Darlinghurst Blog: Detritus: Happy New Year

Okay, so it has taken me a while to wake up and pull my socks on in 2012, but Happy Bloody (Mary) New Year!

By 11am on January 1, I was sitting at a footpath table at the Darlo Bar knocking back bloody marys and resolving to do as little as possible for the remainder of the day.

Unfortunately that steely resolve of mine lasted almost two weeks, so that now it is already halfway through the first month of the year and I have done nothing much that would be of interest to anyone, least of all Ralf, the street cat (see below modelling his new bell-collar that lasted about two days).

It is now January 13 and I have at last made some new year's resolutions, which include:

• to see more sunrises;
• to write more; and
• a whole bunch of other things that would sound wanky and predictable.

If I at least stick to the second resolution, there should be some fresh blog posts in coming days.

But you know how these things go. 

What are your resolutions for the new year? And have you managed to keep them?

Darlinghurst Blog: Street Art: I Will Miss You (Amy Winehouse)

This whimsical paste-up appeared on the wall of ABC Cellars on the corner of Darlinghurst Road and Farrell Avenue last week. The ghostly girl leaves a trail of tears that wrap around the corner of the bottle shop. 

And in some of the tear drops are the words, ''I will miss you''.

Apparently the artwork is a tribute to British musician Amy Winehouse, who died at the age of 27 on July 23 - which is why it has been pasted up on the wall of a wine-house. Geddit? There's a similar artwork by the same artist on the wall of the Royal Sovereign Hotel, another wine-house up the road:

I think they're really sweet pieces and I particularly love the colours of the woman's skirt. 

It's been a long time since I have seen such clever artworks on the streets of Darlinghurst. Come on artists, be inspired and share some more art around!

Darlinghurst Blog: Past and Present: Royal Sovereign Hotel

From the 1880s to the 1920s, The Royal Sovereign Hotel in Darlinghurst was the scene of numerous political speeches. Local council candidates would use the corner pub as a place to meet the electorate and would either speak from the bar or from the lace-metal balcony. At some meetings, crowds of up to 300 people would gather on the street to hear from the politicians on the balcony above. 

I love the picture above, from Trove, which shows the Royal Sovereign, St John's Church and Darlinghurst Road in the 1920s. Click on it to enlarge it so that you see the bill posters along the wall on the right. 

The other two archive pictures (at top and below) were taken in 1925 and are from the council's demolition books. The Victorian-era hotel was demolished soon after and a new, longer and higher hotel was built on its place. 

Almost 90 years later the hotel still stands on the corner of Liverpool Street and Darlinghurst Road, and while it remains the Sovereign Hotel, it is more commonly known as the Darlo Bar. 

The Darlo Bar is owned by the same group, Solotel, who own the Kings Cross Hotel and Green Park Hotel. 

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Links:

City of Sydney Archives

City of Sydney ArchivePix

Across the Border: Kings Cross: Bars: Fountain Cafe

I'm sub-titling this post as ''Bars'' rather than ''Food'', because I would definitely go back to the Fountain Cafe to drink but I wouldn't make a visit just to eat. I started drinking here only a few weeks ago when I discovered that it's loner-friendly and offers two drinks for the price of one until 9pm weeknights. That's about $7.50 for two beers, which isn't bad if you aren't in the mood for a pick-up pub.

It really is a good place to go for a drink when you happen to be on your own and thirsty, because you never have to fight for a table and its prime location on the bend, where Macleay Street and Darlinghurst Road meet, means there is lots of people- and car-watching to be done.

That voyeurism includes watching the countless tourists that like to photograph themselves in front of the El Alamein Fountain on the edge of Fitzroy Gardens:

So when my locally-based friend, Sapphire Tenzing (no relation of Sherpa), was up for a balmy summer evening drink al fresco last week, we chose The Fountain Cafe, because we had no energy to seek out a rare, highly coveted outdoor table at the Darlo Bar or Green Park Hotel. 

We began by ordering four glasses of white wine. As you do.
There isn't a wide selection to choose from on the happy hour menu, but the Rothbury Estate Semillon Sauvignon Blanc seemed like a better bet than the Lindemans. And the first two glasses went down quite well.

