Sophisticated Goings-On

Press, Volume CVIII, Issue 31681, 17 May 1968, Page 3

Sophisticated Goings-On

(From DAVID BARBER N.Z.P.A. Staff Correspondent.) SYDNEY, May 15. The everyday social life of most Australians comprises a few after-work beers, a week-end session with the neighbours over some ice-cold cans, and womanly teas and gossip between getting the kids off to school and doing the chores.

This is enlivened by an occasional party, with the men

round a keg in the kitchen and the woman sipping sherry with cheese straws in the lounge, a visit to the local ex-servicemen's or Rugby league club, or an anniversary “night out” to an expensive restaurant for steak and eggs and Australian champagne. Kind Society But once a week a tvhole new world of sophisticated goings-on is revealed to every Sydney household by courtesy of the Sunday newspapers, which devote pages to namedropping trivia chronicling the exciting lives of the city’s

middle and upper crusts, and to providing a titillating feast of society peeping tommery. “On the whole, Sydney society is a kind one—not too bitchy—and everyone seems to love each other madly,” readers of one journal - were informed recently by an interior decorator whose weekly page is one of the most delightful (to use his favourite word) examples of this genre. “They also talk a lot —a very great deal—they never stop. This is the fun game. The game was beautifully played last week at a delightful party given by. . . .” And so the stage is set for another saga of delightful parties, swinging barbecues, beautiful weddings and gorgeous receptions to brighten the day of this particular paper's three-quarters of a million readers.

On the next page “Di” says, “Hello, Hello,” hopes her eager readers are standing up to the strain of the party pace, and relates a dizzy whirl of events past and proposed. On the next, “Roundabout” breathlessly brings everyone up to date on the weddings, balls, reunions and charity do’s that Di obviously did not have time to get to. High Spot The high spot of another journal’s weekly glimpse into how the other half lives Is “Man’s Eye View,” written by a ladies’ hairdresser who is obviously as well equipped as an interior decorator to pick up pithy pars from Sydney’s in-set.

“We all had a high old time,” he tells readers about one party, rounding off the guest-list at another with: “The glasses clinked late into the night.” Pride of place in the third journal hurled into front gardens on the Australian Sabbath goes to “My Week”—a diary of the life led by one of Sydney’s best-known charity workers and socialites. Comings and goings, parties and committee meetings are sprinkled with little homilies, an occasional prayer or recipe, and tit-bits of personal life, such as an account of a rare, quiet evening at home during which the writer and her husband fed prawns to their poodles. Fill and Gigi, while the family watched television. Sydney’s society scribbling

is not entirely confined to Sundays. The daily papers run women’s sections on Thursday’s, and fashionablygarbed female newshounds and photographers tour the “in” restaurants at lunchtime the previous day in search of tit-bits of news and illustrations of Prue W. (in bottlegreen corded suit) and Bubbles McD. (bright blue, double-breasted coat dress) lunching at Ye Olde Crusty Taverne.

Consequently, Ye Olde Crusty Taverne, The Bistro and The Weinkeller are deserted by their usual expenseaccount business executive customers on Wednesday and invaded by the misses and matrons hoping to get their names and, if possible, their photographs, in the next morning’s newspapers. One of Sydney’s afternoon papers runs a weekly column by a television and society nonentity who has periodic, highly-publicised face-lifts, seldom misses an opportunity to mention how large is her bust, and traditionally addresses readers as “darlings”. This columnist recently turned In a piece which provides an apt commentary on the inherent value of the social scribes. After attending a diplomatic celebration of Israel’s anniversary, she wrote: “I know I should be ashamed of myself, darlings, but I can’t for the life of me think which anniversary it was, and it was a wonderful night.” She met “that gorgeous" John Gorton at a cocktail party. “Honestly, loves, he is a doll of a man,” she enthused. “We are so lucky to have him as Prime Minister. I could not think of anyone I would rather have to look after our interests at home, or to see as our ambassador abroad. Apart from all that, he is one of the most attractive men I have ever met.” And, apart from all that, there isn’t much else to say about Sydney’s high society and its avid chroniclers.