Sydney’s weird little shoe caste system
You are now viscerally aware of what shoes you should be wearing, and what you want them to say about who you are.
You are now viscerally aware of what shoes you should be wearing, and what you want them to say about who you are.
It’s crazy, I saw a burglary across the road last week at 10 am, some men in balaclavas just smashed the windows at Cashies, grabbed stuff and ran.
Sydney loves Western Sydney’s food, but we just prefer to have it anywhere but Western Sydney.
When you’re focused on making it through to tomorrow, it’s easy to miss the best stuff coming out of the local underground punk and hardcore scenes.
Men love to believe they run nightlife. The promoter with hair loss from stress, the venue owner with the meth habit, the security guard who refuses to retire. All of them are convinced they’re the authority.
And then I saw someone die really hard. This guy had five minutes. And then he did four minutes of just silence. Just nothing. And then while he’s going off on the audience, one guy in the front just leans back, and then in a moment of silence he just goes, ‘Enough.’
Beyond the fear of being financially burdened, hosts (and guests) are dealing with urban sprawl more than ever before.