Sunday, July 31, 2011

Pennyfarthing Espresso



206 High Street
Northcote 3070
Victoria Australia
Telephone: (03) 9482 2246


When my husband asks me to look up the address of “Penny Farthing” I let out a little groan. Being the cycling enthusiast he is, I am sure we are bound for some bike shop. Not what I really had in mind for such a gloriously sunny Melbourne Sunday. Particularly since I really did do my time in more than one bike shop yesterday! But alas, upon hearing my groan he quickly adds: “it’s not a bike shop, it’s a cafe!” Why didn’t you say so! I think to myself as I proceed to tap the letters into Google on my iPhone.

When I see the website, I remember this café having a little air time on Coxy’s Big Break some time ago. Two brothers with a passion for coffee. I remember watching it thinking that Coxy didn’t really seem to be a coffee person (whatever that is). But, in true Coxy style (with a big smile, moustache and plenty of enthusiasm), he was “giving it a go”.

We are greeted at the door with a smile and encouraged to keep moving through the busy front section of the café to the back, where we would find a vacant table. We prop ourselves up onto one of the bench height communal tables and order a couple of coffees.

The first page of the flip-chart menu is all about coffee. The following pages contain options for all-day breakfast, lunch and dinner. A blackboard to our left displays the specials. A blackboard behind me lists beers and wines.
We order from the specials board. One “pork belly sandwich with fresh mint, tomato, cos lettuce and house made aioli” ($13) and one “garlic and thyme roasted mushrooms with ricotta & sautéed radicchio on toast, finished with balsamic reduction” ($15).

The coffee arrives complete with coffee art. It is strong, but smooth. I get to finish my coffee before the food arrives. Not sure if it was deliberate, but I am happy about it nonetheless.

The food is delicious. The garlic and thyme perfectly compliment the three large, fleshy upside-down mushrooms. A blob of ricotta sits in the centre of each. Under the mushrooms is a layer of onion and radicchio. No sourness in it at all. A thick piece of chewy-crust sourdough cradles all the components. The balsamic reduction is perfectly sweet.

The three pork belly strips are tasty with that perfect crunch. The lettuce is neatly sliced to form wiggly strips, and the aioli is creamy. Once again, the chewy-crust sourdough is underneath it all. It’s not really a “sandwich”, but any more bread on this plate would be a shame. The tomato is probably not critical in this dish, but doesn’t cause any harm.

The vibe of this place is “High street cool”. Bob Dylan sings to you through the sound system. People are here in groups, pairs or on their own (in a very cool way).

This is one of those places where you could come to: quickly grab your daily cup; sit and read; write your novel or a Uni assignment; or chat for hours with a group of friends. The garden out the back is the perfect place for a beer in the sun. Pennyfarthing gave us good service, great coffee and a delicious, fresh & flavoursome lunch.


Saturday, July 23, 2011

Chew Chew


For breakfast, brunch, lunch, or a coffee
0408 470 114

7-11 Norwood Crescent
 Moonee Ponds, 3039




This new breakfast and lunch venue is potentially my new local favourite. I have been watching the venue reincarnate over the past few weeks. What was once a forgettable site is now a triple-fronted rustic haven.

A little Alice in Wonderland, you need to make sure you choose the correct door. There are at least three, but only one will open…

The interior has been done beautifully. Rustic. Exposed brickwork. A long communal table near the entrance offers you a neatly arranged selection of the daily papers. There is a warmer furnished section to the left and to the right, a much brighter, whiter section. But if you don’t want to sit at a table, why not perch on a stool in the window and watch the trains and passengers come and go? What mood are you in?
We choose to sit on the church pew in the warmer, darker section. Above our heads is a shelf of bonsai plants. An interwoven antler-horn chandelier lights the room.

The Gaggia coffee machine is bright green. A standout bench item. I love the way this place is fitted out. Having been recently renovating, I think I know where most of the items have been purchased. Perhaps I am biased because it is consistent with my own home-style? Anyway, I love it (give or take the green machine).

The menu offers a more than decent selection of options. Breakfast is “served all day”. The Panini range is exciting. A selection of sweet treats tempts you from the cabinet next to the green machine. Typically I am a sweet tooth, but today I order the Roast Beef Panini ($10.50).My Company orders the Sausage Panini ($10.50), with broccoli and parmesan. He orders a Chinotto ($3.90), I order a Chai latte ($4). Sorry, not yet able to comment on the coffee!

