Lesley Truffle's Blog, page 2
November 23, 2024
Champagne Wishes and Caviar Dreams
Champagne Wishes & Caviar Dreams
Robin Leach – host of the 80’s television series, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous – provided humorous descriptions of yachts, mansions and private jets on his show. He signed off wishing his viewers, champagne wishes and caviar dreams.
When I was a child, my mother used to indulge in a champagne while playing vintage movie songs. Waltzing around the dining table she’d sing along to the lyrics of Gigi:
The night they invented champagne
It’s plain as it can be
They thought of you and me …
Unfortunately nobody has definitively been able to establish who invented champagne – but the French monk Dom Perignon is thought to have invented champagne in 1697.
Personally I love the romance of Dom Perignon yelling, ‘Come quickly, I am tasting the stars!’
However, some British historians reckon in 1662 a scientist, Christopher Merrett, documented how to make sparkling wine.
As a child, it seemed to me that becoming an adult must be a marvellous thing, because it would involve a lot of champagne and much hilarity. So by the time I could legally drink, I’d already developed a predisposition to fine champagne.
At university most of my friends didn’t have the loot for French imported champagnes such as Perrier-Jouët or Veuve Clicquot, so we made do with Australian sparkling wines. Many were first-rate but others were dodgy and tasted suspiciously of aerated fruit syrups. But when I found vacation work as a nightclub cocktail girl, I diligently applied myself to learning all about French champagne and premium cocktails
I was in heaven when I was promoted to creating the cocktails and popping champagne corks, instead of working the floor armed only with a flimsy tray, fending off the attentions of inebriated males.
Working alongside the barmen and having a metre width of polished oak between me and the clientele changed the game. Under the dim lights and the glittering backlit liqueur bottles, with a silver cocktail shaker firmly in hand, I felt like I’d finally attained adulthood. Whoa, did I get that wrong!
I loved the après work perks at the nightclub. In the midnight hours we’d sit around the empty club talking, laughing and having a cocktail or three.
Champagne cocktails were in vogue and I quickly realised that late at night champagne could effortlessly morph into becoming a truth serum. It got me into a hell of a lot of trouble but so much fun. Oh la la.
Winston Churchill was an absolute fiend for champagne and Oscar Wilde frequently referenced the joys of imbibing champagne. As he wrote, ‘Only the unimaginative can fail to find a reason for drinking Champagne.’
However the actor, composer, lyricist and champagne aficionado Noel Coward should really have the last word –
‘Why do I drink champagne for breakfast? Doesn’t everyone?’
The post Champagne Wishes and Caviar Dreams appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
October 30, 2024
The Perils of Romance
Some time ago I went to hear Alain de Botton – philosopher and author speaking about modern relationships and love in Melbourne’s gloomy town hall.
I’m not sure our drafty town hall is conducive to love. The couple in front of us were engaging in covert hostilities. De Botton is a witty, engaging communicator, but every time he made comedic asides about marriage the woman laughed like a drain and the bloke became even more incensed.
He sat stony faced with arms crossed while his partner shrieked with merriment. She kept it up even when the rest of the audience had stopped laughing. Had they had an argument on the way to the venue?
De Botton’s first question to the audience was – raise your hands if you are married and reasonably happy. Very few hands went up and the audience sniggered.
According to de Botton the problems with contemporary love originated with the 1850’s Romantic movement. He marked it as the point where romantic ideals replaced a more pragmatic approach to love.
The Romantics popularized the idea every one of us has a soulmate waiting in the wings for us. And when we find our soulmate, our loneliness is over because we move into in a coupled world. Another romantic ideal is that real love is instant, euphoric and will last until death do us part.
De Botton maintains that the romantic concept of love changes how we view sex. Sex becomes the consecrating moment of love. And this means that when adultery occurs, it takes on the proportions of a real catastrophe.
In the 1850’s there was the rise of fictional lovers such as Madame Bovary. And like Bovary we think life has gone horribly wrong if we can’t find our soulmate and attain the romantic ideal. Subsequently our love lives have become more difficult. It doesn’t occur to us that the premises we operate on are unrealistic and largely unattainable.
De Botton also pointed out that we are shaped by our childhood experiences of love, especially by what went down in our family and how we first experienced love. We tend to seek out the same type of love we are familiar with. In effect what we are doing is choosing our pain.
Given what he said about sex being the consecrating moment of love, there might be mass confusion going down. I’m thinking that in the present era of quaintly named online dating sites, sex might only be only one or two swipes away but love appears to be somewhat thin on the ground.
Apparently there’s been a recent decline in dating apps over the past few months with many date seekers giving up on apps entirely or using them less. Match Group, the parent company of apps including Hinge and Tinder, experienced a major stock plummet last year.
