A Melbourne-shot adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are has been postponed to be ‘lightened up' but artists have meanwhile banded together to fix Sendak enthusiasts with the wild. MAX GRR! is brought to the Melbourne International Design Festival by an architect, a choreographer and a dancer.
Remember science class in fifth period? Rushing to your desk after snatching a half-price hot food special, and discovering the surprisingly pukeadelic implications of sausage roll and frog intestines.
Think on a larger scale; 245 kilos of squid - only 30 kilos lighter than the largest giant squid ever found - being attacked (presumably with some sort of giant saw) by scientists.
So this is it. The final laundry mat review. Over the last five weeks we've covered the inner west, south, north and east. For the grand finale I wanted to head into the city centre and do something a bit special. The laundry mat review to end all laundry mat reviews. Something that would bring the country to its knees.
Pour café / petite dejeuner: While we French purists have been turning our noses up at Vue de Monde (it's Vue du Monde, Monsieur Bennett), its little Café Vue is parfait - including the spelling. Sidle in with Le Monde under your arm, order a noisette (short macchiato) and a lemon and almond croissant that's richer than the Yves Saint Laurent (RIP) suit drinking his latte to your left.
You don't have to be full of steroids, speak with a moronic drawl, and share your first name with a cartoon cat to do the rock climbing thing. Beneath a section of the Monash Freeway in Richmond hide three walls just off the Main Yarra Trail, which are open to anyone who ever considered telling gravity to ‘go shove it'.
Apparently this laundrette is where all the hookers from St Kilda hang out in the evenings. It's not hard to see why. The furniture is comfortable, there are plenty of magazines scattered around, there's a vending machine on hand and two computer terminals with net access. As far as laundry mats go, it's a very comfortable set-up.
Travelling the MIFF screens is like boarding The Magical School Bus for a history lesson on butt-comfort through the ages.
The Forum's gargoyle-guarded architecture is pant-wettingly grand but - suckishly - their rickety old seats are well known for bruising asses. Meanwhile, at The Capitol, you can ogle the famously mathematical ceiling and walk away hernia-free.
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