We decided to order food to soak up some of the alcohol, but I must admit we didn't have much faith in the kitchen, so it took us a rather long time to make a decision. The cafe is open from 7.30am to 11pm and serves breakfast, lunch and dinner. I will have to ask my friend, Ruby Molteno - The Queen of All Day Breakfasts - to try out their bacon and eggs, because I'm sure they would pass the test. The lunch offerings include sandwiches and burgers, while the ''all day'' dinner menu is made up of salads, pastas, pizza and ''Asian dishes''. We eventually settled on the grilled dory with chips and salad for me, and for Sapph, a Moroccan lamb pizza, which we had spied looking good on another table.

The fish arrived in a somewhat unpleasant, rich butter sauce. It was advertised like that on the blackboard so I only have myself to blame. I scraped most of it off and ate the fish, which was dry and unexciting.

The pizza, on the other hand, was quite delicious and enough for two people. The lamb wasn't chewy and there were refreshing blobs of yoghurt and rocket leaves scattered across the top.

I think we ordered about three or four more glasses of wine, but I don't recall exactly, because by that time night had long fallen and the Fountain Cafe staff wanted to close. 

We left a good tip before we were booted out on to the street and at that stage we probably should have gone home to ready ourselves for work the following day. Wise decisions are never made at 11pm, when you have had a few drinks. So we decided to kick on. 

We ended up at the Goldfish Bar in the Crest Hotel on the Darlinghurst Road strip. But it's probably best not to bore you with the drunken details and instead leave you with this lovely festive photograph of the fountain:

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Fountain Cafe

18 Darlinghurst Road

Kings Cross NSW 2011

02 9358 6009

www.fountaincafe.com.au

Darlinghurst: Fashion: Russell Wade Clothing

When I first went into Russell Wade's mens' clothing shop, I felt a strange pang of jealousy and disappointment at the fact that I wasn't born a man.

Frankly, I don't know why any man living in the area would want to buy clothes anywhere other than Russell Wade Clothing. And as far as women's wear shops in the neighbourhood are concerned, nothing even comes close. 

Russell Wade's two-room shopfront on Darlinghurst Road, just across from the Darlo Bar, is part of a Victorian-era terrace house group, listed on the City of Sydney council's heritage register. 

His shop is also home to the finest collection of menswear in Sydney. Each shirt is made from unique, secretly sourced fabrics and finished with the greatest care for details, such as buttons, button-holes, collars, cuffs and pockets. 

There are colourful shirts, conservative shirts and absolutely fine early 19th Century-style shirts. Most have two useful pockets, and buttonholes top-stitched in contrasting colours, so they are not only practical, they are pieces of art.

And to add to the wonder of his shop, there are dozens to choose from:

There are styles that are quirky:

Conservative:

And cute:

All the clothing, which includes trousers, jackets and oh-so-beautiful-waistcoats, is made in Sydney and designed by the genius that is Russell Wade. He also sells sunglasses, the most luxurious-looking, Italian-made leather shoes, as well as ties and bow-ties.

Part of the joy of going into Russell Wade's shop and browsing through the racks is to meet the excellent man himself. In appearance and mannerisms, Wade is like a cross between Seinfeld's neighbour, Kramer, and Doc from the Back to the Future movies. 

He is tall and kitted out in the finest designs from his collection and wildly moves his hands around as he talks enthusiastically. And he is happy to talk about anything and everything, but most recently we have discussed design, vegetarianism and crop circles. 

Wade subscribes to Nexus Magazine and the last time I was in his shop, he waved around an article about crop circles and insisted I read it, right then and there. Wade is also a passionate vegetarian and made me take home a copy of an article he had photocopied about the environmental impacts and health concerns related to the digestion of animal meat. 

He also usually has a book about history, photography or design on the go and last time showed me a stunning picture of a model wearing nothing else but Alexander McQueen's 12-inch, lobster-claw-shaped Armadillo heels:

On another occasion, Wade was wading through a Historic Houses Trust book that featured police mug shots from 1912 to 1948. ''Look at this great waistcoat,'' he said, pointing to a photograph of a well-dressed crook. No doubt, the design cropped up in one of his later pieces.
Wade was happy to let me photograph his shop but wouldn't allow me to snap his portrait, so you will have to make-do with my illustration below.
Or, a better idea: pop in to his shop, meet the tailor and replenish your wardrobe.