Other dating apps have also lost their market hold – with women especially – complaining to the press that paid subscriptions have become significantly more expensive. And the free versions of apps just don’t deliver the high numbers of match-ups that they used to.
There’s been numerous articles published recently on how couples actually met. It seems being introduced by friends or acquaintances is pretty common as is simply going to the pub or signing up for a face-to-face meeting group in a café/pub/restaurant. In short many folk seem more interested in going about romance the old school way.
Meantime doomsaying journalists dwell on the worldwide decline of birth rates. Some predict that the human race is no longer interested in partnering up and procreating. It’s often stated that raising children is a major expense and we live in uncertain economic times, dodgy politicians, climate change, fear of the future, famines and brutal ongoing wars. The list goes on and none of it is good.
Augusten Burroughs doesn’t believe in romantic ideals. In his book This Is How he writes, I don’t believe in the concept of a soul mate. Because we are all unique, but we’re also simply too similar. Burroughs reckons we need to get right out of our immediate environment, change our daily routines and go someplace else. This would raise the possibility of meeting someone new. As Burroughs puts it, I believe destiny and chance are the oldest poker buddies in town.
Not much has changed. In History of My Life – written over two centuries ago – Casanova wrote,
What is love? … It is a kind of madness over which philosophy has no power; a sickness to which man is prone at every time of life and which is incurable if it strikes in old age … Bitterness than which nothing is sweeter, sweetness than which nothing is more bitter! Divine monster which can only be defined by paradoxes!’
The post The Perils of Romance appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
September 28, 2024
The Queen of Crime
‘Poetry is not the most important thing in life … I’d much rather lie in a hot bath reading Agatha Christie and sucking sweets.’
Welsh poet Dylan Thomas author of Under Milk Wood (1954). It was described by Thomas as ‘prose with blood pressure’.
Agatha Christie was a prolific writer. She sold two billion copies of her books and is in the Guinness Book of World Records as the all-time bestselling novelist. One of Christie’s novels And Then There Were None is one of the world’s bestselling books.
Christie also wrote plays, Miss Marple novels, Hercule Poirot mysteries, memoirs, children’s stories and six stories published under the pen name of Mary Westmacott. Her play, The Mousetrap, is the longest running stage production from 1952 to 2020 and it restarted after Covid in 2022.
Agatha Christie’s novels are currently being heavily referenced by authors who mimic her style and present the work as ‘an Agatha Christie novel’.
Jane Austen attracts a similar level of interest from writers and Austen’s writing style and characters have been appropriated and rewritten in various genres. Some of these rewrites are a continuation of where her novels finished, while others diverge into what could best be described as mash-ups of contemporary writing styles.
So for example Jane Austen’s character Mr Darcy recently revealed his dark secret – he’s a vampire. Meantime in other recently published novels Austen’s well known characters appear in different guises while retaining the same or similar names.
Some contemporary authors retell Austen’s plots updated to modern times while other authors stick with the Regency era, say around 1811 -1820. Rom coms have been written appropriating Austen’s most popular characters experiencing different lives and loves. And so it goes.
There have been many adaptations of Agatha Christie’s work. I’ve just read Closed Casket – billed as ‘The Brand New Hercule Poirot mystery’. It features the world famous Detective Hercule Poirot, his friend Police Inspector Edward Catchpool and a country estate chockers with rich folk who despise each other. It’s another version of the Hollywood trope of rich people behaving badly. Any one of them could be fingered as the killer.
As with Jane Austen’s books, many films and TV series have also been made of Christie’s novels. Kenneth Branagh’s, Murder on the Orient Express is one of the most successful. Branagh understood Christie’s novel was more than just entertainment. He not only directed the film but he played Hercule Poirot with a extravagant moustache. It was so long that Poirot sleeps on the Orient Express wearing something around his face that resembles a bizarre face net.
When directing the film Branagh retained Christie’s whodunnit recipe, while enriching the character of Poirot and drawing attention to what it meant to be wealthy and privileged in the 1930’s. The fact that luxurious trains such as the Orient Express even existed, is testimony to the power of the elite who could afford to travel in such splendid style.
In an interview Branagh stated, ‘There is a passionate depth to Christie, even though she sometimes said her writing is merely entertainment … There’s quite a moral brood in Murder on the Orient Express as well.’
When I saw Kenneth Branagh’s, Murder on the Orient Express film I didn’t realize that I was attending a ‘Babes in Arms’ movie session. It finally dawned on me – when I stumbled over a whole bunch of prams parked inside the door and wedged down the aisles – that I should have read the fine print.
My first impression was that all would be well. The newborns were quiet and happy in their mother’s arms, sucking down bottles or slyly observing their neighbours from the security of their parked vehicles.
