All Imagery by Toni VezirisSilver cocktail picks in Surry Hills, shared plates in Sydenham, sculpture in Bondi and a boat to lunch. I’m becoming difficult to find at home.
After the last round of outings, I got a little too confident. I thought I could do this every week. Leave the house. See people. Roam the city with a camera and a reasonable attitude.
The reasonable attitude was ambitious. But I had the camera.
There was a Maison Balzac launch, dinner with four women from my fashion world, my first visit to Sculpture by the Sea and an invitation to lunch at Taronga.
Somewhere in there, I even caught the Metro. Those who know me may need a moment.
Maison Balzac: the olive has representation now
It’s always a pleasant trip to Maison Balzac in Surry Hills.
A few familiar faces. Derek, of course. A few unfamiliar faces, which is fine. I’m easy once I’m in the room. Most of my objections happen at home, while getting dressed.
The occasion was Maison Balzac’s collaboration with blonde. Design: cocktail picks handmade in Sydney from solid 925 sterling silver. Individually cut, constructed, soldered and shaped.
All this attention, and the olive hasn’t even arrived yet.
They were beautiful. Little sculptures you could use in a martini. The sort of object you don’t realise you want until somebody makes a very good version of it and your ordinary toothpick starts looking like a personal failure.
I had a good chat with the guy behind blonde., too. Cool guy. Interesting work. Someone I’d like to sit down with for a proper interview.
This is usually how a feature begins: I enjoy a conversation and decide the person should now answer forty more questions.
The fries looked great in their little branded packets. I took photographs but didn’t eat any. I’d already had my cheese cube that day and was briefly pretending to exercise restraint.
Summer is coming. Apparently, I’d decided to prepare through selective misery.
A few snaps, a few chats, good people. Maison does these evenings well. You look at beautiful things, catch up with people and come away considering purchases you had no intention of making an hour earlier.
Then I remembered Yo-Chi was up the hill. Well. I was already in the neighbourhood. The fries had been declined for no reason at all.
Let’s Chon: five people, shared plates, no straight conversation
Maria called and invited me to dinner at Let’s Chon, a Filipino place in Sydenham. I’d never been there. I’d never been out for Filipino food, either. Joining us were Sarah, Amy and Lidija. Three makeup artists and a stylist, all people I know through fashion, plus me.
I hadn’t seen them properly for a while, having been away for a few months. There was plenty to catch up on, and I always enjoy their company, even if I tend to take a perfectly healthy conversation and steer it towards something nobody wanted to discuss over food.
Let’s Chon had green walls, laminated menus and a neon pig.
I liked it immediately, although I was still doing that thing where I inspect an unfamiliar restaurant as if I have any qualifications.
I could only see one staff member, which briefly made me wonder whether she was also cooking, taking bookings and managing the national economy.
We ordered shared plates, which is a good way to try a cuisine you don’t know. A bit of this, a bit of that, and enough happening across the table to keep you interested.
It also meant I could follow everyone else’s lead. My chilli tolerance is poor. I’ve accepted this. I don’t need to ruin four other people’s dinner by suddenly discovering courage. The food was pretty good. I enjoyed trying things outside my usual rotation, passing plates around and having a proper catch-up.
I’m hardly going to explain Filipino cuisine to anyone after one dinner in Sydenham. I’d barely got through the menu. What I can say is that it made for a good evening.
Shared plates suit a table like ours. Everyone gets involved. Food moves around, conversations overlap, somebody remembers something from a shoot, and I offer a contribution that briefly makes everyone reconsider allowing me to speak.
It’s nice seeing people away from work. On a shoot, you get interrupted just as the conversation gets good. At dinner, someone can finally finish the story. Unless I interrupt it. I took a few photographs. We ate, talked and caught up on the months we’d missed. Dessert, unfortunately, wasn’t my thing. This was disappointing because I’d arrived with very strong intentions in that department. I’m open-minded about most of a meal, but by dessert I want a fairly dependable relationship.
