By Gaynor Alder

First Published on Flight Centre Travel Blog

“Flight Centre guest blogger Gaynor Alder is introducing you to five places she always takes her guests when they visit her in Melbourne. Gaynor has told us about the wonderful Spice Market and now we hear about suggestion number 2, the mouthwatering Spanish sensation Movida. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Take notes, this lady sure knows her stuff when it comes to her beloved Melbourne.” – Samantha Locke, Flight Centre

Nestled in one of Melbourne’s famous graffiti covered laneways, there’s a reason it can take you months to get into this Melbourne institution. Known as “the spirit of Spain in the heart of Melbourne”, people happily queue for hours to indulge in their Spanish tapas and fine wines.

Tapas is perfect for travellers who want to sample the best a restaurant has to offer in a new city. Try Movida’s Spiced Chicken Escabache Tapa on crisp Crouton, Pyrenees wet roast Lamb Breast with Fino and Paprika sauce, Slow cooked Duck Shank with Hazelnuts, Raisins and Onions or their Salt Cod & Potato Fritters with Lemon Emulsion for a truly sublime tapas experience

Of course, “when in Rome”, it would be sacrilege not to try one of their Spanish wines, but Movida also has an extensive wine list with local and other international wines to accompany your meal.

Movida’s culinary expertise is so revered that there have been two cook books released in their honour. “Movida: Spanish Culinary Adventures” and “Movida Rustica: Spanish Traditions and Recipes”.

“It makes perfect sense that there should be an interplay between the cuisines of Australia and Spain. From the similarity of the climate, to the laid back lifestyle and the pleasure we take from the company of friends and family.” – LifestyleFood.com.au

By Mala McAlpin

The Modern Woman’s Survival Guide invites you all to a night out with artist and designer Colin Heaney as he showcases his latest collections of exquisite fashion, resort wear and homewares, brought to you by Albert Park’s new concept boutique (or gallery, as the creaters prefer to think of it as) The Nomad Project. Enjoy a glass of sangria as you are captivated by Heaney’s gorgeous collaboration of exotic colours and prints, and not only experience his works but meet the artist himself.

Colin Heaney’s artworks span over a much larger field than just fashion or homewares. Previously, his main fields of choice were 3D sculptures and furniture, including successfully designing his own dream Byron Bay home. Other art medias that Heaney has dabbled in include glass, metals, wood, stone, resin and wax, and his unique and inspiring artworks can be found all over the world. Colin’s resort wear collection, which he began in 2009, has made it’s way into high end resorts and boutiques in the lavish Bahamas, the sunny beaches of Miami other exotic and luscious locations worldwide.

Heaney’s fashion collection includes a wide variety of luxury silk Kaftans, headbands and scarves, glass and silk jewellery, swimwear, leggings and dresses. Each masterpiece is intricately designed and crafted as one highly unique piece of wearable art. Colin’s ingenious print designs are also completely his own works. He simply uses images of his world-renowned glass creations and digitally remasters them to create wonderful and extraordinary fashion. Heaney’s homewares collection will transform any home and suit any decor, including a wide variety of satin-feel, durable cushions, glass statues and goblets. Colin even does prints and gift cards (is there anything this man can’t do?!).

Colin Heaney’s artworks are a true phenomenon and inspiration, and his breathtaking exhibition will be more than worth a visit.

We at the Modern Woman’s Survival Guide would be thrilled for all to attend, as it’s sure to be, in all senses of the word, a very colourful evening. Hope to see you there!

Colin Heaney

The Nomad Project(Host)

First Published on The Flight Centre Blog, 10th November 2011

Flight Centre guest blogger Gaynor Alder is introducing you to five places she always takes her guests when they visit her in Melbourne. Take notes, this lady sure knows her stuff when it comes to her beloved Melbourne. – Sam Locke, Flight Centre.

Melbourne embraced me with open arms, and I’ve never looked back. Why do I love thee so you ask? Besides the undeniable style, culture, cafes, restaurants, bars, shopping, and the European architecture, it’s because in Melbourne you can be whoever you want to be. Come and explore Melbourne with me – the Melbourne that calls to me when I wake up every day, and says, I have secrets, come and find them.