But all hell broke loose when an avalanche swept down the mountain. Shot on old school 65mm film, we were treated to panoramic views of the brutal winter landscape. When the train derailed, the volume increased significantly.
The sound effects were suitably dramatic and there were loud screeching, crashing and grinding noises. The Orient Express passengers got terribly excited and lost their cool. And the babies in the cinema became very, very alert.
One babe started mewing plaintively and soon they were all crying. More dramatic mood music ensured the crying escalated into wailing – it’s a marvellous thundering score – and the gloomy, high contrast jump cuts of the derailed train threw strange shadows around the cinema.
When the Orient Express passengers started rushing about all over the goddamn screen, the mothers picked up their babies and tried to soothe them.
This meant that by the end of the movie, several mothers – and one father – were standing at the back of the cinema, rocking their offspring while keeping their eyes fixed on the screen.
But here’s the thing. Despite the crying babies and the general mayhem, I was transported by the movie. Branagh’s film pays homage to Agatha Christie’s style of mystery. Her tale Murder on the Orient Express is engaging and entertaining and it translates really well to film.
Image above: A Holiday for Murder by Agatha Christie was originally published in 1938 under the title Hercule Poirot’s Christmas.
The novel was re-titled to Murder for Christmas when it was released in the United States in 1939.
The post The Queen of Crime appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
August 31, 2024
Spring is sprung
Spring is sprung, the grass is riz
I wonder where the birdies is.
They say the birdies on the wing, but that’s absurd.
I always thought the wing was on the bird.
attributed to Anonymous/Ogden Nash/ obscure 19th Century poets.
This year Spring on the island has been preceded by nearly a week of wild weather and aggressive, damaging winds. Severe weather warnings have been posted with damaging winds clocking in at over 100km/h, with a nearby coastal town recording winds of 154km/h.
Massive trees crashed down and crushed cars, houses were damaged, roofs torn off, fences blew down and some folk were trapped when trees smashed their cars. Some train lines were shutdown and power outages left many people without electricity.
It’s been madness with abnormally high tides on the surf beaches and damaging surf conditions. Elevated sea levels are expected to continue until next week. And boats in harbours, estuaries and shallow coastal areas have been advised to return to shore.
Usually the advent of spring initiates a new wave of living. At the very first glimmer of sunshine Melbourne folk tear off their puffa jackets, scarves and beanies and recklessly bare their skin.
Most people in this neck of the woods like to believe that the first day of September means spring has arrived. And that the last few months of epic rainfall and chill factor is over. For despite all evidence to the contrary, we cling to our childlike belief that the arrival of spring means it’s time to get prepped for summer.
On Melbourne trams in early spring you will find optimistic girls in short shorts and thongs, shivering or covered in goose bumps. There will also be a few blokes baring their thighs and tattooed biceps while trying to stay hip. Difficult when hair and bushy beards are soggy from an unexpected downpour.
The tram may well be awash with rain streaming from wet umbrellas or the odd spilt café latte. You really have to watch where you plant your work bag on the tram’s floor as it gets kind of slippery in peak hour.
Once the tram doors slam shut,chilled passengers in summer clothes cheer right up because the heating is pumped up to maximum. The rest of us are sweating like piglets in our coats, trying to catch every blast of cold air from the opening and closing doors.
A bloke once commented to me on a city tram, ‘It’s so damned hot you could grow orchids on these fu*king trams’.
I recall a fine spring day, when a red-haired woman ran for the tram in Collins Street. She was in a bit of a flap as she fought her way past two male passengers who were diligently blocking the doorway. There’s usually at least one serial door blocker on every tram.
We lurched around the corner into Spring Street and I swayed into a businessman. He was very understanding even though I was standing on his toes. The tram driver was a madman who sped up as he approached a tram stop and then braked suddenly. The red-haired woman squeezed in next to me and managed to grab hold of a swinging strap.
The redhead kept losing control of her handbag, jacket and laptop. I helped her retrieve them. The tram was chockers. Kid’s pushers and senior’s Zimmer frames had created an obstacle course.
The woman fiendishly raked through her large handbag but relaxed when she found her iPhone. She beamed at me and cheerfully announced she was losing everything. Everything. And did I know where the tram was going? She thought she might be on the wrong tram. Going the wrong way. We got it sorted.
I idly wondered if she’d been indulging in a champagne luncheon at the posh hotel opposite but I’d got it all wrong. She leant in a bit closer and confided ever so quietly that she was losing her mind. I’m losing my mind! You have no idea, I’m like a madwoman. A madwoman!
Apparently, a few weeks earlier she’d met a charming man. She’d given up on men. But he was different. A special man. Kind, loyal, honest and generous. With a sense of humour.
