Glorious Descent

Glorious Descent
Acrylic on canvas 60 x 40cm

Saturday, January 15, 2011

2.30 AM Treasures

It was one of those Saturday nights that had humble beginnings but which escalated with plans and occurrences all over town. Only to conclude in the simplest of chance encounters, which proved far more rewarding than the attempted glamour of the evening.

Like a scene out of the quintessential Australian film, The Castle, the evening began with drinks in a suburban backyard of Stanmore. Concrete sealed every last inch of outdoor space in the 1960's red brick apartment complex. With the hills hoist proudly positioned in the centre of the yard, it proved a useful frame from which to drape a blue plastic tarp in case of rain. Though no amount of concrete or plastic tarp could ever block out the monstrous sound of 747's, as they swooped overhead every 15 minutes. At these moments the gentle chatter of the house party guests would rise to an abrupt volume, then diminish once more as the plane disappeared. Despite all efforts to maintain the chilled temperature of the beer in the retired outhouse, the best way to combat the enveloping humidity was to drink ones way through the cases of beer that were arriving. As we munched through snacks, we smacked mozzies on our legs and talked about all number of important subjects, such as Trish's new hair do and her lovely lady lover.

As 11.30 arrived as did the drop in gang, politely saying hello only to parade out once more in their 'alien' costumes, ready for another party. I am seduced every time when it comes to fancy dress, and this evening was no different. Despite being quite adamant that I wasn't going to drink nor venture onto oxford street, the tin foil and antennas were just too much to handle. Grabbing a friend by the hand I whisked her back to my house and we embarked upon a 20 minute costume creation, we were going to this party. Out with the body glitter, hairspray, tin foil, bobbins and spandex we fashioned some 'alienesque' outfits and ran for the last train out of Erskineville.

Lined up like animals in a cattle yard, we waited to get into the venue. Already I was attentive to the lack of costumes in the queue, but the adrenalin had excited me and my spirits weren't dampened. Once inside though, it was like a scene from a Hollywood movie, where the un popular birthday party guest is the only one invited to a 'costume' themed party, in fact, they are the comedian for the evening ! Dressed to the alien nines I was surprisingly unaffected - that's the power of costume: Inhibition. And so the evening progressed into sweaty dance floor moves until the air conditioned taxi out of there proved too appealing.

Dropped off at the end of my street, I walked past the usual addresses until I reached the un official depository for unwanted items. It were as if my prayers had been answered. I had recently been wanting to mark a certain 'coming of age' and felt it was high time I invested in some staple, nurturing house items. I had acquired a beautiful dinner set two years ago, 2010 had seen the arrival of a coffee machine and now I felt I wanted a rug, a persian rug, one that I would have forever. And there it was. Rolled up on the footpath next to box of crockery, photo frames and various miniature figurines. My Persian rug. I would now transform from alien into Aladin, and fly my magic carpet home.

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