Stop #1 The Spice Market

I distinctly remember the first time I entered the Spice Market. The grandeur entrance swept me off my feet with its opulence and the Middle Eastern inspired decor transported me to another world. I was taken on a sensory journey as I explored the bars and private lounges of the Persian Room and Shanghai Lounge, but it wasn’t until I sunk into my plush couch that I was able to fully absorb the ambience of the stunning and unique surrounds.

“The lavish Spice Market takes its inspiration from the ancient spice route travelled by traders of old, and has been exquisitely furnished to reflect this famous journey from Asia Minor through to the Far East. Honouring the Melbourne tradition of laneways and discovery, Spice Market is entered from Beaney Lane, off Russell St, adjacent to the Grand Hyatt Melbourne.” – The Spice Market.

Click here to read the full article on The Flight Centre Blog.

Image Credit: 1

First Published on the Flight Centre Blog, November 3rd 2011

“Meet Gaynor Alder, a Melbourne based writer with a penchant for all things vintage glamour. Gaynor is originally from Perth and  has now settled in Melbourne after a long term love affair with Paris. Gaynor is the ‘go to woman’ for all things stylish in Melbourne.” – Samantha Locke, Flight Centre Social Media Manager

When not gallivanting around the countryside as a Travel Writer or being the Style Expert for ‘Art of the Cocktail Hour’, you will find her as Editor-in-Chief at The Modern Woman’s Survival Guide, penning her thoughts and writing of her day to day adventures. During November Gaynor will be sharing her top 5 places to dine in Melbourne tips with us.

First of all, here is Gaynor’s story…

As the great Frank Sinatra sings, Melbourne is “my kinda town”. Well, it has been since 2001.  I grew up in Perth with the beach, hot summer nights, endless heat waves and running under the sprinklers in my bathers. I love that Perth was my childhood and I wouldn’t swap it for anything.

As most “Perthites” do, I had an insatiable urge to spread my wings and travel overseas so at 22, I quit my job and bought a one way ticket to England. The plan? Make it up as I go along. I cleaned out my bank account and exchanged it into pounds, leaving me with just enough money to buy a meal at Burger King in London.

As soon as I stepped off the train at Gare De Nord station in Paris, a shiver ran up and down my spine and tears streamed down my face. London may not have been the city for me, but Paris certainly was. I had spent so much time thinking I was some kind of failure for not being able to crack London, when in fact, I never belonged there, and nor did I ever want to. London was frenetic, cold and masculine. Au contraire, Paris was welcoming, serene and feminine. I think it was what you call, love at first sight.

After gallivanting around the UK and Europe for a year, I returned home to Perth, and experienced the horrible transition most have when returning to the motherland. I did my best to fit back into Perth, but I had outgrown it, and like a jumper that has been put through the wash and shrunk, it no longer fit me. Whilst trying to squeeze myself into a city that no longer felt like home, Melbourne started calling my name. Call it an existential crisis if you will, but I prefer to call it destiny.

I booked a ticket for a holiday to see what all the fuss was about, and Melbournedidn’t disappoint me. I wined and dined the city, whilst swiping and signing my plastic along Chapel St. I was smitten with the European lamps, cobblestone streets, lane ways with hidden bars and cool cafes. By the end of the trip, I was certain of one thing. I was moving to Melbourne.

Keep your eye out for my top 5 places to dine in Melbourne tips coming to the Flight Centre blog during November.

Coco Chanel said fashion fades but style is eternal, and I think it’s safe to say that she would have considered manners the height of style. Not the pretend kind of style that uses social status or designer labels to project a certain image, but the real kind that emanates from within and radiates beauty, elegance and class. Don’t get me wrong, I adore a good designer frock, actually, no scratch that, make that, love a good designer frock, but clothing is never a substitute for substance.