She further revealed, I never thought it would happen at my age. In spring too! Just think, if I’d arrived three minutes late our paths would never have crossed. Never!
We laughed like drains at the audacity and randomness of fate, of life, of spring. Passengers glanced around seeking the source of mirth. There’s usually not much to laugh about on an overcrowded tram. Especially when the tram driver is a speed fiend and everybody’s flailing around trying to grab hold of the furniture.
The red-haired woman nearly missed her stop. Then she regrouped, lunged for the stop cord, dropped her bag, and sorted herself out – only to get stuck in the closing doors. But she managed to get off in time. In one piece with all her belongings.
As she made the curb, she turned to wave at me. I waved back and silently wished her well.
Photo: Venus and Primavera (Spring on the right) from: La Primavera (Spring), circa 1482 by Sandro Botticelli. From the collection of the Uffizi Gallery. There have been many interpretations but it is generally thought to be a mythological allegory about fertility and Spring. Some art historians believe they’ve found a disguised message in Primavera’s floral patterned gown.
Sandro Botticelli [Public Domain], via Wikipedia Commons.
The post Spring is sprung appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
July 23, 2024
Do soulmates even exist?
Do soulmates even exist?
‘Love activates the same brain areas as cocaine … being intensely in romantic love takes so much attention, it can be hard to keep your life going, let alone have other relationships.’
Professor Arthur Aron
Many folk secretly hope that hiding in the wings is their one and only soulmate. Romantics often spend their lives searching for this very special person and believing that once they find the one they will live happily ever after.
However, among the disbelievers is Doctor Robert Epstein. He took it further and asked himself – can I deliberately manufacture falling in love with a stranger?
Not being a shy, modest chap, Epstein wrote about it Psychology Today. The concept he proposes was that he and a complete stranger (female) would sign a contract in which they would commit to deliberately falling in love with each other. The faux couple’s progress would be assisted and monitored by ‘qualified’ counselors.
His concept was an immediate sensation. And more than one thousand women from all over the world, kindly offered to help the doctor out with his ‘Love Project’.
And the result? As Britain’s Evening Standard gleefully reported in April 2012:
Besieged by offers, the editor of Psychology Today magazine chose a South American beauty to make his soulmate. But despite signing a “love contract”, Dr Epstein will be spending Christmas alone after the object of his affections decided no amount of tuition could make her love him.
Judiciously Doctor Epstein then concluded there had been too much media intrusion to allow his romance to bloom. Given he’d actively sought publicity to launch his ‘Love Project’, I thought it was rather unfair to get narky about excessive exposure. But I guess spending Christmas alone isn’t conducive to one’s well being.
Let’s take a brief diversion into online dating. Attitudes to dating apps are also changing and shifting. After years of swiping on Bumble, Tinder, Hinge, Grindr, Plenty of Fish, Badoo, Zook etc people seeking ‘dates’ are giving up or reducing their interactions.
Fatigue and boredom with wiping, liking, being ghosted or receiving unwanted genitalia photos has softened the market and user numbers are in rapid decline.
Self-reporting app users estimate they’ve been spending about 90 minutes a day or longer seeking their ‘soul mate’ or as others app users put it more realistically – a ‘f**k buddy’. Other app users have reported that shifting from the free version of the apps to the somewhat pricier ‘platinum’ version means they’ll get more responses from the mostly male pool of available ‘dates’. Women in particular have been dropping off the apps at a greater rate. Leaving behind a pool of males to compete for the attention of fewer and fewer women.
As Brady Robards, Australian researcher and Associate Professor of Sociology put it,
‘Some might say the apps turn dating into a kind of marketplace; if one person doesn’t tick all your boxes then you just re-roll the dice, and you’ve got another date lined up … That commodification of intimacy can be a really big problem.’
Getting back to romanticism and soulmates. As many people discover, relationships fail for all sorts of strange reasons. Numerous psychologists believe the way we were raised affects who we choose to fall in love with and our ‘attachment style’. Apparently how we relate to our partners goes right back to the love – or lack of love – we received as children.
The late British Psychoanalyst John Bowlby once stated, ‘A good childhood is the bedrock of a happy life and a bad one just about dooms us to enduring misery.’
It has occurred to me and many other enquiring minds that maybe Bowlby overstated the issue. His theories seem to indicate that finding a soulmate or even someone we can tolerate could well be exceedingly difficult. Nothing new here, Emily Bronte wrote about the perils of finding a soulmate in her famous novel Wuthering Heights – back in the mid 1800’s.
On the other hand, Philosopher Alain de Botton suggests Romantic Love is an ideal that really should be abandoned. He believes the problems we have with finding a soulmate originated with the 1850’s Romantic movement and romantic ideals replaced a much more sensible, realisitc approach to love.
