Fuck the Norm: How Hunter Markets’ Founder Sarah Kokkinos Redefined Success

Words by: Hannah Cohen
Art by: Adrienne Aw

Hunter Markets is the second-hand thrift market based in Mentone, Melbourne that has spread like wildfire on social media. On brisk Sunday mornings, you’ll find a long line of coffee-clutching zoomers snaking around the market’s fairy-floss-pink brick walls, all waiting to get their thrift on.

Fuck the Norm: How Hunter Markets’ Founder Sarah Kokkinos Redefined Success

Growing Up in Love

Words by: Juliette Capomolla
Art by: Gabrielle Poh

For some unbeknownst reason, I was fortunate enough to stumble upon my long-term partner at the age of 16. Young, naive, and desperate for that Wattpad fanfic-like love story, it only took us a few dates to couple up, and only a month or so to say that L-word. Four years later, at the good old age of 20, my boyfriend and I are still going strong. 

Growing Up in Love

Superstitions

Words by: Leeann Bushnaq
Art by: Carla J. Romana

From the outside, the path to any kind of success, growth, or progress takes one of two routes. We see growth as scraping through the rubble. We see it as the might it takes to overcome setbacks and dig through the lowest of lows to get to the peaks. Or, we see it from the “started from the bottom now we’re here” perspective.

Superstitions

Diary of A (Former) Tall Poppy

Words by: Natasha Schapova
Art by: Stephanie Wong

Childhood. A blissful, almost utopian time in nearly everybody’s life, defined by happiness, purity and obliviousness. A time sprinkled with the belief that anything is possible, allowing us to swim in the wild and ornate potion of our imagination. We were assured that we could do anything that we set our minds to, and we embodied this mantra in every response to “what do you want to do when you grow up?”.

Diary of A (Former) Tall Poppy

That Home

Words by: Xenia Sanut
Art by: John Paul Macatol

I wake up to butterflies. Paper butterflies circle the ceiling above me. With the butterflies, photographs hang from thin strings. They mark the places I’ve been, the friends I’ve made and lost, my family — whether they be in the room next to me, an ocean away, or looking down at me — either from heaven or from those photographed moments in time

That Home