I met a lot of people during Melbourne Spring Fashion Week, and was lucky enough to have some great conversations with inspiring, interesting and lovely people. Monsieur Richard Lambert, the global ambassador for Cointreau was a particular highlight – polite, charming and genuine. Oui, oui. But some people forgot to pack their manners in their handbags and it left such a bad taste in my mouth, that no amount of fancy cocktails could disguise it.

You see, I don’t do bullshit, and I certainly don’t appreciate being discarded like last season’s fashion, just because someone more “important” comes along, and all of a sudden I become a nobody. And, oh, whilst we’re on the subject of somebodies and nobodies – I’m sure as hell not interested in being considered a somebody by people like that. I’m not saying I want to be your new best friend (I have my own), but I do expect you to display manners 101 at the very least.

I’m not interested in talking with people because of their status, who they know and how important other people consider them to be. I’m interested in talking with people because of who they are. If I have to be Gaynor from XYZ in order for you to want to talk with me, then, quite frankly, I’d rather be having root canal than entertain a false and shallow conversation with you. And I’d rather you didn’t waste my time in the first instance, because I could do without all the pretend before you proceed to offend and disrespect me.

Tonight was the complete opposite. A fabulous dinner party with a beautifully set table adorned with flowers and candles, divine food and great tunes. But they key ingredient was the people. Fabulous people. Genuine people. People who make me laugh. People I love. People worth spending my time with.

Remember, there will always be wankers and pretentious people whose bad manners and smug demeanours will make you want to do a small vomit in your mouth. The trick is to navigate your way around them whilst holding your head high, knowing who you are and what you stand for. Because pretentious people with bad manners certainly aren’t cool, nor do they have style or substance.

Bad manners will always be out of vogue in my book.

Note from Editor of Onya Magazine: “Stephanie Little visited the little gallery that could, nestled in Greville Street, Melbourne, that displays its artwork in a very different way – and that also houses a comprehensive collection of Australian and international artists.”

Excerpt from article by Stephanie Little

“Signed & Numbered is the creation of 28 year old Melbournian, Jacqui Vidal. While travelling in Europe, Jacqui discovered a tiny hole-in-the-wall – barely a shop – selling touristy pictures of the Louvre and the Seine. Jacqui fell in love with the informal but perpetually busy space and marveled at how the art was displayed. Rather than gazing at pictures on walls, customers were able to flick through prints encased in hard-backed sleeves, much like flicking through vinyl in their local record shop.”

Click here to read full article in Onya Magazine

The following article is by the fabulous Miss Sarah Kempson, Fashion Editor of Onya Magazine:

“Spring sprung early yesterday as Melbourne Spring Fashion Week was launched in spectacular fashion on the steps of the iconic Town Hall. With real grass, gorgeous garden furniture and spring blooms, the cold and dreary Melbourne day was definitely overshadowed by the colour and life at the launch.”

Click here to read the full article by Sarah Kempson in Onya Magazine

“I met my soul mate back in 2001, and immediately fell head over heels in love – I guess you could call it love at first sight. After a long distance relationship spanning nearly a decade, the object of my affections got down on a bended knee, and proposed my hand in marriage. I finally made the move to be together and since then we’ve never looked back.

Please do forgive me if I sound like I am bragging, but I’m happy to report that we’re still going strong after all this time. So just who is this man? Well, it’s time to come clean and declare to the world that my major relationship is with a city.

What draws us to be with certain cities over others? What is it about a city that has us pack our bags and leave our life behind to move to the other side of a country and even to other sides of the world?  Is it the energy of a city that attracts the people to it, or is it the collection of the people’s energy that makes a city what it is?”

Click here to read the full article on The Soul Princess of Oslo’s blog

Just who is “The Soul Princess of Oslo?” This strong and sassy princess is a self confessed happily single girl living in Norway, who still pines about her time in Melbourne. She started her blog to abate her boredom, and as an outlet for the millions of ideas that run through her mind on a daily basis. When she’s not blogging, you can find her drinking endless cups of tea and spending time with people who inspire her creatively. Not afraid to be opinionated, the Soul Princess of Oslo loves people who are proud to be individuals.

