Oxford Nights 101
April 3rd 2006 00:50
.. Or, The Pros and Cons of Lipstick Bisexualism.
Potentially first serious girlfriend arrives from Newcastle on train. She’s wearing pink mini skirt and silky top, impractical high heels. Very cute, very feminine, very actually quite gorgeous. So far it’s all good. After obligatory deep and meaningful discussion (afternoon caffeine/sugar fix stretches on until Gloria Jeans staff threaten to start charging us rent) we browse through King St shops looking for sparkly things to wear out. Pro: Girlfriend can offer good advice on the best low-cut tops. Con: Over-excited salesgirls gush over her outfit and blatantly flirt.
So back home we get all dressed up and fight over the mirror, and ponder whether it’s actually cool to both be wearing near-identical buttery pleather black hooker boots. Etiquette advice anyone? But we made an adorable matched pair.. maybe too adorable to be setting off into the city by ourselves.
Being poor young student-types, the evening starts with the bus to Town Hall and running the straight-people gauntlet up Liverpool to Oxford St. That’s right people, pretty girls holding hands. To the various guys yelling from flashy cars, yes your amazing ability to slam various pedals and honk your horn makes me hot, and I’ll reward you with sexual favours instantly. Or maybe next time.
When we make it to Oxford the mood is different. If you live in Sydney and you don’t know about Oxford St… well, you don’t live in Sydney. It’s a friendly rainbow-draped place for gay people to swim around in like brightly-coloured fishes, and straight people come to tap on the glass and stare bemusedly into the fishbowl. Again no offence straight people. Some of my best friends are perfectly straight.
Although it buzzes with the male of the species, the environment was suddenly less threatening. Actually we only got groped at twice and flashed once.. and guy, it really wasn’t that cold!
Our first stop was Stonewall, no cover charge. You do have to squeeze through lots of tightly-packed bodies, and watch out for sweaty straight guys there to pick up girls (they think they have a great chance with lesbians? who are in short supply there anyway!) but there is music and dancing, various couches in dark corners, and rather scary bathrooms splattered in mysterious gooey substances.
Ah, first kiss… and very nice, except for the guy behind us who kept going ‘oooh, look, lesbians!’. Oh, and there’s major major con.. Loreal Invincible Kiss-Proof Lipstick (like a tattoo on your lips!) is so totally not. Neither is the Rimmel equivalent. Someone needs to do some intensive testing before they release products with such misleading campaigns! However a mild warning- having spread clown-makeup fashion all over your face it may suddenly decide to turn budge-proof.
Since the ‘ooh, lesbians’ guy was getting a trifle annoying we tripped on over to Arq. To be greeted by a (male) bouncer who looked us up and down and asked, literally, ‘Have you been here before? You do know it’s a gay bar don’t you?’ Oh no, of course not. We’re just here on Oxford St, two girls holding hands with various lipstick smears in compromising places, we had no idea! Gosh, we were totally there to pick up guys! Gah, my sexuality has been questioned. By someone who was not me! Was it the skirts, the high heels, the lipstick, the long hair? Anyway, they dubiously let us inside (after careful scrutiny of ID) and we ended up with a straight couple (yes a guy and a girl) making out on the couch next to us. Hmph… I wonder if they were asked if they knew where they were?
So once we had efficiently kissed off most of the lipstick we went upstairs to dance… very cool space, less claustrophobic than Stonewall with lazers and platforms, a wrap-around balcony for curious onlookers and air that actually resembles something other than sticky humid soup. Double plus signs, girlfriend makes instant relation to Queer as Folk club Babylon and demands we come back next time. Bouncers aside, happy to oblige.
Last note of warning- don’t trust bus timetables. Especially on Castlereagh St. They lie! Yes we literally walked all the way home in rather painful (though still sexy!) heeled hooker boots. Oh, and went to bed. Pro: Long hair (on head) is silky and interestingly textured. Con: Especially when there are two lots, it really does get in the way.