My Panini is delicious: roast beef; caramelised onions; cheese; horseradish; and baby cos. The onions give just-right sweetness and, despite being toasted, there is a good crunch in the lettuce. My Company’s Panini is very salty, but I think that is to be expected when Italian sausage meets parmesan. If you don’t like salt, steer clear of this option!

The service is cheerful and things are “going really well so far” according to the waitress (I didn’t expect any other answer did I?). There were a number of tables occupied though, so I suppose, like me, all my fellow train travellers have been curiously aware of this place over the past few weeks and are popping by to suss it out. You can’t miss it coming off the train at Moonee Ponds station.

The total bill was $27. Cash only (always a bit of a bugger). So, not cheap, but we were not at all disappointed and will be returning soon. If for nothing else, to sample the coffee!




Monday, June 27, 2011

There’s something different about the Epping line.



The train journey into the city tends to be unreliable at the moment. Unreliable, unpleasantly crowded, uncomfortable. But this morning was different.  This morning I travel to work on the Epping line. Different to usual. I have just dropped my gorgeous little ball of fluff (actually he is not that little anymore) at “Dogs HQ” and now I wait at Collingwood station.

Collingwood station platform is elevated and exposed. There is a small canteen-like building with a roller door shut tight. I wait on the platform. My cheeks start to chill.  I am not sure how long I will wait for. There is no timetable printed.  I press the green button. But before the informative lady can tell me when the next train will be, the chimes of a pending announcement tell me a train is approaching “on platform one”.

I step into the crowded carriage. I stand facing the door. It feels less crowded that way. And the fresh air gets to you at each stop. I overhear a young guy with a beanie telling his friend about why he was “laughing at 4am”. “It was because I remembered something from Saturday night when Sam was arguing with me about whose underwear he was wearing” he recalls. The Beanie’s friend forces a morning giggle.

I watch the green outside blur into the grey. The sky is blue today. I wish it was warmer.
We stop and start in the usual way. People get on, get off.  As we move in and out of the dark tunnels I start to think about the work that awaits me.

The train driver’s voice breaks through the reluctance of Monday morning.
“Hi everyone. Just wanted to let you know we have a few red signals ahead so we might be a little slow moving into Flinders Street.”
Oh, what a surprise! Delayed!
“You know”, he continues “I have been thinking a lot about something and I thought I might as well share it with all of you this morning. See what you think!”.
Well, I never!
“This guy’s a nutcase!” says the Beanie to his friend.
“See, I was in Central Australia recently on holidays. Not sure if you have been there, but it is pretty hot. Lots of flies.”
What on earth! I start to listen. As does everyone without white i-pod wires in ears.
“You might have noticed that the flies hover around your head and just follow you wherever you go. You walk around with a cloud of flies around your head!”
I think of the warmth of Central Australia. I identify with the annoying flies.
“And when you stop to speak to someone, they have their cloud of flies with them. You start to chat and your flies all mix up!”
Its fabulous! I have a smile on my face. On a Monday morning!
“And then, when you are finished talking to your mate, you both walk off and you have your cloud of flies with you again.”

I wonder about this cheerful driver. I try to imagine what he looks like. Perched up there at the front of the train. Is he skinny? Does he have a smile on his story-telling face? Or is he serious and inquisitive?
“Well, what I want to know, is whether the cloud of flies you each walk away with after your chat are the same flies you started with before you stopped to chat or whether you have walked away with some of each other’s!”
It is a simplistic but interesting question. I must admit. I almost resume my work ahead thinking.
“And I’ve decided.” He continues, “next time I go up there I am going to wait until dusk when the flies all calm down by the water and I am going to put a little spot of white paint on each of them so I can tell for sure!”

I giggle into the window. I glance around the carriage. I have never seen so many smiles on a Monday morning train.  We arrive at Flinders street. The crowd begins to shuffle and move.
The train trip to work was different this morning. The driver made me smile.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Hats – An Anthology by Stephen Jones at Queensland Art Gallery, Brisbane


“The exhibition itself is free” I was told as I sat, upright and rigid, in my space on the plane to Brisbane. My expectations upon hearing this were suddenly lowered. A free exhibition, I thought, would give us a handful of Stephen Jones’ pieces and an overpriced souvenir shop. This trip could turn into a small disaster, I thought, as I imagined the most disappointed face I could on my mother’s face...