We didn’t have one. Woollies and I sorted it out afterwards. As for the stomach concerns I’d invented before we’d even ordered: completely unnecessary. Fine that evening. Fine the next day.
I’d spent part of the night mentally preparing for consequences, and the only actual consequence was buying more dessert.
Sculpture by the Sea: I finally went, you can stop asking
Every year, I think about going to Sculpture by the Sea. Then I don’t. It’s been a reliable arrangement. This time, I was walking Stella, my Staffy daughter, and the weather was good enough to make me reconsider going straight home. So I headed to Bondi. And found parking. Again.
I’ve been having a suspicious run of luck with this lately. I’m enjoying it quietly in case talking about it alerts somebody at council. Bondi, I love you. Let’s give that a minute. I was emotional about the parking. I’d arrived with fairly modest expectations and my usual willingness to judge things.
Then the work was beautiful, which made that difficult. Sculpture, blue sky, the sea behind it. You’d walk around a piece, and the whole photograph would change. Another angle, another bit of coastline, another reason to take essentially the same picture. I photographed most of what I saw. It was a good reminder that looking at work in person asks a little more of you. You have to move around it. Spend some time. Occasionally wait for someone to stop standing in the middle of it, checking their phone. I was enjoying myself.
Then I asked for what I thought was a flyer. Ten dollars. My brain immediately translated that into about three boxes of cookies at Woollies. That’s where we are financially and spiritually. I politely said thank you and walked away, continuing my visit without the supporting literature.
A man in a hat also kept appearing in front of me. I changed my route several times. Somehow, there he was again. By the third appearance, I’d started treating it like a coordinated operation. He was annoying me. His hat was annoying me. I can’t offer a convincing explanation beyond that. Sometimes you’re having a lovely day and decide a stranger’s headwear needs to be dealt with internally. For all I know, he was changing direction to avoid the man who kept photographing everything and looking irritated. We may both be writing about this.
Eventually, I returned my attention to the art, which deserved considerably more of it. I’m glad I went. Genuinely beautiful work, a great day and a part of Sydney I’d been successfully avoiding for no particularly good reason.
Would I go again? Let me finish by saying I'm pleased I went once.
Me-Gal: I caught public transport and was rewarded with a boat
The invitation was to preview Me-Gal by Matt Stone at Taronga, with a private boat transfer from Circular Quay. I decided to catch the Metro into the city. For the first time. Yes, I’m aware. I parked at a station, got on and was in the city about ten minutes later. Four stops. Clean. Excellent air conditioning. I was impressed. Other passengers were going about their lives while I quietly assessed the infrastructure like a visiting minister.
I took a few photographs, naturally. Nothing says “I use this all the time” like documenting the train. Tax money well spent. Particularly the air conditioning. I felt an immediate return on my investment. At Circular Quay, I followed the instructions and found Gravity waiting at the pontoon.
A beautiful black boat. Very sexy. I said hello to a few familiar faces and tried to board with the casual air of someone whose afternoons regularly involve this sort of thing. Then they asked us to take our shoes off. A strong day to have worn new socks. A few of the sockless guests seemed to be having a more complicated moment. It’s quite intimate, suddenly producing your feet in front of people you’ve only just met professionally.
We set off across the harbour in beautiful weather. Blue water, clear sky, the city passing by. I kept taking photographs, occasionally remembering to lower the camera and actually look at where I was. Sydney is very good at this. You spend weeks complaining about it, then get on a boat and start behaving as you work for tourism.
Taronga was another first. Before anyone says anything, I wasn’t the only one. Electric cars were waiting when we arrived. Fancy. I’d started the day in a station car park and was now being transported around Taronga without having made a single useful contribution.
Ali and Rosie from Electric Collective had everything running beautifully, and it was a lovely group of people. Then came the lift. Everyone’s feet had arranged themselves into a strangely pleasing composition. The angles, the spacing, the geometry of people fitting into a small space. So I pointed my compact camera down and took a photograph. With flash.