Most of these bars require you to know someone who knows someone, to give you directions to the latest secret destination. I fondly remember my initiation into the Melbourne bar scene during my first visit from Perth in 2001. After perilously navigating cobblestone lanes in my heels, we finally came across the right lane-way. My first thought was there was no way I was taking my heels down a lane-way littered with rubbish, but our source was reliable, so venture on did I.

At the end of the lane-way was a deserted looking warehouse door. Not even sure if we were at the right place, we pushed against the door to discover a set of rickety wooden steps – again, my heels did protest. After making it to the top of two flights of stairs, we were finally met by a cash register to indicate, that yes it was indeed a bar.

Turning the corner, the interior completely changed. Hanging from the roof was a giant chandelier and a grand piano was nestled in the middle of a dance floor. Hello Honky Tonks. However, after some time, the path to the secret doors become well trodden and the atmosphere seems to lose its sparkle and the quality of the crowd doth diminish. Narnia would hardly be as special if they were selling tickets at the wardrobe door now would it?

Although Penny Blue is not a new bar, nor is it as difficult to locate, it was still a delightful discovery. Located on Driver Lane in the city, it is positioned next to MOO restaurant, which takes its name from the old Money Order Office it now inhabits. Penny Blue appropriately takes its name from the second postal stamp produced in Australia.

Entering Penny Blue, I was immediately enamoured by the intimate cool and loungey atmosphere and the large ornate french chair covered in cushions, which has enough room for three. It ever so delicately beckons, come sit on me, invite your friends, pull up a pew, and let’s converse into the early hours. Not only did the conversation flow, but so did the wine and tapas. If I was taken by the Christopher Guy decor, the wall to wall selection of wines equally as impressive, as was the tapas.

Penny Blue is the perfect place to meet friends on a week night, or as a place to start your night on the weekend.

Penny Blue

2 Driver Lane Melbourne

The Spice Market was my favourite Melbourne bar of 2009 (no, it’s not a market selling spices). So why is it called Spice Market then you ask?

“The lavish Spice Market takes its inspiration from the ancient spice route travelled by traders of old, and has been exquisitely furnished to reflect this famous journey from Asia Minor through to the Far East. Honouring the Melbourne tradition of laneways and discovery, Spice Market is entered from Beaney Lane, off Russell St, adjacent to the Grand Hyatt Melbourne.

Upon entering the subterranean world of the Spice Market, you are transported to a more exotic time and place. Owners, Dean and Geremy Lucas and Robert and Victor Zagame have travelled the world collecting antiques, unique furniture and objects of art, combining them with luxe fabrics, an abundance of colour, handcrafted ceramic, and glass mosaics rich in every detail.”

I distinctly remember the first time I entered the Spice Market. The entrance was grand, and I was swept off my feet with opulence and the Middle Eastern inspired decor left me feeling like I was in another world. The outside world seemed to no longer exist, as I explored the bars and private lounges of the Persian Room and Shanghai Lounge. It took some time to take in everything around me, from the black birdcages hanging from the roof, to the burnt orange tiles in the kitchen catching my eye, but it was the Belle Epoque Lounge that was to truly make me swoon with ardent desire.

The ultimate in luxury, this lounge is the only one of its kind in Australia. 14 guests will be taken care of by a private attendant, and given the same service reserved for royalty. From Tuesday to Thursday there is a minimum spend of $1500 to book the room, and there is a minimum spend of $2500 for Friday and Saturday. Expensive yes, but do not fear, there are plenty of spaces to dine and drink at the Spice Market that do not require you booking a lounge.

Their mouth watering tapas is second to none. The hummus is silky, the lemon infused chicken wings are tender and the Turkish bread is soft. The drinks menu is also impressive with a beautiful selection of wine and a martini to please everyone.