Well, I am delighted to say that I was wrong... very wrong. There would be far more than a few hats on display, and the expression on my mother’s face would be one of awe, longing and inspiration. Just across the river, along the aptly named “Southbank”, rests the Brisbane Art Museum. I wouldn’t say it is the most externally aesthetically pleasing piece of architecture, but who cares when all that matters is what it holds within! This gallery seems to be like most galleries. Open spaces, lots of glass cabinets, and multiple paintings on white walls. I scan the large rooms for a sign of Stephen Jones. “Down the stairs and to your right”, we are told by a short by happy-to-be-there lady of the Museum. And, suddenly, this Gallery becomes different to most. There is a separate area. An area created just for Stephen Jones to present what he refers to as his “very personal anthology of hats, a mish-mash of dates, places, stories and illusion...”. The dedicated Stephen Jones space is a cave within the Gallery, with four separate, but very connected, chambers. The cave is complete with an arched-window-shaped entrance. Inside is darker than outside, and as you take your first art-gallery-pace steps into the first chamber, you are suddenly disconnected from the outside world. Time doesn’t matter anymore. Only headwear, creativity and artistry. A large glass cabinet lines the left-hand side wall of the first chamber. I immediately recognise Stephen’s Union Jack top hat. Some of you will have seen this in the window of Le Louvre in Collins Street Melbourne last year, others of you will know it from the cover of Hats: An Anthology by Stephen Jones (V&A 2009) and some of you will know that it was worn by Anna Piaggi, Italian fashion writer, and regular wearer of a Stephen Jones hat.

The cabinet’s contents are not all Stephen’s creations. He will not tell this story alone. The creations are deliberately not categorised in time zones or styles, but tend to be grouped for likeness. There is a cluster of geometric shapes, one of helmets, hoods, and bonnets. Think of a riding helmet that Cadel Evans might wear resting just a few hats up from Stephen Jones’ Thunderbird, a lollipop-stick creation made for Galliano in 1996, and then, just a few along from that, an every-day rain hood. Each hat rests on a clear mannequin head. You barely notice the heads, which creates an illusion that these artworks are, in fact, floating. The second chamber showcases millinery materials and the different ways one might, and one actually has, decided to use them: straw; wool; felt; flowers; paper; plastic; embellishment; feathers. In this chamber you will find Stephen Jones’ well-known paint palette hat. Created for Dior and used as the exhibition’s signature image, it holds centre position in the “embellishment” cabinet. But, in my view, it by no means dominates. Each cabinet holds a balanced selection of examples of the material in form. From the “plastic” cabinet the highlight for me was Stephen’s “Wash and Go” hat; from the “wool” cabinet, Stephen Jones’ quirky cooked breakfast beret; from the “feather” cabinet, Philip Treacy’s pink goose feather hat (pictured); from the “shoe” cabinet, Stephen’s “pas de deax” (pictured); and from the “straw” cabinet, an exceptionally old, but beautifully kept, embroidered shallow crown hat from 1760-1769. This hat, in particular, causes quite an emotional reaction from my mother. She seems astonished, stunned, and simply taken a-back. She spends a little extra time with it, before moving to the next cabinet.

One of the most fascinating features of this second chamber is the re-created section of Stephen’s studio. It occupies the centre of the room. His radio plays softly next to an opened can of flavoured mineral water and the floor is peppered with his labels, buttons and other bits of fly- away. The walls are waterfalls of trims, braids, boxes, sketches and notes... To some, this small room-within-a-room looks just like you might imagine your average artist’s studio. To others, the ones who linger for that extra little while, are leaning inside, are partly transported but longing to be closer, the picketed barrier gates really do serve as a reminder that: you are an art exhibition; he is not in there; and no! you cannot just pop in for a closer look...

The third room is a room for the “famous” hats: Sarah Jessica-Parker’s green feather Phillip Treacy; a cap worn by Janet Jackson in one of her concerts; Kiera Knightley’s ostrich-feather-covered costume hat worn in the film The Duchess; Dita von Teese’s favourite toy hat with the miniature parrot on top; Camilla’s wedding headpiece by Phillip Treacy; Mick Jagger’s hat worn during the Rolling Stones’ A Bigger Bang world tour; and Kylie’s visor worn in her Showgirl tour, both by Stephen Jones.

At the centre of this chamber is a group of mannequins. They wear some of the catwalk pieces by Jones, et al. They wouldn’t make much sense on a floating head in a cabinet. They are large, obscure and very modern. One is certain inspiration for Lady GaGa’s recent Diet Coke can hair rollers. Another is the exceptionally bright pom-pom headwear created by Soren Bach and worn by Bjork in 2008.

In the final chamber is a fantastic area for children (and adults of course!) to create a personalised paper hat. A marvellous idea... in so many ways.

