For a big country town, Perth holds its own for homeward traffic. Stuck on the motorway with no spot to stop my vehicle and whip out the big gun, the iphone got the gig. I would have risked police intervention if only there had been space for the monster truck.
The sky was like this for around 4 minutes in total, and looked even more amazing before I was pulled inexorably into a tunnel, an excrutiating 2 minute crawl to freedom and vision at the other end.
Not sure what alerted me first; the spotted Peter Pan collar and pallid complexion, or his high hair and moustache worthy of a lead role in Deadwood. And the plaid. I am happy to declare Hipsters are alive and flourishing in the big country town. Ah Melbourne! So far and yet so near.
Spotted in the last couple of weeks, a few (of so many) good things!
Choosing backless on an 8 degree Melbourne morning.
The timeless tweed coat.
Anywhere in Tasmania. (This is Swansea in March.)
Sunrise on the Swan River, Perth, and the cyclists in red who regularly meet at the end of this jetty.
and when there’s too much of a good thing: Shortbread men for the undead, in Guilford, WA.
Three months in Perth and I’m feeling the need to distribute hugs.
It is not the perfect pink and gold sunrises over the glassy Swan River, bearing dolphins upstream to the imagined strains of spa music, that have brought this on.
Nor the buzzy cafe in a hoity-toity suburb, and strength of character that took this 20 something guy in his my-girlfriend-just-dumped-me-for-a-personal-trainer-wear to get up off the couch, pop on a suit jacket and aviators, and head out to his job, fashion forward.
No. It is the thread of angst that keeps popping up in otherwise happy places.
At a sunset concert, a balmy 26 degrees, barefoot girls with lovely skin in bamboo dresses, dancing on soft grass…
In the immensely secure arms of Kimbra’s amazing performance at the Metro last night before jetting off to the US…
On a security guards car. Even the Golf to the right looks angry…
C’mon Perth, my arms are wide open.