Singapore’s skyline is always changing. Today, we see sleek, 40-storey HDB blocks with sky gardens, sheltered linkways, and modern facilities. A far cry from the humble 12- or 15-storey blocks that once dotted our neighbourhoods.
But before these towering flats reshaped our cityscape, older estates carried their own quiet charm, void decks where kids played, corridors that doubled as mini living rooms, and neighbours who knew each other by name.
In this piece, we revisit some of Singapore’s most recognisable HDB blocks that no longer exist. From the colourful Rochor Centre to the early Queenstown flats and take a look at what stands in their place today.
Contents
Rochor Centre: Demolished in 2018
Image credit: Jayantika Soni
Built in the 1970s under HDB’s urban renewal programme, Rochor Centre was part of the government’s push to rehouse people living in slum-like conditions back then. Completed in 1977, it started out looking rather ordinary, just another set of beige flats in the city.
It wasn’t until the late 2000s that it got its famous makeover. The blocks were repainted in bright, joyful shades of red, blue, yellow, and green. And just like that, Rochor Centre went from forgettable to iconic. For years, it added a burst of colour to the dull morning traffic along the busy Rochor Road.
It wasn’t just a housing estate though. It was home to 183 small shops that sold everything from traditional joss paper to religious statues and household goods.
But by 2011, residents and shop owners received the bittersweet news: the government would acquire the site to make way for the North-South Corridor (NSC). Rochor Centre was demolished in 2018, clearing space for the new expressway project.
Soon, when the NSC is complete, a new integrated hub called Rochor Residences will rise on the same site, blending homes, offices, and retail spaces once again, though the old-school charm may be hard to replicate.
MacPherson Lane (Block 81-83): Yet to be demolished
Image credit: Remember Singapore
MacPherson Lane’s Blocks 81 to 83 are a rare sight. Old-school HDB blocks that are still standing, even after being picked for SERS (Selective En bloc Redevelopment Scheme) back in 2018.
Completed in 1968, they were once known as MacPherson Green, part of a small, self-contained estate built for everyday convenience, complete with a market-cum-hawker centre just downstairs.
Image credit: @limyaohui
Architecturally, they’re a nostalgic nod to HDB’s early design era, with open staircases on one side and a slightly off-centre lift column that gives the blocks their quirky, unbalanced charm. You don’t see flats like these anymore, the kind where corridors catch the afternoon breeze and neighbours chat across railings.
The market that once anchored the community was demolished in the late 2000s, but the flats remain, at least for now. These days, the blocks are used as temporary rental housing for residents waiting for their BTOs, giving them one last chapter of life before redevelopment inevitably catches up.
Redhill Close (Block 1-3, 5-22): Demolished in 2023
Image credit: Shaun Chng
If you ever heard older folks mention “Chek Lau Chu” (七楼厝), literally “seven-storey house” in Hokkien, they were probably talking about the old Redhill Close flats. Built in 1955 by the Singapore Improvement Trust (SIT), these pre-HDB blocks were among the earliest attempts at public housing, meant to give lower-income families a proper home in Bukit Merah.
Architecturally, Redhill Close was a gem. The flats had trapezoid roofs, curved façades, and open corridors that carried over from colonial-era design. A look you’d never mistake for today’s cookie-cutter blocks. They weren’t just homes; they were history in concrete form.
But life there wasn’t all peaceful. In the 1950s to 1970s, Redhill Close had quite the reputation. After dark, the area turned dicey with frequent robberies, gang fights, and break-ins. Things got so bad that residents banded together to form their own vigilante group, proving that community spirit sometimes came with a baseball bat.
SERS was announced in 2011, and demolition finally came in October 2023. As of now, the site sits empty. A rare quiet spot in a city that rarely stands still.
Princess Elizabeth Park Estate: Demolished in 1978
Princess Elizabeth Park Estate, built in 1951-1952.
Image credit: James Tan
Before Hillview became the quiet, leafy neighbourhood it is today, it was home to something with a rather regal name: Princess Elizabeth Park Estate. Built by the Singapore Improvement Trust (SIT) in the early 1950s to commemorate the British royal wedding, it shared its name (and confusion) with another estate in Farrer Park, known as Princess Elizabeth Flats.
Image credit: National Library Board
Unlike the uniform HDB blocks we’re used to now, this estate had a distinct look, a design we rarely see today. The buildings were low-rise and characterful, reflecting the transitional style between colonial housing and early public flats. It was humble, but with a touch of class, as if the name “Princess” demanded at least that much.
Image credit: James Tann
By the late 1970s, Hillview’s industrial growth began to encroach on the area. The old estate gradually gave way to newer developments, and in 1978, Princess Elizabeth Park Estate was fully demolished. Today, it lives on only in old photos and the memories of those who once called it home.
Bukit Ho Swee post fire redevelopment: Demolished & replaced in 1961
Image credit: Remembering HDB Estates
Few estates in Singapore carry a story as dramatic as Bukit Ho Swee’s. In May 1961, a massive fire swept through the kampung, destroying about 2,800 homes and leaving more than 16,000 people without shelter. What followed became one of Singapore’s biggest public housing turning points.