There’s no discreet way to do that. You have to explain yourself immediately. Everyone had a giggle. A few OnlyFans comments followed. Suddenly, the people questioning my behaviour were suggesting revenue streams. I saw a composition, peeps. You brought the business plan.
Matt Stone makes a very good case for lunch
The preview was at Gili Rooftop, above Me-Gal, and the view was stunning. The Opera House, the Harbour Bridge, all that water. Sydney from an angle I hadn’t properly experienced before. I’d crossed the harbour and somehow felt much further from my usual day.
Five glasses of sparkly water helped establish the occasion. Then we sat down. Matt came out and introduced himself. Easygoing, down to earth and clearly someone who knows his shit. I liked him. His approach puts Australian produce at the centre, with an emphasis on using ingredients thoughtfully and reducing waste. Preservation, fermentation, pickling: a kitchen interested in getting the most out of what comes through the door. I was interested. I was also ready to eat.
The menu opened with lemon myrtle iced tea, followed by crudo with desert lime and potato terrine. An excellent start. Potato terrine also has a certain persuasive power over me. You can spend ten minutes describing your cooking philosophy, but mention the potato situation early and you’ll have my full attention.
Next came Jersey milk cheese curds with sunrise lime and globe artichoke. The cheese cube I’d been so pleased with earlier in the week now seemed a fairly bleak arrangement. This was a much better way to have lunch.
The menu kept giving us something to pay attention to: different ingredients, things I knew alongside things I don’t eat every day. Plenty to talk about between looking out the window and checking what was arriving next.
Then came peppered lamb scotch fillet with spring vegetables. I’m Greek. There was always going to be a receptive audience for the lamb. By this stage, I’d comfortably abandoned any lingering idea of restraint. The food was delicious, the company was good, and nobody was asking me to be anywhere else. A situation I’m well equipped to enjoy. With that view, you could easily spend the whole afternoon discussing the harbour and forget to mention lunch.
I came away wanting to talk about the food, too. Especially dessert. Lemon and green ant tart with cultured cream. Green ants. A week earlier, I’d been worrying about how I’d handle dinner in Sydenham. Now I was at Taronga eating a tart involving ants.
I’m growing as a person. In several directions, probably. It was a delicious finish, and an interesting one. Something to remember beyond “yes, we had dessert”, which, given my priorities, was always going to matter.
The menu also featured Matt’s own 2025 Chardonnay, Pinot Gris and Pinot Noir. Food and wine. Very organised of him. I can barely coordinate what’s in my fridge.
Me-Gal by Matt Stone is due to launch on 15 December. This was an upstairs preview, and I’m keen to see how the full experience comes together.
I’d happily return. The transport alone now feels within my capabilities.
Thank you for continuing to invite me
Thank you to Maison Balzac and blonde. for a lovely evening, and to Derek and the familiar faces who make the trip to Surry Hills feel easy.
To Maria, Sarah, Amy and Lidija: loved the catch-up. Thank you for dinner, and for letting me stay in the conversation after several opportunities to remove me.
To the artists and organisers behind Sculpture by the Sea: I finally came, I looked properly, and I enjoyed it. You had to work around my personality, but we got there.
And to Matt, the kitchen and service teams, everyone who welcomed us at Taronga, and Ali, Rosie and the Electric Collective crew: thank you for a beautiful afternoon. A lot of work goes into making a day feel that effortless. We were very well looked after.
I came home with plenty of photographs and a few more reasons to keep doing this. There’s a lot I still haven’t seen here. It turns out I can enjoy quite a bit of it if I stop conducting a full internal inquiry before leaving the house. Anyway, apparently I'm going out now.
Please continue to invite me. I’ll have a small crisis while getting dressed, but I’ll come.
Apparently, I go out now. A Maison Balzac launch, Filipino shared plates, my first Sculpture by the Sea and a boat to lunch at Taronga. Sydney keeps making a convincing case, and I keep finding room for dessert.