Edition 1
On my mind this week:
It began in the depths of lockdown last year and as Melbourne has entered another shutdown it has again reared it’s mid 2000s, 20-something head. I have come down with a bad case of nostalgia. Not original but true.
I feel excessively sentimental for public transport or as I like to call it ‘longing for the faintest scent of BO, crackly, inaudible announcements and scratchy seat fabric'. I strangely miss the unsaid etiquette of where to sit. The unspoken locking of eyes when you take your bag off the seat to make way for another commuting stranger.
I miss the coldness of the carriage poles and the awkwardness of holding onto a handle overhead to stop yourself from falling on a really crowded train. I once did this while drinking a takeaway coffee and accidentally tipped it all over someone's shiny, shiny black work shoes. I then flailed about trying to mop it up while the coffee kept spreading through the VERY crowded carriage. The liquid rolled from person to person as I watched in horror as people tried to keep up their 'polite public transport faces' while also sidestepping dripping brown liquid. The agony was finally too much so I announced to the carriage a very loud SORRY! while scurrying out at the next indeterminate stop, hunched over in a heady perfume of shame and latte. I would now genuinely relive this if it meant riding the train mask and fear free.
I can remember vividly standing on the platform of a suburb I’d never been to, blinking slowly in the sun.Once on a train a woman sat in front of me in a bright yellow singlet dress overlaid with a kind of glorious see-through netting. The look was strategic, elaborate makeup, quiffed hair, doc martins, her ears clearly curated by someone who understands the perfect sleeper to stud ratio. In what I thought may have been intentional but over the course of the train ride became increasingly sure was a total error, one of her boobs had slipped free from her singlet top and was just out there for all to see. She hadn't noticed because of the net overlay but very soon I witnessed the carriage begin to see it. Eyes kept shifting across furtively and then looking away again with that very polite public transport blank face that can really only be broken if aliens land in the carriage. Thoughts racing I began mulling over my options. Should I lean over and tell her? What if it IS intentional and then she's insulted? Do I tell her now knowing we probably have another 30 minutes of train ride to go and then she has to sit there knowing the whole carriage has seen her nipple? I began to panic and sweat also knowing that the longer I wait to tell her the longer she will know I sat their knowing. In the end we pulled up at Flinders Street Station and I saw the crowded platform ahead of her and thought fuck it I would want to know so I leaned across and said 'Hi I'm Claire' (thinking if you’re gonna tell someone their boob is out you definitely need to introduce yourself. Less creepy) 'um I don't know how to say this but your boob is...' and then I trailed off because for whatever reason saying your boob to a total stranger felt immediately mortifying. My yellow clad pal looked down, her face turning red as she hurriedly wrenched the errant boob back in place. ‘Thank you so much’ she managed with a smile that said I’m mortified but thank god you told me as the carriage came to a stop and we both disembarked. For a brief second our eyes locked and I felt instantly that I had done the right thing. Sisterhood with a stranger. One thought I did have though – I grew up in a family where manners were everything – did I do it right?After all no one gives you a lesson in boob on train etiquette.
Other things I miss in no particular order.
Staring moodily out the window watching graffitied buildings flash past.
Walking from the station, fumbling for my ticket to exit the gates, the familiar flicker of fear that it won't validate
Pulling the chord for the next stop, slightly panicking if ticket inspectors approach, resting my face against the cool glass of the window.
The very specific joy of the perfect public transport song. The one that when the opening bars start you feel like you are suddenly starring in your very own Nora Ephron novel, the people walking past on the train platforms adding background colour and texture to the deep, philosophical feelings you always knew you had about your place in the order of things.
Public transport nostalgia is one thing but when you distill it down to it’s parts what I really miss is the in between bits of life, the bits where you are suspended in the primordial soup of strangers on their way somewhere. A little spot where you can think and day dream and listen to the perfect song. A brief window where time is your own, possibilities are unlimited and you can spill your coffee or help out a stranger without wearing fear, sanitiser or a mask.
