SASSY TOWN FOLLIES by Felicity Appleton no.21, June 6

King Street

King Street, Newtown is like a lot of things. Older people say it’s Bohemian. Real estate agents say it’s avant-garde (or they would if they had looked up “groundbreaking” at like I just did) – real estate agents have code words for everything: they would probably say that the whole suburb has “character”, which means it’s falling down. It is falling down and it’s unorthodox and Bohemian (my dad’s word) and it’s a bit like St. Kilda is in Melbourne – but it’s nothing like these places too. In fact, it’s becoming a bit expensive to live in the area now, and it’s not falling down nearly as much as it was. It’s a shame. I used to live there while I was at uni for almost a year, and it’s still one of my favourite places.

I was walking on King Street with my sis Arabella and my nephews Connor and Fergus, who are big boys and can be trusted to walk on the street but always hold their mummy’s or auntie’s hand, on the weekend. We had planned to go book shopping and have a coffee somewhere and get a slice of cherry pie from a new place called Mrs. Barrington’s Pie Shop. (The best cherry pie ever! You really must try it.) One of our art directors – all the arty people are directors, like all the accounts people are executives – asked me to look out for a book of Japanese wall paper designs, which has just come out, and I thought I should actually have a look rather than tell him to Google “Amazon Japanese wall paper book” (do I need to tell you I didn’t find it?). Guess what I told him to do on Monday.

So we were waiting at a crossing, and I looked our little group up and down. My high and low sass & bide dress was perhaps a little bit too much for the weekend, but it goes with a new pair of heels I bought online from an Italian company called Amore. They are red – the whole outfit is red – and I was looking good. The boys were dressed in Indie Kids by Industrie, looking very smart in their lumberjack shirts. Arabella doesn’t put as much effort into fashion for herself as she used to, but she says it makes her happy when strangers make comments about the little men being smartly dressed. On the other side of the road, also waiting to cross, was a young man with the sort of stubble which looks effortless but probably isn’t. He wore a cardigan and a sort of military boot and looked like a model. He had his arm around a woman who must have been about my age and who wore a very simple black boot with flat heel and a short trench coat, in stone colour, of course, and a pair of indigo jeans which hugged her figure without being really tight. She also wore a pair of glasses: a square, dark frame, which emphasised her cheekbones and made me almost swoon. I was in love. With her. She was so elegant.

I wanted to stop her as we passed them when the lights turned green, and ask for the labels she was wearing, but you know, that would have wrecked it somehow. It was more fun for the whole thing to remain a mystery.

Since then I’ve been spending a lot of time in optometrists, comparing frames and prices. I like Alex Perry’s best. The eye test showed I don’t need glasses yet, but I still might get a pair. I’m still looking.

Published in: on June 6, 2013 at 2:44 pm  Leave a Comment  

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