Beyond Mitchell Street

Last night I ended up at Monsoons, a fixture of Darwin bar life for as long as I’ve been visiting. It happened to be ladies’ night, and when I asked someone whether I should hang around to see the visiting bachelors from Married at First Sight, the response came without hesitation: of course. After all, more than half the crowd on ladies’ night is usually men anyway. It was said matter-of-factly, and it tracks perfectly with Darwin itself. with more men than women living here. I think it was pretty much the same when I first visited in the late 1990s.

Back then, Mitchell Street was the absolute centre of entertainment—pulsing with the energy of the Jabiluka protesters (visiting at the time) and swollen by a huge, young population, in the middle of the dry season. Even now, almost three decades later it remains the city’s main artery for bars and nightlife, but I’ve come to realise that if you stick only to the familiar neon of the strip, you miss the real soul of the place.

This trip to Darwin began with me falling into old habits: Shenanigans (known as Shags) and The Tap, both hosting those quintessential solo guitar cover song acts.

They’re fine—comfortable, even—but Darwin’s current charm feels increasingly hidden away in its laneways.

That’s where I stumbled upon what some locals call “Darwin’s little secret”: Charlie’s. Finding it felt like a quiet reward for wandering. Tucked down a back lane, with a lift that makes the upstairs space accessible to everyone, it offers something genuinely rare here—a breezy second floor, attentive staff who aren’t absorbed by their phones, and a sense that you’ve earned your seat simply by being curious enough to look.

Research tells me the bar was founded in January 2020 and grew out of a simple but distinctly Territorian idea: to produce a locally made gin using native Northern Territory botanicals such as Kakadu plum, native lemongrass, and water lily, many of which are foraged locally and in collaboration with Indigenous communities. I have visited twice, and I like it very much.

The other bar I’ve been to twice, which I also like very much is called Bustard Town, also located down a laneway in the middle of town. In contrast to lots of modern airconditioned bars in town, Bustard Town feels like something which might have existed here in earlier times. Research tells me it was opened by the team behind Willing Distillery. To a soundtrack of very cool beats, it feels like a tropical Darwin backyard. In a city long dominated by big pubs and loud rooms, it’s a place designed for sitting, talking, and staying longer than you intended.

As well as being Ladies Night, last night at Monsoons also featured a weekly Drag Bingo night. Last night, the co-host, dressed as the Easter Bunny, was my friend Lisa who has a drag king persona called Donnie Piccolo.

Spending an hour and a half laughing through a bingo session—despite my uncanny ability to miss numbers and never win anything—was a reminder that Darwin still knows how to entertain itself.

The city’s nightlife is also adjusting to what feels like a post‑Throb world. Throb was a cornerstone of the gay community for so long that its absence still feels tangible. I asked friends, “where will I go on a Friday night now that Throb has closed”? Yet the spirit it fostered hasn’t vanished; it resurfaces in unexpected and joyful ways beyond Mitchell Street.