Then–Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew promised the victims that they would have new homes within nine months, and remarkably, he delivered. By September that same year, the new Bukit Ho Swee Estate was ready.
Because speed was the top priority, the flats were built fast and simple. Sturdy, no-frills “slab blocks” that did exactly what they needed to: put roofs over heads. These were some of HDB’s earliest success stories, marking the transition from kampung life to modern public housing.
Image credit: Darren Soh
Over time, many of those post-fire blocks like Blocks 2, 4, 6, 22, 24, 26, 28, 30, and 32 were demolished and replaced by newer developments. A few others, including Blocks 10, 12, 14, 16, 18, and 20, were preserved as quiet witnesses to the estate’s fiery past.
Today, Bukit Ho Swee is just another calm residential estate, its streets orderly and unassuming. You’d never guess the chaos and resilience that once defined it.
Jalan Teck Whye: Demolished between 1988-1991
Image credit: National Archives of Singapore
Before Junction 10 became a suburban hangout for café-hoppers and grocery runs, the land it sat on had a much humbler purpose. In the 1970s, four blocks of flats were built along Jalan Teck Whye to house workers employed in the growing Jurong Industrial Estate nearby.
These were simple, functional, and spacious by today’s standards. Back then, land wasn’t as scarce, and the government could afford to build bigger units that gave families room to breathe. Nothing fancy, but it worked.
Image credit: Darren Soh
As Singapore’s population grew and land became tighter, such low-rise housing became a luxury we couldn’t keep. Between 1988 and 1991, the Jalan Teck Whye flats were demolished to make way for newer developments and denser housing.
Today, the area is almost unrecognisable. The site is now home to Junction 10 and the surrounding blocks near Jalan Teck Whye and Teck Whye Avenue, a lively mix of retail and residential life where factory workers once returned home to quiet evenings.
Yung Ping, Yung Kuang Road (Block 5-10): Redeveloped in 2012-2013
Image credit: Remember Singapore
Before Jurong was filled with sleek BTOs and giant malls, it was home to some of Singapore’s most uniquely designed industrial-era flats. Built by JTC (Jurong Town Corporation), the blocks along Yung Ping and Yung Kuang Road, numbered 5 to 10 were instantly recognisable.
Each pair of blocks shared common lifts, link bridges, and corridors, forming a distinctive ‘H’ shape when viewed from above. It wasn’t just clever design, it was practical, letting neighbours from adjacent blocks easily visit each other.
Image credit: Google Maps
These flats were built to house workers who powered Jurong’s rapid industrialisation. When Taman Jurong was first established in 1964, it symbolised Singapore’s transformation from swampy outskirts to a thriving manufacturing hub.
In 2006, HDB announced the en-bloc redevelopment of the area, and by 2010, the last residents had moved out. Today, the site has been fully redeveloped, sitting right beside Jurong’s iconic Diamond Block, a rare surviving relic of the old Jurong skyline
Dakota Crescent: Some blocks remain, some demolished in 2005
Image credit: Raftel88
Dakota Crescent isn’t just old, it’s a living slice of Singapore’s history. Built by the Singapore Improvement Trust (SIT) in 1958, this estate originally sheltered families who had survived or were descended from victims of the many devastating kampung fires that swept across Singapore in those days, most famously the “Friday the 13th Fire.”
The estate was once part of the larger Kallang Airport Estate and over the years, blocks were added to accommodate a growing population. Blocks 68, 70, and 72, completed later, were selected for SERS in 1999 and demolished by 2005.
Image credit: @mr.rodinal
By 2014, Dakota Crescent was earmarked for further redevelopment under Mountbatten’s estate-renewal plans, and the remaining residents had moved out by the end of 2016. But here’s where Dakota Crescent keeps its charm: in December 2017, authorities announced that the central cluster of six blocks (10, 12, 14, 16, 18, and 20), along with the beloved Dove Playground would be conserved.
So while much of the estate gave way to modern developments, part of its kampung spirit still survives, quietly reminding passersby of Singapore’s humble beginnings.
Nostalgia of HDB blocks that no longer exist
There’s something deeply comforting about remembering the HDB blocks that no longer stand. To outsiders, they were just old flats. But to former residents, they were worlds of their own: the echo of slippers in corridors, the smell of dinner from next door, the click of a metal gate at night.
When these estates make way for new developments, it’s not just buildings that vanish, but entire ways of life. The void decks, mama shops, and open stairwells that shaped daily routines give way to sleek façades and digital locks.
Redevelopment is part of Singapore’s story, it keeps the city growing. Yet each demolition takes a piece of memory with it. The challenge isn’t to resist change, but to carry those stories forward through conservation, photos, or even a passing “I used to live there.”
For your daily dose of nostalgia:
Cover image adapted from: Jayantika Soni, Remembering HDB Estates
Drop us your email so you won't miss the latest news.
