Flemington Races

It is that time of the year where young girls spend their pocket money to buy Gucci and Miu Miu and boys steal suits out of their father's closet to show off to their mates that they wear Loro Piana. It is a time where there's a REASON to dress up and walk around the city to see-and-be-seen, even though that reason involves four-legged animals being spanked on the butt to run around in a large circle with everybody cheering so that it passes the finish line first.

Then again it must be a good excuse to dress up, noting the number of young girls forcing their way into shoes one size smaller than they can actually bear, and hoofing around like the horses themselves because they have not been trained to walk in heels. Never mind the blisters and the aching toes; it is that time of the year to wear four inches and put Harajuku girls to shame.

For the kids, it is a time to look like little Ms. Britney or little Mr. Elton John. You have to forgive these young minds for thinking that nacre skirts and turquoise sunnies go together with auburn hair accessories that look like feathers plucked out of a poor rooster from the backyard. They know no better.

As for a certain few people from the older generation, it is a time to rekindle one’s marriage (or lack thereof) by pretending that everything is okay even though you know tomorrow he’s calling the lawyers to settle the divorce. It is a time to walk around and smile to everyone you meet in your newly bought clothes, even though you are well past retirement and haven’t repaid the mortgage.

And a select few dress up just because. These people are the happiest of the lot. They are not hard to spot; you can see it in their genuine smiles and faces.

Everybody is dressed up for the races; each wearing their own interpretation of 'beauty' and 'style' though some are more questionable than others. Some 'follow the crowd' by purchasing hats from the race grounds, oblivious to the fact that a hundred other people have the exact same hats like them, while others have custom made and elaborate hairpieces complete with garlands, feathers, ribbons and sparkles to 'stand out'.

A majority of the men are poorly dressed, donning expensive Ralph Lauren ties with cheap suits all looking smug and business-like. I wonder why there is this disparity between men and women; men can't look flamboyant for fear or being called gay, and women can't look simple for fear of being called simple.

And amidst the huge crowd of girlfriends and their boyfriends, parents and children, husbands and wives, friends and their mates, a certain few in the crowd stand out among others, a certain few without a partner or a friend.

They stand alone, not worrying whether they’re missing out on any fun or company; enjoying the environment and the scenery just as much as everybody else.

These are the people who stand out most in the crowd, because you notice them even amongst a hundred other drunk/tipsy young men and women who are busy singing the national anthem backwards after too many VB’s.