De Botton firmly believes the ideal of romantic love ensures our downfall.
What do you think?
Note: to see de Botton’s ideas about love and sex see REFLECTION: The Insanity of Love.
photo : Foggy Pier by Lesley Truffle
The post Do soulmates even exist? appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
June 22, 2024
Detouring with Tim Rogers
Detouring with Tim Rogers
‘When I decided to embark on writing, I got my seersucker suit dry-cleaned and bought a case of gin. And I thought, ‘OK – I’ve been given a job. But my first question is: what do I wear?’ I was a Tennessee Williams wannabe – crate of gin by the side of the desk for elevenses – before realising that sort of ‘write drunk edit sober’ Hemingway thing was rubbish.’
Tim Rogers on the writing process for his biography Detours.
Tim Rogers, the front man and singer/writer of You Am I, published his biography Detours in 2017. He’s known to be flamboyant in dress and manner, a witty raconteur and a poetic soul who can capture in prose the duality of life. For life according to Rogers is magnificent yet decidedly grim.
Rogers music, poetical lyrics, prose writing and performances have earned him respect in Australia and overseas. He possesses the ability to create meandering comedic riffs which nail contemporary life. You can be laughing out loud at something he’s written, while also experiencing the slow realization of deep sorrow.
Frequently Rogers finds himself being wrongly identified by the general public and confused with other actors, celebrities and musicians. Fortunately, he easily sees the comedic side of life. Writing about the time he was misidentified as rocker Rod Stewart, Rogers coolly states,
”I looked nothing like Rod Stewart. I looked much more like a masculine version of the actress Glen Close.’
Detours is a warts and all biography and he spares us nothing – including a bout of intense diarrhea and numerous inglorious moments. I won’t reveal any details as they’re best revealed in Roger’s own words. Rogers deep love of his teenage daughter is obvious, although he tries not to be overemotional. Back in 2017 his former partner and mother of his child live in America. And he’s gutted when he has to once again say goodbye to his only child.
Tim Rogers has overcome his intense fear of flying so he can go on touring and travelling. He reads prolifically and has developed a wonderful turn of phrase and arcane vocabulary which he uses to great effect.
Self effacing and ironic, his self-penned book spectacularly defines what it means to be intensely creative in the arts. Rogers performs in theatrical productions, presents for Australian TV and radio and also records and plays in numerous musical bands and ensembles.
At the time Detours was published he was involved romantically with a magnificent woman whose identity he protected by only referring to her as the Hurricane. His descriptions of meeting the Hurricane and his attempts to connect with her emotionally are lyrical, sad and frequently amusing. Their relationship was anything but comfortable or dull. The upheavals of international touring and extreme hangovers occurred frequently but they remained romantically involved.
Both Rogers and the Hurricane were heavy drinkers and prone to misunderstandings when outrageously drunk. Since then he has modified his lifestyle choices.
Recently in an interview in the AGE newspaper’s GOOD WEEKEND supplement Rogers and his current partner ballet dancer/choreographer, Alice Topp, discuss what holds them together.
As Rogers puts in the interview, ‘My default position is melancholy 93 percent of the time and Alice’s isn’t, and that grates … Living together, though, I can see her positivity isn’t relentless … I’ll always love Alice …’
I found Detours deeply moving primarily because Rogers is a wonderful, witty writer. His ability to balance the outrageous with the more prosaic elements of his life results in an easy read that succeeds in conveying complex ideas and universal truths.
It’s well worth spending time with Tim Rogers.
Image: cover Tim Rogers biography (2017) Detours
The post Detouring with Tim Rogers appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
May 27, 2024
My old neighbourhood
It’s always great sneaking back to my old neighbourhood. Fitzroy has become increasingly gentrified – old houses have been tizzied up and sold for exceedingly high prices. Subsequently most of the artists, writers, junkies, musicians, booze hounds, poets and reprobates I once knew have moved on.
Some of them moved to New South Wales, Byron Bay or Tasmania whilst others decided to live in the country regions. Leaving Fitzroy became the only option once rents skyrocketed and the old rental houses and gnarly old flats that had housed us all were gobbled up by property developers.
A guy I knew lived in a small townhouse directly opposite the old Fitzroy town hall. It had a magnificent clock which struck the hour loudly in the midnight hours. He was a Melbourne poet who’d acquired a reputation as a womanizer. Between the striking clock and a former lover – who was prone to either weeping on his doorstep or letting the neighbours know his shortcomings at 2.00 am – he didn’t get much sleep. The place is still standing but appears to have had a renovation.
