There are some amazingly good looking people in Bondi Beach, mainly wearing low key yet achingly hip clobber.
But there are also a lot of men wearing speedos – so it balances out. They wear these speedos proudly, often with words across the top of their taught, toned buttocks spelling out the name of the life surf saving club they belong to; Icebergs, North Bondi. Some – inexplicably – have the words 'budgie smugglers.' Please explain?
You do also get some real glamour pusscats teetering along on wedges, for-display-only bikinis and sunglasses with lenses the size of dinner plates. But the other day I saw something so wrong,so pointless - even more inexplicable than bird trafficking swim wear.
It was a pair of trousers that even Wallace and Gromit wouldn't even try to fix. They were lime green, high-waisted net affairs. The weave of the net was large, so each hole was the size of a 5 cent piece. They afforded no sun protection, no modesty, no warmth and definitely no impression that the wearer had a functional brain. It looked like her legs had been attacked by an angry neon fisherman's net still going through its 80s rave phase.
It certainly put the speedos into perspective.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Shark! Shark! Shark?
Surfers are a fairly macho bunch. Even the 'oceanbelongstoeveryoneman' ones are. Why? Because it is really hard and can be dangerous. Sharks, drowning, sunburn.
The other day we were at Whale Beach – a beautiful spot on Sydney's North Shores watching a group of surfers as the sun went down. They were surfing at the north end of the beach by some flat rocks. Cunning surfers save their arm strength by trotting along the beach, over the rocks and jumping in past the breaking waves and hey presto there they are.
But in a break from the norm we saw one guy paddling for the rocks and scrambling out in flailing, heaving, crablike fashion. Surfers while not being macho are cool. Cool, cool, cool. But not this guy.
He was being encouraged by a women and teenage girl on the rocks and as he scrambled out he turned to the other surfers and all three started shouting,
'Shark! We've just seen a shark.'
The other surfers turned and nodded. The women continued to call,
'Shark?'
Had they heard? One guy put his thumbs up, smiled, swivelled his board shorewards and paddled serenely for a wave.
The three came passed us on their way to inform the lifeguard further up the beach. The guy I saw was probably about 18. On his short, pointy board the words, 'Death or Glory' were marked in Gothic script.
What would I have on my board? Patience or Moderation? Happiness and Calm? Doughnuts or Beer?
The other day we were at Whale Beach – a beautiful spot on Sydney's North Shores watching a group of surfers as the sun went down. They were surfing at the north end of the beach by some flat rocks. Cunning surfers save their arm strength by trotting along the beach, over the rocks and jumping in past the breaking waves and hey presto there they are.
But in a break from the norm we saw one guy paddling for the rocks and scrambling out in flailing, heaving, crablike fashion. Surfers while not being macho are cool. Cool, cool, cool. But not this guy.
He was being encouraged by a women and teenage girl on the rocks and as he scrambled out he turned to the other surfers and all three started shouting,
'Shark! We've just seen a shark.'
The other surfers turned and nodded. The women continued to call,
'Shark?'
Had they heard? One guy put his thumbs up, smiled, swivelled his board shorewards and paddled serenely for a wave.
The three came passed us on their way to inform the lifeguard further up the beach. The guy I saw was probably about 18. On his short, pointy board the words, 'Death or Glory' were marked in Gothic script.
What would I have on my board? Patience or Moderation? Happiness and Calm? Doughnuts or Beer?
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