Well, it had to happen. During the night there was a destabilisation of the space-time continuum, obviously centred on my apartment, and I've lost several weeks. It is simply the only explanation. Oh yeah! Well, how do you explain this then.....
Awaking this morning, I pulled on my best pair of tatty jeans and matching tatty t-shirt (I'm a tatty style-meister) and stepped out of the front door for one of my rambles of a Sydney location. Soon discovering myself barefoot, I re-entered my home to complete the ensemble with necessary footwear. Todays excursion would be to Bondi Junction shopping centre, to see the "beautiful" people.
Bondi Junction shopping centre is famous for ear candling and the largest collection of diet books on sale anywhere in the world. It is a place to see and be circumvented, especially if you do not reside in Sydney's eastern suburbs. From the moment I stepped inside the complex, the complete lack of gel in my hair and the wearing of shoes that cost less than dollars 200 singled me out. Even though it is still October there are a smattering of chri$tma$ decorations appearing in the hallways SO either the explanation in my first paragraph holds true or these are decorations they haven't yet taken down from last chri$tma$. I'm right aren't I ?
The "beautiful" people who swarm through Bondi Junction shopping centre are generally dressed like shit, but a much classier kind of shit as in expensive shit. At least compared to me. Which doesn't really say much. The fashion of the season with the ladies is a pair of thongs (expensive ofcourse) with matching coloured toenail polish (which is more expensive than the thongs). The fashion for the gentlemen is a thong wearing girlfriend with coloured toenail polish that matches his car. Trinny and Susannah are full of shit, and it appears that when it comes to todays fashion I may just be the next guru.
The best seller for the day were small pots containing a turds worth of face mud for the quite reasonable price of too much. Applied liberally to the face of an evening, it is designed to open the skins pores to release the stress of credit card debt and enrich with essential something or others that I can't remember so may not be all that essential. The scientific evidence clearly indicated that nine out of ten Hollywood celebrities hadn't said the product was total rubbish and this seemed to be good enough as a flurry of desperates rushed the counter waving their visa's, mastercards, and american express's in the air in a desperate attempt to get one of the last few thousand pots of the product still left for sale. Indeed I could hear many bitchy comments and see the occasional catfight in the queue with the requisite tears. But finally, the gentleman all got their pots of goop and were busy calling their girlfriends on their mobiles as they were off doing something else, probably buying thongs.
While riding on the train back to civilisation, I reflected on my visit to see the "beautiful" people. I've always believed that it is important to travel to new places and experience different cultures and I felt richer for the experience. I was dissappointed to not see Lara Bongle (hey, when she learns how to spell her name, so will I) at Bondi Junction shopping centre, but frankly if you want to see celebrities it's still the place to go. All the "beautiful" people seem to look like someone famous..... sometimes disturbingly so.
Preposterous pedanticism: Isn't the correct misspelling Lara Bungle?
ReplyDeleteApart from that, not a word to say against this post. Hits the spot, I must say.
Indeed! Hits the spot as only a perfect morning cappucino lands in the pit of a severely caffeine defficient coffeeholic's tumtum. I for one spent my formative years immersed amongst the fiendishly rich and beningly frivolous of the Junction. This was pre-rennovation, when tatty was as tatty did, and you could deck the halls with yourself ensconsed in nary more than a hypercolour t-shirt and mismatching toenail polish. But, with the Westfieldisation of the Junction, the glass and steel set have moved in, the Aspirationals with them, and the only, ONLY good thing to emerge from all this is that Norton Street Grocer has moved about ten neighbourhoods eastward towards my parents' home so my Mum has NO excuse to not buy decent salad dressing oil (helpful for my weekly visit and salad munching) and the one other, a huge and cavernous cinema playing a variety of grandmother-friendly flicks is now within kvetching* distance of my Nanna's Bondi homelet.
ReplyDeleteA marvellous description, the mud pack pot made me weep with delight. How I loathe it's Junctionity, and how I am charmed by your open-eyed explorer's brave eye upon this feat of mediocrity that is the biggest, perhaps, mall in the southern hemisphere.
*complaining.
Tim... I believe you are right that I was wrong, right? Akchooly on a kwerty keebord the oh, yoo, and eye keez r ryte necksd 2 eech otha sow eet woz uhn eezy misstayke 2 mayke. Eye iz hu rooly eggsellent spella yoosherly.
ReplyDeleteMitzi... indeed there will be no mud packs for us real blokes (right Tim?), no just a slice of cucumber over each eyelid when I go to sleep. Unfortunately, I keep rolling over during the night and wake up with squashed cucumber stuck to the side of my head in the morning. This beauty regime is brutal.