WHAT I SAW IN AUGUST | Food, Fashion, and Rhythm

WHAT I SAW IN AUGUST | Food, Fashion, and Rhythm

August felt like a month for seeing how things fit together. New openings, first-times, detours, returns, and a few patterns I hadn’t noticed until now.

It began with a preview. Mecca3000 opened its doors ahead of launch and turned Bourke Street into a landmark again. Flowers Vasette in a glass cool room, Lune croissants beside Seven Seeds coffee, art everywhere, Jo Horgan gathering people to the carousel so I could draw. I left with roses, a raspberry madeleine, and the sense that Melbourne had been given something rare, a space that was part store, part gallery, part gathering place.

Adventure Fridays (and Sundays) kept us fed. At Bar Liberty, honey butter on warm focaccia pulled us back to childhood toast, service so seamless it was almost invisible until you noticed how cared for you felt. Cam’s Kiosk glowed in the winter dark, lamps swaying with excitement, “The Riley” citrus-mint cocktail appearing unplanned at the bar, Ramona’s tiramisu arriving with a story about an anthropologist friend. In Yarraville, we pivoted from a closed Tzaki to Bar Romanée on a staff tip and found memorable French cooking, anchovy crisps, brussels sprouts, a jus we wanted to mop up with bread.

The month also held firsts. My first opera, Abduction at the Palais, courtesy of my friend Scott. The foyer buzzing, the crowd a cast in themselves, the performance a modernised Mozart with Aldi ladders and heart-shaped mirrors. By the tram ride home, strangers were leaning in to say “run there to the opera.” I will.

At home, my parents’ gift, Sabre Paris ivory cutlery for eight, has made every meal feel chic. In the bathroom drawer, Charlotte Tilbury’s Pillow Talk lip liner, discovered late at the Mecca Atelier, now in regular rotation. In the wardrobe, a Primary collaboration for The Wardrobe Report, a new lingerie set. On my camera roll, the beginnings of a His & Hers photo diary: toothbrushes, drinks, jumpers, small mirrored moments. On my desk, notes on Chloë Sevigny, her sunglasses, her legs, her shoes and what she carries as an archetype.

By the end of August, I’d documented eleven receipts for Juliet Ate Here. The lesson wasn’t just about food, though Melbourne’s scene is strong, but about rhythm. The places that matter most aren’t necessarily the loudest. They’re the ones that feel right, the ones you’ll go back to for any occasion.

August reminded me that noticing is its own kind of curation. The more I write these down, the more I see what stays, what repeats, what becomes part of the shape of my life.

Here’s to September, more openings, more detours, more patterns to find.