Cup Day in Melbourne is a great affair. If you have to work (like moi) there’s a weird sense of being at work on a Saturday with a bunch of badly dressed, unfun people.
Although some did their bit – like wonderful Glen resplendent in her annual Cup Day cycling helmet extravaganza.
Elsewhere – on trams, trains, in cafes and hotels , clutches of people dressed like Papua New Guinean birds and stuffed Partridges stand as upright as meerkats on burrow duty.
Coiffed and curled and lacquered and polished – how we, the workers of the world, look on and mutter under our breath.
The weather was glorious, everyone basked in the congeniality fostered by State endorsed gambling and flowing alcohol, the favourite won, a woman trainer was victorious. How much better could this be?
So as I returned to the station, just as the waves of returned funsters left the station, I had to get a few pics of the day trippers – many of them grasping with the concept of public transport for the first time.
The wonderful influence of Baz Luhrman and Catherine Martin’s Great Gatsby was everywhere to be seen and even the National Gallery’s current exhibition on Edward Steichen and Art Deco Fashion set the mood for the city.