Laneway Lovers & Market Treasures: A 3-Day Romantic Shopping & Markets Escape in Melbourne

The day begins with the smell of butter and espresso drifting out of Le Petit Gateau on Little Collins, as office workers in sharp tailoring queue for their sugar fix and the hiss of milk steamers bounces off glass towers. From there, you slip into Melbourne’s more contemplative side at the National Gallery of Victoria, where the sound of the water wall is like static and polished concrete floors cool the soles of your shoes while you move between Indigenous works and European canvases. Lunch is a stroll away at the Fresh Food Markets Melbourne at Queen Victoria Market, where the air is thick with the scent of grilled seafood, cured meats and just-cut herbs, and you graze from stall to stall rather than committing to a single plate. Afternoon light turns golden in the Block Arcade, where Keshett’s antique rings glitter under warm lamps and the tiled floor feels faintly cool underfoot; this is where you try on future-heirloom pieces just for the thrill of it. As the city softens into evening, you ride the lift to Vue de monde, where linen-draped tables and tall windows frame a city that looks suddenly very grown-up, every glass clinked against a skyline you’ve been walking through all day. Later, you duck through to Santana Rooftop Bar, where the air smells faintly of cigar smoke and citrus peel and the city hums below, a low, constant soundtrack. Tomorrow, the edges get looser—Fitzroy’s paint-splattered alleys and vintage racks are waiting.

You wake to the softer edges of Fitzroy, where Smith Street is already alive with the rattle of roller doors and the smell of strong coffee drifting from Burnside. The concrete is cool underfoot as you claim a window seat, watching dogs and denim jackets go past while your toastie arrives oozing cheese. Late morning is devoted to Treasure Vintage and Buzzkill Vintage on Brunswick Street, where hangers scrape quietly along metal racks and your fingers move over denim, silk and worn-in cotton, piecing together outfits from other decades. Lunch is a pause at Liberty’s Heart on Smith Street, a cozy, plant-filled space that feels more like someone’s living room than a store, the air scented with brewed tea and fresh fabric. Afternoon drifts between Cass and Franc’s curated homewares and Connection’s perfumed shelves on Chapel-adjacent Prahran, where candles, ceramics and niche fragrances invite the kind of slow browsing that turns into accidental purchases. As the sky darkens, you slide into a booth at The Shady Lady, where the lighting is low, the soundtrack is singalong karaoke and the walls seem to soak up secrets. By the time you spill back onto Johnston Street, arms full of tote bags, you’ve started to feel less like visitors and more like regulars-in-training, ready for tomorrow’s more polished southside fantasy.

By day three, you’ve found your rhythm, and it starts gently with a wander through the Royal Botanic Gardens, where the air smells of damp earth and eucalyptus and the only sound is the crunch of gravel paths and distant birds. The Shrine of Remembrance rises nearby, its stone cool and solemn under your hands as you take in the city framed through its balustrades, a quiet counterpoint to the consumer pleasures of the past two days. Late morning slides into lunch in South Melbourne at Lana Berg, where racks of clothes brush your arms as you move toward a small change room, fabrics soft against your skin as you find pieces that feel like the best version of you. Afternoon pulls you back toward the CBD’s Royal Arcade trilogy: Reigne Jewellery, SkyGem & Co. and AMIH Jewellery, each a different flavour of sparkle under the arcade’s arched glass ceiling and checkerboard tiles. You drift between them, comparing settings and stones, maybe marking a future engagement or simply honouring the joy of trying on beautiful things. As the light fades, you tram-hop to Windsor, where dinner at Fortress Melbourne is more playful than polished—poutine, tacos and the hum of gaming screens—before sliding next door to MuNoir or Ines Wine Bar for a final, grown-up toast. The night smells of red wine and warm pavement, and the city feels less like somewhere you visited and more like somewhere you briefly, deliciously lived.