The final cabinet of hats is on the right hand side of the final chamber. It holds a modest collection of work by a selection of Australian milliners: Richard Nylon; Peter Jago; Neil Grigg; Alexandra Harper; Liza Stedman; and Sandy O’Rourke. This cabinet could have been bigger... much bigger... But, I suppose, it is fair to say that this is not an Australian millinery exhibition. Now, that is something that should be considered...

This exhibition is not intended to take you on a chronological or historical tour through time. It is not intended to show you everything that ever was, or is, to hats and millinery. The precise intention of this exhibition-in-a-cave is to show you Stephen Jones’ “viewpoint of where hats come from, how they were made, where they were sold and the extraordinary people who wore them.” And that is what it does. However, I think it does more than this. It evokes emotion, appreciation, wonder and inspiration. It is breathtaking and captivating. It makes your mind wander into the creative spirit of these headwear artists and causes you to take a moment to think and acknowledge the beauty of the hat. It makes you want to wear hats more often. And it makes you think about why we don’t. It makes you realise that a hat is a finishing touch to an outfit, an extension of the person, a statement and a face-frame.

Hats: An Anthology by Stephen Jones is well worth your time. Whether you are a milliner by trade, or you have a fascination with hats, if you are a fashion student, or have an interest in the history of fashion or you are simply passing through Brisbane, I urge you to stop by the not-so-pretty-from-the-outside Museum on Southbank, and let Mr Jones take you somewhere.

Exhibition showing in Brisbane only: 27 March – 27 June 2010www.qac.qld.gov.au/hats

Hats - An Anthology by Stephen Jones





Friday, November 20, 2009

Melbourne Spring Racing Carnival Wrap Up



Caulfield Guineas: Sunshine. Beautiful company, but disappointment on the fashion front (not us, them!). Tasty food options of sweet and savoury. Two food vouchers = one cute, white noodle box filled with crushed meringue, strawberries and cream and one cute, white noodle box filled with custard and chocolate profiteroles. Male company chose two savoury options. To be fair (but unfashionable) noodles and stir fry’s do belong in noodle boxes...
Moonee Valley Tatts Cox Plate: Sunshine! Ivory Thurley dress with Annie Clifforth creation on top, neutral colours today – a clear favourite in the fashion stakes. Plenty of floating food platters. Mini Magnums. Wonderful idea! Test running mushroom-nude Tony Bianco shoes. Great for about 4 hours. Not so great thereafter.
Derby Day: Hot Hot Hot!! So so so hot. Karen Millen black dress. Hugging. Not a wise choice. Early departure, largely due to outfit discomfort. Expected high probability of the presence of drunk, wobbly, lobsters roaming the city later in the day.
Cup Day: Quite pleasing weather really. Nursery is abuzz. Good food, great company. Winners picked. Karen Millen on my feet. Good to me until at least 4pm. Then, welcome flat shoes. A wise and envied move. Well done me! The last race. Today, even the train ride home is special. Leaving later is certainly the key. By then, the dust has settled and the majority of the young and tattered have all kindly removed themselves from the track. And all the way to Spencer Street, a small crowd at the back of the carriage project a joyful-happy-drunk-sung soundtrack of Beatles, Hunters & Collectors, Pearl Jam and other well known anthems. When people sing like that, all you can do is smile. And if you dare, you join in.
Oaks Day: A little bit windy but otherwise pleasant in the weather department. Grey and black Giovanna Scarfo dress today. Repeat Karen Millen shoes (Yes I know, fashion crime. But if you saw them you would understand.). Mother and daughter day for me. Mum is very chic in black with a touch of art deco in a brooch. Kerrie Stanley takes the Millinery Award. A pale pink and black combination wins the hearts of the judges in the fashion stakes (don’t they care about my aversion to this colour combination!?). Pale pink and black would drive off in her brand new red Lexus. Don’t worry, we caught a taxi. A really high-standard Melbourne one. Complete with terribly bad odour and a driver who has no idea where he is or where he is going. Splendid.
So I say “Goodbye for now” to Flemington. No doubt, the fascinators are being, or have been, boxed up or heavily marked down to make critical room for the Christmas decorations…

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Hatstravagance™ - an evening cocktail party of millinery and fashion

Flemington racecourse was abuzz last night as hundreds of women (and a sprinkle of men) poured into the Atrium to experience an evening of Hatsravagance - an evening cocktail party of millinery and fashion. The Millinery had a definite presence, but I was not convinced about the fashion presence… and certainly not convinced of any obvious cocktail party vibe.