Potentially first serious girlfriend arrives from Newcastle on train. She’s wearing pink mini skirt and silky top, impractical high heels. Very cute, very feminine, very actually quite gorgeous. So far it’s all good. After obligatory deep and meaningful discussion (afternoon caffeine/sugar fix stretches on until Gloria Jeans staff threaten to start charging us rent) we browse through King St shops looking for sparkly things to wear out. Pro: Girlfriend can offer good advice on the best low-cut tops. Con: Over-excited salesgirls gush over her outfit and blatantly flirt.
So back home we get all dressed up and fight over the mirror, and ponder whether it’s actually cool to both be wearing near-identical buttery pleather black hooker boots. Etiquette advice anyone? But we made an adorable matched pair.. maybe too adorable to be setting off into the city by ourselves.
Being poor young student-types, the evening starts with the bus to Town Hall and running the straight-people gauntlet up Liverpool to Oxford St. That’s right people, pretty girls holding hands. To the various guys yelling from flashy cars, yes your amazing ability to slam various pedals and honk your horn makes me hot, and I’ll reward you with sexual favours instantly. Or maybe next time.
When we make it to Oxford the mood is different. If you live in Sydney and you don’t know about Oxford St… well, you don’t live in Sydney. It’s a friendly rainbow-draped place for gay people to swim around in like brightly-coloured fishes, and straight people come to tap on the glass and stare bemusedly into the fishbowl. Again no offence straight people. Some of my best friends are perfectly straight.
Although it buzzes with the male of the species, the environment was suddenly less threatening. Actually we only got groped at twice and flashed once.. and guy, it really wasn’t that cold!
Our first stop was Stonewall, no cover charge. You do have to squeeze through lots of tightly-packed bodies, and watch out for sweaty straight guys there to pick up girls (they think they have a great chance with lesbians? who are in short supply there anyway!) but there is music and dancing, various couches in dark corners, and rather scary bathrooms splattered in mysterious gooey substances.
Ah, first kiss… and very nice, except for the guy behind us who kept going ‘oooh, look, lesbians!’. Oh, and there’s major major con.. Loreal Invincible Kiss-Proof Lipstick (like a tattoo on your lips!) is so totally not. Neither is the Rimmel equivalent. Someone needs to do some intensive testing before they release products with such misleading campaigns! However a mild warning- having spread clown-makeup fashion all over your face it may suddenly decide to turn budge-proof.
Since the ‘ooh, lesbians’ guy was getting a trifle annoying we tripped on over to Arq. To be greeted by a (male) bouncer who looked us up and down and asked, literally, ‘Have you been here before? You do know it’s a gay bar don’t you?’ Oh no, of course not. We’re just here on Oxford St, two girls holding hands with various lipstick smears in compromising places, we had no idea! Gosh, we were totally there to pick up guys! Gah, my sexuality has been questioned. By someone who was not me! Was it the skirts, the high heels, the lipstick, the long hair? Anyway, they dubiously let us inside (after careful scrutiny of ID) and we ended up with a straight couple (yes a guy and a girl) making out on the couch next to us. Hmph… I wonder if they were asked if they knew where they were?
So once we had efficiently kissed off most of the lipstick we went upstairs to dance… very cool space, less claustrophobic than Stonewall with lazers and platforms, a wrap-around balcony for curious onlookers and air that actually resembles something other than sticky humid soup. Double plus signs, girlfriend makes instant relation to Queer as Folk club Babylon and demands we come back next time. Bouncers aside, happy to oblige.
Last note of warning- don’t trust bus timetables. Especially on Castlereagh St. They lie! Yes we literally walked all the way home in rather painful (though still sexy!) heeled hooker boots. Oh, and went to bed. Pro: Long hair (on head) is silky and interestingly textured. Con: Especially when there are two lots, it really does get in the way.
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