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Russell Wade Clothing

269 Darlinghurst Road

Darlinghurst NSW 2010

0415 335 042

Darlinghurst: Food: Mad Pizza e Bar

For the past few weeks my horticulturalist girlfriend Ruby Molteno has been talking about the impending bonus she was due to receive from her employer. She couldn't wait to spend it on new frocks, home-wares and a video camera.

Well, the money arrived in her bank account yesterday and wasn't quite as much as she had budgeted for her shopping spree, but to celebrate she offered to shout me dinner.

Ruby also lives in the neighbourhood, down at ''Darlinghurst Flats'', which for me is the area that sprawls down from Darlinghurst Road (the Ridge area) to the Sydney CBD. I tried to book a table at a newish (six-months-old) tapas place in the flats, called Lot 40, but I only made it through to their message service, so instead we met at the Darlo Bar (on the ridge) and from there we went looking for an outdoor table.

It was a perfect Spring evening in Sydney: balmy, the smell of salt in the air and no annoying wind, so we stopped and sat at the first available al fresco table, which happened to be at Mad Pizza e Bar, at 312 Victoria Street.

We ordered a crispy and fresh, rocket, pear, walnut and Parmesan salad to share, and because I only had my iPhone camera, the picture is a little blurry:

When Mad Pizza first opened they sold square pizza by the slice, but now it is circular and much larger. Their pizza is the truly Italian pizza, with a thin base and minimal toppings, rather than the thick-crusted, greasy, cheesy American pizza (New York pizza is closer to the Italian-style so doesn't fall under my US generalisation in this instance).

I didn't feel like pizza and I had read an article last week about the fettucine and meatballs at Fratelli Fresh's Sopra restaurant. Apparently the dish is so good, grown men cry if the kitchen has run out. As a result I had pasta and meatballs on the brain, so that's what I ordered:

The serving was so generous, I took half of it home in a plastic container to have for lunch today. Ruby ordered penne with chicken and there was nothing left to take-away.

Both dishes tasted authentically Italian and were full of punchy flavour, but they were luke-warm, as if they had been put on the kitchen servery and forgotten about. Ruby had a glass of white wine, while I had a Peroni beer and the bill came to about $70 - but what did I care? I wasn't paying.

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Mad Pizza e Bar

312 Victoria Street

Darlinghurst NSW 2010

02 9020 7186

www.madinitalia.com

Darlinghurst: My Story

I first moved to Darlinghurst in 2002. I had been living in share-houses in East Redfern and Surry Hills but so desperately wanted a place of my own. The reason for selecting Darlinghurst was because it had, and still has, so many more studio apartments than Surry Hills or Redfern, which have mostly terrace houses and one- and two-bedroom apartments.

I only looked at one studio apartment in Darlinghurst and I was smitten. It was at 7/40 Hardie Street, next door to Flash Auto Repairs - run by the charming Peter - and just a skip away from the Darlo Bar, Green Park Hotel and the 311 bus stop.

The picture above is one of the few photographs I have of apartment number seven and was taken on a special day (face flowered for privacy) and here is a photograph of 40 Hardie Street (to the left) that I took the other day:

The rent for apartment number seven was $170 a week and $5 less than I was paying in the share-house. It was small but I didn't know any better. The kitchen was an afterthought, the bathroom had a sliding-door and the windows looked out to brick-walls and a light-well, but I loved it because it was my own.

The 12-room apartment building sold for $1.56 million two years after I moved in and was purchased by three young, and very clever, men (Arthur, Lans and Sava). They were good landlords and never put the rent up. One of them even kindly came to remove a huntsman spider that had made itself a home in the corner of the room above my bed.

I lived at number seven for five glorious years, hosting cosy (squashy) dinner parties for six, befriending the local cats and falling in love with the neighbourhood.

But my book and dress collection was steadily growing and it was clear I needed more space, so when the apartment next door - number eight - became available, I asked if I could have it. The following week I carried all my possessions about 2m to the place next door.