Nonetheless, the millinery was (as the name suggests) the main objective of this evening. With some forty milliners exhibiting their creations. There was colour, feathers, flowers and frills as far as the eye could see (and in my case, I can't see very far so it is true and fair for me to say this type of thing).

It was a "SOLD OUT" event according to the marketing team, and I believe it. A sea of hat-enthusiasts wandered through the room. Looking, trying, touching, ooo-ing, ahhh-ing.

For me, first thing was first. Find my mother. Once again, in my life of running just a little late, I tottered with pace from my car to the entrance. I groaned a little (in my head) at the non-walking-up-the-escalator guests as they stole more of my time. I arrived at the top of the escalators. A handbag, a camera bag. My ticket? Yes, in my bag. A tray of drinks. No, not just now, I need to find someone… pronto! Ah, but there she was waiting with Hillary Nylon (sister of the admirable Richard Nylon). Mum, as often, was dressed in black, wearing a sweet, black velvet headpiece. Phew! I made it. I wander with mum through the excited crowd to each of the millinery stalls.

First stop is Annie Clifforth millinery. Purple, orange, red, and black and white delights rest elegantly on their stands. Waiting to be loved but enjoying the adoration. My favourite is a pale green rochello with little pink glass flowers and wispy ivory peacocks. Purple is extremely (but not at all surprisingly) popular. The two purple pieces will sell to adoring owners later that evening. One shopper will be disappointed that she missed out on the purple dish with black, but she will place an order while her friend purchases a show-stopper black rochello with patent white flowers - one from the parade… she hunted it down. It had to leave with her.

Other stand-outs were Louise MacDonald's array of knife-edge pleats and soft pinks, browns, black and white. Richard Nylon always brings something different to the table. This year, he brought a selection of headbands. I watched as he demonstrated how to wear them to a curious customer. "They are good because they give the impression of a turban-style, without all the bulk at the back of the head". The turban-style was declared, to a fashion watching crowd earlier this year, by Peter Jago to be "fashion". You have to have a certain face-shape and style to sport the turban. I don’t have, therefore I don’t wear.

Serena Lindeman's table was colourful and interesting. My favourite was a small head piece with an upside-down waterfall of bows and flowers - raffia wound around shaped wire.

Brett Morely, who was positioned next to Annie Clifforth, demonstrated a fascinating take on modern millinery. His pieces are lace structures. Angular, poised, dramatic. They sweep from one side to the other - asymmetrical. They were popular "to try" but it would take a very brave shopper to make the commitment to take one of these home and promise to wear it with absolute stature to the track. A tiara of lace that sits just on the hair line.

As guests were ushered to their seats, I noticed that I had not been smart enough to plan a "coat on the chair" reserve for myself. The good seats are all taken. I decide to grab my "box of food goodies" and stand up the back. I will get a great view from there. After all, that is where the photographers are. I have a large camera. That makes me a photographer. I open the box of goodies and assess its contents. I eat a 3-bite chicken sandwich. Peter Rowland's chicken sandwiches have always been a favourite of mine. But since when did they put bacon in them! What a shame. Two strawberries, bite-sized carrot cake, fritatta rectangles, mini salmon bagel. Cute. I wish I had a drink.

The evening commences with Mark Vincent singing Nessun Dorma. His powerful voice fills the room. Silences it.

Opera is quickly replaced with house music. Fashion parade music. The hats are modelled. They float (but at speed) atop of models' heads. Colour, shape, height, angles, sparkle, flowers, elegance, interest, one I love, one not-for-me. I click away attempting to capture the evening through a lens.

At the end of the parade, guests clap, Richard Nylon and Kim Fletcher speak, they remind me of a pair of Oscar-presenters… they draw from a silver bowl, the winners of prizes. The formalities are over. The guests are advised. They now have a decision to make...to shop or not to shop?
I decide to get a drink but am told that there "are no more glasses". This is more of a shame than the bacon in my sandwich. What does that mean - no more glasses? Is it common for catering companies to provide one glass per guest these days? Let me guess… the GFC. Let down but shortly over it, I return to the Annie Clifforth stand.

The crowd thins. The lights get brighter. The evening is assessed with satisfaction. The works of art are carefully packed into their tissue-lined boxes. The venue clears. I collect a goodie bag on the way out. Spring Carnival is brewing behind me as I leave a dark Flemington. See you, and your blossoms, in a few weeks dear friend, and thank you for another good time!