Something to listen to:
On public transport (or in the car or pretending from your couch in lockdown): The entire Garden State soundtrack (remember that movie with Zach Braff and Natalie Portman) but especially In The Waiting Line by Zero 7 and One Of These Things First by Nick Drake.
For kitchen dancing… Real Love Baby by Father John Misty I discovered this song again from a terrifying movie I watched this week called The Rental. Alison Brie’s character slow dances solo to this song high and up until just after this bit of the film I really enjoyed it. Don’t watch if you plan to rent an Airbnb soon but nonetheless I can recommend it as a fun, horror movie if such things actually are a thing.
And as always my recommendations podcast Suggestible with the perpetually cynical James Clement (who also happens to be my husband man) is released every Thursday.
Something to watch:
Bump – a Stan Original show from the creators of one of my favourite Australian TV series Love my way (warning it will absolutely break your heart but it is just perfection). Bump is just as good as LMW with a fresh, funny, insightful heart and a lot of women on the writing team meaning the female characters are complex, flawed and articulate. It deals exceptionally well with new motherhood and there are scenes in this that I feel haven’t been done before especially the sex scene involving breastmilk which is shockingly delightful, affirming and not at all what you would expect. Side note: Mia Freedman on No Filter interviews Claudia Karvan this week who stars in and produces Bump. Great nostalgic chat.
Something to eat:
A one pot wonder that will save you endlessly. It takes an hour (bear this in mind) but as it has almost no washing up, lots of left over potential and very little prep time I promise you it’s worth the wait. Adapted from Heidie Sze’s roast chicken and vegetables:
Line a fairly deep oven tray with baking paper and preheat the oven to 180 degrees Celsius (or 356 F).
Pop 4 boneless chicken thighs (one per person) skin side down and open on the tray.
Arrange peeled, chopped sweet potato, potatoes and cherry tomatoes. Or any leftover veg you have in your crisper.
Drizzle with olive oil, salt and pepper and a sprinkle of oregano.
Roast at 180 degrees for one hour.
Serve with baby spinach or steamed greens. Easy, comforting bowl food to be eaten raucously on the couch if necessary.
Hint: Make double and then portion out for lunches.
Something to buy:
This tiered cotton dress from French Connection. As an apple shape (made all the more obvious from having a bub recently) I really struggle to find dresses that I feel good in, are of a breathable fabric that don’t end up just being a tent with no waistline or frumpy with that empire style waistband right up under your boobs. This dress has been a life saver this Summer. I bought it in the Summer White and the Navy too which I’m not sure is still available. It is perfection worn with slides or runners but can be quickly dressed up with a pair of heels or a few statement bits of jewellery. Not too short but short enough to show off a bit of leg (like most apples my legs always scrub up alright don’t you worry about that pal), a lovely easy neckline and no sunburn insight with covered shoulders. Done and dusted! Ps. One draw back is that there are no pockets. Why I ask you in 2021 should a gal not get pockets in everything? Still love it though. I bought it in the size 14 (French connection you need to get a bigger size range ASAP however if this is your bag highly recommend).
That’s it from me for this week.
Sending you a lot of love out there it’s a weird time. I’m practising being kind to myself as I often find there’s a voice in my brain box being a REAL arsehole. Nobody needs that on a regular basis. Thought you might need a reminder in case you’re also walking around with a critical as F, task master who is always telling you you're not enough and not to give things a burl. Tonts is here to say you bloody well should give things a go and you are a legend just as you are.
I’ll leave you with this. When Chanel Miller (author, artist and sexual assault survivor) was interviewed by Oprah about her book Say My Name, at the end Oprah gave her a squeeze and some advice. She said ‘keep your strength’. Not that old trope ‘be strong’ but be who you already are, hold onto it, protect it. I’ve put those words into my brain’s file entitled ‘and don’t you bloody well forget it’. I wish that for you too. Keep your strength, steady as she goes, be who you already are and dance in your kitchen to Real Love Baby.
‘Til next week. Love Tonts x
ps. If you'd like to hear from me weeklyish I'd love you to stick around. Enjoy this nostalgia walk of Zero 7 Destiny with Sia and Sophie Barker Live