Number eight was a dream. It had beautiful windows that looked out on to Hayden Lane and to the rear of French restaurant Sel e Poivre, so that the kitchen staff's musical Gallic accents came floating up into my home. Another positive was that the apartment also had a bathtub.

Here is a picture of number eight:

I loved that apartment to death and even had it painted a gorgeous shade of yummy, rich clotted-cream before I moved in. I also installed a paper blind in the kitchen and thick-cream, light-blocking curtains in the main room. Sadly I wasn't to stay there for very long.

After just six months of living in luxury I accepted a job far, far away and in April 2007 moved out of Darlinghurst and gave up number eight for someone else.

Here is a picture of my last day at number eight, when I had to hand over the keys:

To be honest, I was actually glad to be moving out of Darlinghurst and Sydney. I was frustrated by my job and needed to move away from the stinky city I had grown to hate. I especially loathed the excessive planting of Plane trees, which shed fine, pollen-coated hairs every Spring and cause so much grief for my poor throat and nose. I was tired of hearing about rising property prices and the fact that every time I stepped out the door, life seemed to cost me $50.

So I moved to the seaside where I had ocean views, a car-space and a verandah for only $170 a week - 1990s prices!

For the first 18 months I was fine. I returned to Darlinghurst and the surrounding suburbs regularly to see my then lover-boy and other friends and it was almost as if I had never left.

Almost. After that first honeymoon phase I began to miss my old neighbourhood. I missed walking the streets at night, the noise and the characters.

There was one particular scene of the neighbourhood that I would replay in my head. It was walking home at dusk from Taylor Square and then alongside the National Art School, towards Burton Street. There would be a sense of peace about the neighbourhood as fruit bats in their thousands flew overhead from the Royal Botanic Gardens to search for their evening feast, while the city's workers also made their way home for dinner.

The strongest, most memorable image of that walk though, is of a large gothic-looking house on the corner of Forbes and Burton Streets, which would be in silhouette against the dying day. I loved that house at that time of day. It thrilled me for some reason. I'm sure I have a photograph of it somewhere too. (I was pleased to see today that the house is still there. Although it looks like the Caritas psychiatric hospital across the road is soon to be demolished to make way for a fancy apartment block - more on that another day.)

So anyway, I missed old Darlo and badly wanted to be back in number eight, as if the whole move out of Sydney had never happened.

I set about plotting my return and in September last year began looking at Darlinghurst studios and discovered that rents had gone up by $100 a week in the 2.5 years I was gone. It was sad, but there are worse things to spend your money on.

I trawled through the rental ads on Domain.com every waking hour for weeks and it was on a Saturday morning when I finally found what I was looking for. I am very picky. It had to be a 1930s-40s build, so that I would have high ceilings and none of that porridgey stuff they started spraying on ceilings in the 60s. It also had to have light: don't want to be depressed. And polished floors. A built in wardrobe (I don't want to own another piece of furniture). And a bathtub would be dandy too.

The place on Royston Street appeared to have everything. I dashed to the real estate agency as soon as they opened up shop and put in an application, which was approved by Sunday night and on Tuesday I inspected it and the keys were in my hands.

Here is a picture of Royston Street:

It is not the greatest street in Darlinghurst. One has to hike up Oporto Hill (or Vomit Hill, as it appears on Sunday mornings) to reach it, and it is surrounded by the dastardly plane trees, but it will do for now. Secretly, I still want number eight back.

Here is a picture of the view from my sunroom across the rooftops of Paddington with St Vincent's Hospital to the right:

Here is a picture of the view from my kitchen window, down to Rushcutters Bay and over to Darling Point. I can actually see the Moran family's mansion, Swifts.

Happy, happy to be home...

UPDATE: October 2011: I am now employed by the City of Sydney and feel that I should declare my interest here in case I should ever by accused of bias.
I have just left an industry that I loved for 10 years to embark on this new adventure and I am very excited about my new position at Town Hall, especially because I will be able to pop down to the City of Sydney Archives in my lunch breaks. And hopefully this can only be a good thing for my My Darling Darlinghurst.
Opinions, thoughts and adventures will remain my own and I still make no money from this blog; it has and always will be a labour of love.