Even though by Melbourne standards, the Spice Market might now be a bit “yesterday” with there surely being a new laneway bar being the latest underground destination, it is still somewhere I take all my Melbourne guests as one of the first ports of call. I do prefer the ambiance of Tuesday & Wednesday nights, where I feel the Spice Market is reflected in its true light, whereas on a Friday night there is a DJ, the lines are long to get in (at least an hour wait) and the crowd is much less classy.

ImageSource

http://fifototemp.ipower.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/melbourne-2009-092.jpg

As the great Frank Sinatra sings, Melbourne is “my kinda town”. Well, it has been since 2001. You see, I grew up in Perth with the beach, hot summer nights, endless heatwaves and running under the sprinklers in my bathers. I love that Perth was my childhood. I really do. I wouldn’t swap it for anything.

However, as most “Perthites” do, I had an insatiable urge to spread my wings and travel overseas (maybe it was from doing all those primary school projects on European countries and cutting out pictures from brochures my nanna got me from the travel agent). At 22, I quit my job and bought a one way ticket to England. The plan? Make it up as I go along.

I remember just before I left, a friend told me about her time living overseas in a ski resort (just the kind of adventure I had been lusting over that led me to cleaning out my bank account and exchanging it into pounds, leaving me with just enough money to buy a meal at Burger King). She said that during her 3 years overseas, she had the highest of highs, but the lowest of lows.

Yes, the lows were low, but the highs were oh so high, that they made every single moment of living in London worthwhile (a story I will save for my book). There were Natalie and Hazel (two very très fabuleux girls), the millennium new years eve in Edinburgh, living in the beautiful English countryside, traveling through the Rocky Mountains for 3 weeks and then there was Paris.

As soon as I stepped off the train at Gare De Nord station, a shiver ran up and down my spine and tears streamed down my face. London may not have been the city for me, but Paris certainly was. I had spent so much time thinking I was some kind of failure for not being able to crack London, when in fact, I never belonged there, and nor did I ever want to. London was frenetic, cold and masculine. Au contraire, Paris was welcoming, serene and feminine. I think it was what you call, love at first sight.

It immediately felt like home, like I had been there before. But, I had never been to Paris, nor had I any feelings for it, other than it being the place with the Eiffel Tower (an obligatory holiday snap to send home to family and friends – this was back in the day when you took photos on film and had to post them back home).

After gallivanting around the UK and Europe for a year, I returned home to Perth, and experienced the horrible transition most have when returning to the motherland. I did my best to fit back into Perth, but I had outgrown it, and like a jumper that has been put through the wash and shrunk, it not longer fit me. Whilst trying to squeeze myself into a city that no longer felt like home, Melbourne started calling my name. Call it an existential crisis if you will, but I prefer to call it destiny.

For, my time overseas (in particular Paris) had changed me. It had planted a seed of living a romantic life, and more than that, fulfilling my soul’s purpose. I was a on a mission. I was following my intuition on the path it was taking me down. There were questions, lots of questions, along with uncertainty in equal measures. But I had to listen to that voice that was telling me to move to Melbourne, even though I didn’t know why or what was there for me. Because destiny doesn’t trade in practicality or  reason. You either hop on for the ride, hold on tight and reach your destination, or stay in the same place you always have.

I booked a ticket for a holiday to see what all the fuss was about, and Melbourne didn’t disappoint me. My friend and I, wined and dined the city, whilst swiping and signing our plastic along Chapel St. I was smitten with the European lamps, cobblestone streets, lane ways with hidden bars and cool cafes. By the end of our trip, I was certain of one thing. I was moving to Melbourne.

In 2002, I packed up all my belongings and boarded a Qantas flight, destination me. However, it wasn’t all happily ever after and the stuff that dreams are made of. Try as I might, things just didn’t fall into place like I wanted them to. Mainly because I was sick, but again, that’s a story I’ll be saving for my book. I moved back to Perth in 2003, but I knew that I had unfinished business in Melbourne. I settled back into Perth, but, I am not really the settling kind of girl.

