Sydney is beautiful today. The way this city is meant to be. Even better I think for the enormous storm that swept through last night, dumping dramatic sheets of water across the streets. This I know because I was on my way out the door to go have dinner, when the storm arrived in full force. Flashing lightning, near-by thunder, water streaming down the footpaths to a sizeable depth. On given the options (run through the rain, or forego dinner) I decided that, eh, water is water and drama is fun, so I ran for it. And quickly stopped running because the water on the concrete was flowing so thick and fast that if my feet landed heavily (as in running) it splashed back to drench me to above the knee. Trying to walk in a sopping wet satin fishtail skirt, oh my! So I slowed down and picked my way around the running streams that were the footpaths and the road, and was glad for braving it. Dinner was excellent. And I love the kind of weather where, in the pitch black of night, the lightning is so bright that I could see the blades of grass three inches below the surface of the water.
I went shopping yesterday with reckless abandon. What fun. I bought an insanely expensive skincare product, which makes me feel that (despite all financial evidence to the contrary) I have arrived in the middle class and the land of discretionary income. And today I noticed that my cute flat shoes with the buttons on them are splitting along one seam, which gives me all the excuse I need to go shoe shopping. No heels, mind (I am banned from buying high heels for at least the next few months). What I want is black, fully enclosed but not boots, slightly platform shoes with square toes and some kind of cute detail (such as contrast insets or a T-bar strap or similar). This should prove difficult enough to find that I will have to spend countless hours combing the shoe stores of Sydney. Which I’m sure I’ll hate. Every moment.
Festival this Sunday. I’m excited. Not so much about the park being packed full of people, or the mess and rubbish, or the likelihood that there will be rain. I’m excited about the excitement and the energy that will swallow the suburb for the day and which won’t quite go away until the end of Summer. This weekend is like the official opening of promenade season, the months of the year when well-dressed queers strut up and down the major streets eyeing each other off from behind fashionable sunglasses (even at eight o’clock at night). And that’s my favourite time of year.