettes. Floor plans. Entire concepts worked through with AI before an architect has even entered the conversation.

The real tension isn’t a lack of ideas. It’s that the vision, the structure, the planning overlays and of course the budget haven’t fully met each other yet.

I think this is becoming the real work. Not generating more ideas. Working out which ones survive once budget, planning, structure, family life and reality all arrive at the same meeting and start fighting over the last remaining square metre like seagulls attacking a snag outside Bunnings.

Because restraint isn't necessarily building less.

Sometimes restraint means being ruthless about what really matters.

The projects that seem simplest from the outside often involve the hardest decisions. Keeping a tree instead of adding another room. Adding height instead of a walk-in robe. Working with the existing roof rather than rebuilding it. Spending money on light, orientation and flow instead of more floor area.

The trick is not asking, “What else can we improve?”

It's asking, “If we could only improve three things, what would change our lives the most?”

That's usually where the good projects start separating themselves from the expensive ones.

If you're trying to separate the good ideas from the expensive ones, a 30-minute conversation can help.