The saddest part about seeing an inner-city neighbourhood going upmarket is the destruction of magnificent old buildings. Due to the way our Heritage Laws work, this often means they end up being victims of facadism.
The guts of many 19th and 20th buildings are ripped out and all that remains is the outer façade. Contemporary buildings are then blended with the original façade, but the building’s heart and soul are long gone. Leaving nothing behind except a few earthbound ghosts.
It can be spooky walking down a city street late at night and realising that hidden behind the façade of what was once a classic nineteenth century commercial building sprawls a massive supermarket. And that the top floor and roof has been ripped off to provide an open-air carpark where nefarious activities occur after hours.
But here’s the thing. There are still some pubs built in the 1800’s that have retained their original purpose, grace and style. How? Because their publicans flatly refuse to give into gambling machines or renovation jobs that would suck the life out of their pub. The toilets and kitchen are often re-plumbed but the pub still looks essentially the same as it always has.
My favourite pub was established in 1866 during Melbourne’s boom period. It’s chockers with old memorabilia: faded football photographs, old Fitzroy football jumpers suspended from the roof and 50’s to 80’s kitsch piled up on the wonky shelves.
The pub has been the same way for decades. And even though it’s been repainted a few times everything has been carefully put back as it was. I suspect the old footy jumpers have been washed as they look decidedly brighter. And tucked under the bar – where the wooden bar stools are all lined up – are little bronze hanging hooks for your bags and jackets.
I love all the old dark wood in the joint and the wooden tables and stools. The flooring creaks and sighs when you walk across the bare boards in your cowboy boots. And when the beer keg runs out, one of the bar tables has to be moved, so the barman can lift the trap door and go down to the worn cellar steps to change the kegs over.
Leadlight windows tinge the fading sunlight and the façade is unchanged. There’s a small tower over the corner of the building, decorated with a unique rose motif. Inside the pub the lighting is warm and low and it’s especially cosy in winter when the open fires are lit. But in summer the aircon operates at full bore and it’s a great place to retreat to après beach. You can sit in the front bar sipping an icy cold vodka sodas and listen to the Town Hall clock chime the hours.
What’s more, you always know what the hell you are eating. The chicken parma doesn’t need to come with a chef’s statement. The food is comprised of lovely fresh produce cooked simply and it’s utterly delicious. The pub’s menu caters to punters who are familiar with culinary diversity.
Sunday roasts are listed on the blackboard menu next to vegan burgers and everyone is happy. The menu changes regularly but retains some old school bar favourites alongside more contemporary innovative cuisine.
Long live old school pubs!
photo collage: Fitzroy Town Hall by Lesley Truffle
The post My old neighbourhood appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
April 20, 2024
All the world’s a stage
All the world’s a stage
‘ Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.’
Will Shakespeare ‘Macbeth’
A connection exists between Law Courts and the stage. University Law revues are frequently the beginnings of a career on the stage. A disproportionate number of comedians and actors started out as novice lawyers before turning to comedy and acting.
A theatrical production took place earlier this month in Tasmania at The Tasmanian Civil and Administrative Tribunal. A man was suing privately owned MONA (Museum of Old and New Art) for denying him access to a women’s only installation titled ‘The Ladies Lounge’.
Apparently, Jason Lau was put out because he felt his rights were being violated. He represented himself and claimed MONA’s Ladies Lounge art installation violated Tasmania’s Anti-Discrimination Act. He claimed gender discrimination.
Having paid AU$35.00 for his entry to MONA he expected a ‘fair provision of goods and services.’ But in actual fact, it costs AU$500 for two women to attend the Ladies Lounge Tickets for its High Tea for Two.
Male butlers provide a lavish spread along with suitable adult beverages and the ladies get to spend time with some Picasso paintings and lovely antiquities collected from around the world. On the MONA website it states – ‘Any and all ladies are welcome’.
The curator of MONA, Kirsha Kaechele pointed out to the presiding judge that women in Australia only won the right to drink in public bars with men until 1965. Until then they could only sit in what was quaintly known as a Ladies Lounge and were charged more than the male patrons who drank in the males only bars on the same premises.
Kaechele emphasized she was inspired by the inequities of the former Ladies Lounges and her own experience as a woman in Australian society. She stated quite clearly that at MONA all women – including those who identified as a woman – were welcome to gather in the installation space.
Kaechele stated in court ‘I have taken something that was used to keep women down and repurposed it into a triumphant space for woman that excludes men. It addresses historical inequities …’
For those who aren’t familiar with Hobart’s MONA, it was established by the Australian professional gambler, art collector and businessman David Walsh. Walsh is the owner of MONA and the Moorilla Estate in Tasmania and is currently married to Kirsha Kaechele.