Every year without fail, Melbourne would beg me to return. It was as though we were soul mates who had a summer romance on holiday in an exotic location, but circusmtance had pulled us apart. We were meant to be together, but the best I could do, was visit every year to rekindle our romance, and give me the injection I needed to continue living my life elsewhere.

Then in 2007 after a particularly bad break-up, I found myself homeless in Perth during a rental crisis. Always one to look for the opportunity in troubled times, I joked to a friend, hey, I could just move to Melbourne. Three months later I was again on a Qantas flight. Melbourne embraced me with open arms, and I’ve never looked back. Why do I love thee so you ask? Besides the undeniable style, culture, cafes, restaurants, bars, shopping, and the European architecture, it’s because in Melbourne you can be whoever you want to be.

Melbournites embrace individuality, nurture creativity and support entrepreneurialism. Where I come from, if you don’t have a steady 9-5 job, a mortgage, a car and kids, you’re considered unstable. As beautiful as Perth is, it’s no place for a tall poppy like myself. I love being surrounded by people who are inspired, who have great ideas and make them happen, who never let other people’s beliefs tell them what they should or shouldn’t do – and there isn’t a lot of that going in Perth. In Perth, if you work part time and freelance on the side, people think you are weird. In Melbourne, you’re just fabulous.

I adore the French way of life, from the way they sit in cafes and people watch, celebrate femininity as an art form, eat from beautiful china and set the table. Life isn’t about continually rushing from one social event to another. They seem to savour the beauty of each moment. Relaxed and romantic. They don’t go to the supermarket once a week and throw things into their trolleys as quickly as they can to get the chore of shopping over and done with. They go to the butcher, the grocer for their fruit and vegetables, the bakery for their bread and the markets for their flowers.

You see, I’m like that. I enjoy working from home with a beautiful bunch of flowers on my desk, drinking endless cups of tea from my french cups, burning candles, looking out the window and pausing to stroll down to the shops to buy something for lunch. I hate being run by a relentless schedule that leaves you feeling like you are never really giving your best to anything and just going through the motions of life. I need time to breathe. Time to do nothing without having to label it and mark it into a calendar. I want to live, really live. Experience the joie de vivre of life. I am a French woman trapped in an Australian woman’s body – a mademoiselle in Melbourne.

Why not move to Paris you ask? Yes, a good question, a very good question you raise there. I have thought about it a lot (or should I say fantacised), but as much as I am Parisian, I too am Australian. Even though I live on the opposite side of the country from my mum, my dad, my Emily and my friends, it’s only a 4 hour plane trip and that is comforting. I couldn’t spend my life without being able to see my niece Emily grow up, or to hug her and spend real time with her. Because as much as I love writing and romancing Melbourne and Paris, I love her more. My dream is to live there 3 months of the year (“I’m just off to summer in Paris”) and spend the rest of the time, here in this fabulous city, I love more than false eyelashes need glue.

Like the perfect relationship, my connection with Melbourne was not only love at first sight, but familiarity hasn’t bred contempt. In fact it has only grown stronger and left me wanting to know more. So, come explore Melbourne with me. The Melbourne that calls to me when I wake up every day, and says, I have secrets, come and find them.

As I sit here sipping on a sauv blanc on a sultry Sunday evening, I find myself still high on the weekend’s shenanigans. I feel like a bride who spent months planning her wedding, to wondering where the day went and how fast it passed – can we do it all over again?

After spending an hour in a taxi to get to Flemington, I arrived hankering for a champagne to commence the day’s proceedings. My first champers quickly delivered its pleasure and took the edge off my bumper to bumper journey. I located the Impact Digital crew, including Stacey, or should I say Coco, who looked a vision of Chanel. Tiff was looking just as fabulous, not 5 weeks after giving birth to Coby (eat your heart out Victoria Beckham) in a black dress with the fascinator she wore to her wedding (yes instead of a veil, she wore a fascinator – what a woman). I met Rebecca in a fabulous purple Dianne Von Furstenberg number and reacquainted myself with some girls from last year.

