Monday, March 14, 2011

Bondi I Love You, But You're Bringing Me Down

Our good friend Brazel recently moved to a sweet little pad in North Bondi,* which means he has unwillingly accrued a posse of moochers, formerly known as his friends. The past few weekends have been spent at his and it's fair to say there'll be many more to come. If he doesn't flee town and take up residence at a silent address. 


Don't get me wrong, it's the ideal hood for youngins'. You feel like you're on holidays. It's the perfect escape, without even leaving Sydney. There's something about the ocean that makes you instantly happier. Hello weekend swims, Sunday markets and greasy cafe breakkies to aid your hang over. The problem is, there are just too many God damn beautiful people and quite frankly, it's most traumatising. There's only so much hot I can handle. And Bondi, you're a cesspool of sexy. Overflowing with glamazons galore. Ugh.


Take the Couch Boys for example. We almost crashed the car when we saw them. There they were, camped out the front of their apartment, chilling on a couch. They weren't just a bunch of blokes drinking VB with their guts out. Nuh uh. They looked like a group of male models. They may as well have been posing for an editorial spread in Vanity Fair. Our convo went a little something like this as we drove past them....


ME: Um, are you kidding me?


INGA: What the fuck? Are you serious?


ME: Those boys are so fucking good looking, it's actually inconsiderate. How dare they sit there being so awesome. 


We were gob smacked for the next few minutes. As my self esteem plunged, my anger rose. WHERE DO THESE PEOPLE COME FROM AND HOW DO THEY ALL FIND EACH OTHER? Is there some sort of secret society? Some sort of turbo-top secret Facebook group where these babes can connect with other babin' babes? Like yo, 'let's get in touch... I have a mad couch out the front of my house where we can hang and be pretty together.' 


So if you're planning on moving to Bondi and want to adapt the unique style to fit in, my buddies and I have done all the foot work for you. It's bo-ho chic meets 'is this organic?' The scruffier the better. Think moustaches, top hats, fedoras. Rock those Ksubi skinnies while sipping on your fresh carrot juice. Vintage shirts with holes are preferable. For a look that packs a punch, go all out and roll around in the gutter. Nothing shouts Bondi like a bit of miscellaneous garbage scattered nonchalantly on your person. Oh, and don't forget your couch!  


PS. I pose a question to you Couch Boys. I wanna know what you do when it rains, huh? It's not very hip hanging out on a mouldy smelling couch ya know. 


PPS. for anyone not familiar with the LCD Sound System's New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down reference, wig the song out here. It's tops. 


PPPS. Sorry for drawing facial hair on you Inga, hope you don't mind?


* FYI for those playing at home, all the trendoids say NORTH Bondi. Plain Bondi just won't cut it appazza. The true hipsters reside in the 'North'.

Bondi babes (yep, I'm wearing a beret). We got the look down pat!

3 comments:

  1. How did you know I loved popping frangipanis on my hats! I look ace with a beard, ditto with you and your one toof missing!

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  2. Yes, life is unfair like this. I had a similar experience this weekend at a friends apartment. We noticed what looked like a meeting of good looking people in the apartments across the way... even the guys, as much as I'd hate to admit it, we're good looking and these girls were stunning. 3 of each and they were all paired off. It seems that the world of good looking people is real and none of us are invited.

    Perhaps there must be some secret wall, kinda like platform 9 and 3/4... a magical land where they all meet, frolic and breed. I see rainbows and butterflies... ergh, makes me sick.

    We must find it and burn it to the ground. If not for ourselves, but our damn sensitive self esteems!

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