I greatly enjoyed Walsh’s 2014 autobiography, A Bone of Fact and got the impression he’s a maverick with a wicked sense of humour. He also possesses an engaging intellect and effortlessly explains complex mathematical concepts pertaining to gambling.
Walsh studied Mathematics and Computer Science and developed a system for betting on racehorses and other sports events. Early in his career he worked briefly for the Australian Tax Office.
Walsh reckons he spent most of his time shirking work, taking extended sick leave and gluing ashtrays to the ceiling of a shared office. At one point the ATO sent a staffer to his house to ask him to return to work. I got the impression they probably missed the light, colour and movement he bought to the office.
When I visited MONA a few years ago, I arrived by ferry and climbed the lengthy staircase up to the entrance. I really loved the architectural design and the way it had been carved into the landscape but I found the art collection lacking. There were only a few outstanding pieces in the collection along with a couple that were astonishingly beautiful. This included an indoor waterfall which included projected lines of poetry.
I wondered if the collection was somewhat lackluster because when Walsh established his gallery he only ever purchased art he personally found controversial, witty or interesting. Thus sex and death featured prominently. However, no doubt things have changed as he now employs curators to expand his collections. I’m looking forward to going back and seeing the newer pieces.
Getting back to the Hobart court case. It became a newsworthy sensation because MONA’s curator, Kirsha Kaechele framed it as a performance piece. She led a group of over 20 women into the court. They were all sleekly attired in dark business suits with pencil skirts, bold red lipstick and strands of pearls.
With them was a man wearing a stunning electric blue skirt suit. In court the ‘ladies’ performed silently, showcasing their painted fingernails, toying with their pearls, crossing and uncrossing their legs and adjusting the no-nonsense spectacles they all wore.
Kaechele also led her ladies in a synchronized dance outside the courthouse to the tune of Robert Palmer’s, Simply Irresistible.
‘ … She’s a craze you’d endorse, she’s a powerful force
You’re obliged to conform when there’s no other course
She used to look good to me, but now I find her
Simply irresistible …’
I wish I’d been there for unlike most court cases – which are frequently tedious and terribly dull – it sounded enjoyable and comedic.
Unfortunately the judge ruled that MONA must stop turning men away from its women-only Ladies Lounge installation. However, it’s not yet over and Kaechele stated she’s prepared to take her case to a higher court. She also made clear it clear she’d rather close the installation down than let men in.
In conclusion as Nathan Feld commented in The Age newspaper letters section,
‘The world is coming apart at the seams … Let’s tie up the courts on the big issues facing all of us and let art remain in the realm of mystery and intrigue. It’s art Jason, accept it for what it is.’
Photo: The Curator of MONA, Kirsha Kaechele (far left) accompanied by her lawyer, Catherine Scott leading her ‘ladies’ into court .
The post All the world’s a stage appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
March 28, 2024
Poor Things
‘She (Bella Baxter) thinks that all aspects of life are fascinating because she is in love with being alive. I find that very inspiring. I wish I could live like that more often. Whether she is going through an incredible experience or a really difficult one, she gives an equal weight to them and finds an interest in them because that’s life ...’
Emma Stone on her character Bella Baxter in Poor Things.
Emma Stone, Willem Dafoe and Mark Ruffalo are terrific in director Yorgos Lanthimos Poor Things. Stone plays Bella Baxter as a developing child in an adult woman’s body. I won’t reveal how that came about as it would be a spoiler.
The film is an adaption of Alasdair Gray’s fiction book, Poor Things. Gray’s novel – a fusion of historical fiction and horror fiction – is a revision of Mary Shelley’s horror story Frankenstein published in 1818.
Ruffalo succeeds as the womanizer and exceptionally attractive cad, Duncan Wedderburn. His charm, oiliness and eventual downfall are comedic and Ruffalo plays the villain as a self indulgent bounder.
Dafoe is sinister, god-like and vulnerable all at once – not an easy role to play. But Dafoe pulls it off and is utterly convincing as Dr Godwin Baxter, an obsessed scientist who teeters on the edge of madness. Ramy Youssef plays Max McCandles, Godwin’s earnest assistant and Bella’s first love interest.
It’s never made clear what year the film is set in. The costuming and film sets are fabulous and mostly fantasy based. Lisbon is entrancing and other worldly. However, Bella’s story begins in what appears to be Victorian England before morphing into Steampunk territory.
I loved Bella’s flamboyant gowns, swirling fish tails, translucent coats and heavily padded shoulders and draped suits. While Wedderburn, McCandles and Dr Baxter are suited and booted in Victorian gent’s style suits, Bella gets to misbehave in mini skirts, sheer blouses, voluptuous evening gowns and white ankle booties.