It felt as though we were all still there from the same day last year, and I had a moment where I thought f**k, a whole year has passed, followed by lamenting just how fabulous a year it has been. The champage was free flowing and Coco urged us to “drink up, get pissed, it’s great”, to which we added “daaaarling”, and then Coco decided great just wasn’t cutting it and should indeed be replaced with fabulous, and ladies and gentlemen, fabulous we were.

Having spent $500 to roll myself out in a Carrie Bradshaw inspired pink dress with tulle complete with new shoes, well actually new everything, I was definitely going to circle the room. I enlisted Michael as my partner in crime – with the state of play being, I would approach the females to make an inroad for him, and vice versa. Alas, the pickings were grim. So grim, we started to play the “if you had to choose someone, who would you choose?” (reminiscent of Ricky Gervais in Extras), with Dipper Domenico being the best thing in the section of the room I had to choose from. As I said, grim.

I contemplated doing a walk from one end of Flemington to the other to share the love, but the lounge was far too comfortable, and my new peep toes weren’t up to the challenge (definitely not all day shoes). All too soon, we were again at the last race of the day and ready to move to the next destination. This year, we were heading to the Fringe Bar in Flemington, hence why we were walking in our heels up the long (did I say long?) path to the exit. At the 5 minute mark, Coco and I were in a world of pain. Our heels may have been fabulous, but they were cutting off the supply of blood to our feet and at any moment our knees were going to buckle from the pain. In desperation we flagged a taxi that was in a queue to the entrance. In a highly illegal move, the taxi driver motioned for us to come over, and Coco bargained with him like an 18 year old doing a dodgy drug deal on a corner street – “I’ll give you $50 to take us around the corner”. How much was I loving her!! We hopped in the taxi and immediately sighed in relief as we slipped off our heels. Our dignity may have cost $50, but taking off our shoes was never an option.

Upon arriving at the Fringe bar we were stamped “postage paid Australia” which enabled us entry into the VIP section and ensured the continuity of free flowing champers. Michael and I discussed the way forward for his new flame (a keeper if I ever did see one), and I secured a lighter for a friend in need (am happy to report I did not partake – am officially a born again non smoker). It was here, I met Dave. Unbeknownst to me, he was the guy I would find myself talking to later in the evening. It was also at this point, I was to employ my tactic of “see the man, not the suit” – one I had shared with the single ladies earlier that day. Many a woman has been duped by a bogan in a suit at the races, and I felt it my duty to protect them from the morning after buyer’s remorse, that comes from discovering that Armani Man is in fact a knuckle dragger.

After bantering for some time with “Dave the Dapper Electrician” (my synopsis post his suggestion he turn up to work in his good shoes and suit), I established that he is a self confessed workaholic (warning, warning Will Robinson – my Freudian relationship pattern is to attract unavailable men) and has never seen the insides of a theatre, but would be happy for me to write in the study on a Friday night whilst he watched the Bulldogs fight it out on TV. I hit the dance floor, safe in the knowledge that he was my entertainment for the evening, but not a contender for a LTR (long term relationship). Harsh, you might say, but I will also add he was equally distressed (and more than likely charmed in equal measures) that I don’t do offroad, don’t camp, don’t cook and don’t drive in utes – how on earth would I get into one in my heels?

It wasn’t before long, Dapper Dave and I were hailing a taxi and I found myself surrounded in the “ambience” of a room in the Elizabeth Towers. Think ye olde worlde charm – red carpets and orange curtains. I am sure if I went to the restaurant, I would have been greeted by King Arthur and his merry men eating huge legs of turkey at a round table. It was the kind of establishment that men would take women for affairs in their lunch break. It did however have a certain charm, which Dave and I discussed into the early hours of the morning.

You know you’ve had a great night (no, lets call it fabulous), when you find yourself returning home the day after in the dress from the day before, regretting that you didn’t bring your sunglasses with you to abate the cold hard light of day and wishing you could do the day all over again from the start.

Flemington 2010, Flemington 2010 … and yes Coco, I’m in for a double act next year – Emirates Stakes and Melbourne Cup here we come!