The early scenes concerning Bella’s origins are primarily shot in black and white before morphing into brilliant technicolour. The music that accompanies the film is often tempestuous and discordant and it changes according to the mood of the main actors.
I particularly loved the sheer exuberance and wickedness of the script. One film reviewer called it ‘filthy’ in an approving way. Conservative viewers might find the brothel scenes outrageously immoral and offensive. However, the seedy brothel clients contribute to our understanding of Bella’s desire for new experiences and also add a comedic element to the proceedings.
I’m squeamish about violence. I admit I had my eyes tightly closed during some of the brothel scenes – not because they were sexually explicit – but because I feared things would turn ugly for Bella. But it didn’t happen.
Driven by intense curiosity to see and experience everything life has to offer, Bella remains unharmed on her wild adventures in Portugal. It seems innocence really does protect itself. She then sets sail to Alexandria, Egypt, and Paris and back to London.
As Bella Baxter evolves into a lucid, intelligent and street-smart young woman she dumps Victorian conventions and faces her obstacles to happiness fearlessly.
She also develops a scientific mindset and applies Godwin Baxter’s scientific analysis to her strange experiences. Bella’s ability to rationalize her strange behaviour drives Duncan Wedderburn up the wall. His meltdown and comeuppance is comedic and most satisfying.
In closing, I can’t but think the world would be a much better place if more of us possessed Bella Baxter’s untamed passion and joy of living.
photo: Emma Stone as Bella Baxter in the Georgios Lanthimos film, Poor Things (2023).
The post Poor Things appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
March 4, 2024
Iris Apfel
Iris Apfel
‘I’m not pretty and I’ll never be pretty, but it doesn’t matter. I have something much better, I have style.’
Iris Apfel 1921-1924
Iris Apfel, interior designer, model and fashionista has died at the age of 102. Her life was lived magnificently.
Iris and her husband Carl Apfel owned and operated Old World Weavers and their booming busines was all about interiors and restoration. They specialized in replicas of exotic antique fabrics and the Apfel clients included Greta Garbo, Jackie Kennedy and several American presidents.
In her later years Iris expanded into designing costume jewellery, fashion items, shoes, make-up and spectacles. She also modelled for Vogue and other publications.
Her Russian-born mother owned her own fashion boutique in New York and while still very young Iris learnt how to spot a bargain the Queens flea markets. She was ahead of Hollywood stars such as Brando and Monroe who donned working man’s blue jeans and made them a fashion icon.
‘In the ’40s I was probably the first woman to wear jeans. All of a sudden I had a vision. I said ‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I had… this sounds crazy, but a big gingham turban and very large hoop earrings I could wear with a nice crisp shirt and a pair of jeans.’
Iris effortlessly mixed and matched couture fashion with inexpensive fashion finds from her travels. These included armfuls of bold bangles, weird and wonderful items from flea markets and opulent church vestments. Her control and manipulation of colour, texture and shape was highly original and stunningly beautiful.
At 96 years of age Iris had a Barbie doll made in her image and gleefully noted her greatest fans were six years old. In 2022 as she turned 100 she designed a fabulous women’s fashion collection for H&M and it sold out immediately.
In the photo (above) Iris models items for the H&M collection. It included brightly coloured women’s fashion and costume jewellery featuring green frogs with elegant shoes to match.
Iris became a superstar at 83 and was wickedly outspoken. She ruffled quite a few feathers making pointed comments about the sloppiness of gym clothes when worn outside the gym and the tasteless way folk dressed with zero regard to their body type.
Leisure wear was not her thing and she refused to wear it. At home she luxuriated in a fine robe. She was also scathing about what people did to try and maintain the illusion of youth.
‘If you’re 75, nobody’s going to think you’re 32. People who lie about their age are dopey. And getting carved up and trying to make your face look years younger is so stupid. Your hands are a dead giveaway.’
‘If you’re not interested, you’re not interesting’ was one of her strongly held beliefs.
Nobody ever had the audacity to cancel Iris Apfel – and if they had she would probably have found it hilarious. For Iris specialized in breaking the rules. With her large plastic framed glasses, chic bouffant silver hair, blood red lipstick and over the top outfits – complete with lashings of feathers and frills – there was nobody who could match her.
As designer Dries Van Noten put it, ‘I have rarely met someone as vivid, alive, vital, vivacious, irreverent, joyous and needed as Iris. She breathes young air, thinks young thoughts and gathers no dust.’
Iris adored the idea of ‘aging disgracefully’. Iris possessed wit, high intelligence, flaming creativity a roaring sense of humour.
In her own words she was, the world’s oldest living teenager.
Rest in peace Iris.
image: Iris Apfel modelling items from her highly successful H&M fashion collection.
The post Iris Apfel appeared first on Lesley Truffle - Writer.
