The S Guide To Kings X

Sun Herald

Sunday July 13, 2008

Sam De Brito

IT'S the place where you can get a feed, fight or f--k 24 hours a day: Sydney's grand old gal in garters - Kings Cross. We all have a story from the Cross roads, some of them not so fabulous, but at least a quarter of the pretty pictures you see in these social pages each week are snapped there. For something a little different, here's a completely subjective S guide to Kings Cross's better attractions.

The Goldfish Bowl

There are plenty of pubs and clubs here where you'll see a cross-section of Sydney society, from businessmen to bikies, backpackers, wannabe gangsters and cool kids with their model girlfriends. At the Goldfish Bowl, (which is being refurbished so is currently closed - more's the pity) however, you can often see them all at once, bug-eyed, lost in the weeds, sucking scum off the glass after midnight.

Maccas

Next to serving Todd McKenney's table at the Logies, I'm not sure there's a tougher gig in hospitality than working the midnight-to-dawn shift at this establishment. Rumour is that this is where Wayne Cooper polished his diplomacy skills dealing with surly suburbanites, junkies, vomiting teenage girls and pinging drag queens.

The strip shows

You won't see any of these gals at Amy Cooper's Party of the Week, where they'd look positively overdressed. Personally, I'd prefer to watch Leo Sayer undress than some of the sad women here (and Leo wouldn't charge you $10 for a can of VB either).

The streeties

It's often difficult to tell the difference between Fernando Frisoni's collection of fashionistas and the outfits worn by our city's young homeless. However, there's a ton of heartbreaking stories in the Cross and some of the most wrenching are told by the street kids, many of whom are second and third generation substance abusers.

Springfield Mall dealers

If you're ever moved to score a baggie of dope off these chaps, give me a call; I've got a garage full of authentic Balenciaga handbags that are looking for a buyer as well.

The urgers

Strip-club spruikers share many traits with pushy fashion public relations-types, though they're somewhat better at their jobs because these blokes could convince a priest to kick a hole in a stained glass window. However, if they ever get too in your face, avoid saying, "And you kiss your mother with that mouth?" like my mate Dave once did. It ends poorly.

The Wayside Chapel

Some true saints work at this establishment dealing with Sydney's human wreckage, including the incomparable Elma Fleming. Indefatigable, humane, streetwise as Scarface's Tony Montana and completely unflappable, she and pastor Graham Long do more good every day of their lives than all of Sydney's flashy charity balls combined.

Mystique

Brothels and the Cross go hand-in-hand (or hand in lap) and the knocking-shop formerly known as Misty's witnesses more boning than a Channel Nine board meeting. I also hear the working girls like to scan these very pages playing a game called "Spot the Client."

Bloodorange

Who says there's no class in the Cross? On the edge of Elizabeth Bay, this cosy boutique is an oasis of chic and dresses some of Sydney's most tasteful (and tasty) women.

A stink

Aside from the Boxing Day sales at David Jones, there is no easier place in Sydney to find violence than the Cross. I'll turn this over to my mate Hydie, who's had his fair share of fisticuffs up there, his most memorable starting after "a dirty Westie grabbed my girlfriend's bum in The Bourbon".

"It continued out the front, him dancing about proclaiming his karate skills in front of 10 Japanese tourists with video cameras. It ended with him bleeding very heavily on the footpath after one well-timed spear tackle," said Hydie. And people say Sydney doesn't cater to tourists.

The Mandalay Room

Home to Australia's only underwater pole dancing show, this is one of those unique attractions that could lure even your nana into the Mandalay's dank interior. If you grab the stools by the window overlooking the footpath, you'll get more entertainment during one beer than a Foxtel subscription.

The Bourbon

Where's the beef? I don't care what anyone says, they've ruined this once great pub. It used to be a drinking institution, now it looks institutional, like a posh medical centre with beer taps.

The Pie Face sausage rolls

My cousin Bill reliably tells me they put tomato paste through the sausage meat before cooking them.

The result? Better than the finger food at a movie premiere and you don't have to worry about spilling sauce on yourself when Jennifer Hawkins walks past.

The clubs

From the glory days of Les Girls to more recent favourites like the Kardomah and the Cauldron, you've got it all up here with spots like Hugos (otherwise known as Huge Egos), the new Piano Bar (which bears an uncanny resemblance to Tony Montana's loungeroom), Dragonfly and the bewilderingly "exclusive" Tatler. (I don't include the Sapphire Suite on this list because it's not really a club, more a private pick-up party for rugby league players and their cousins from Hurstville.)

Rushcutters Bay Park

On the edge of the Cross, and home to one of Sydney's liveliest gay beats, it's also a popular spot for an afternoon snooze if you've had your drink spiked at a dance party. Can someone get me a taxi!

Sam de Brito is author of The Lost Boys and is a blogger on smh.com.au.

samdebrito@gmail.com

A drink that is made for the Cross

I'M ALL for Prime Minister Kevin Rudd's crackdown on binge-drinking but sometimes you just need a shot that leaves a scar.

Two gentlemen named Vasco and Andrew, one of whom I had the misfortune of meeting in full flight at the Mandalay Room, recently invented the "most potent, expensive shot known to man".

Named the Kaczynski - after the paranoid, murdering Unabomber, Theodore Kaczynski - it requires you to fill one third of a middy glass with Smirnoff Ice Double Black, then drop in a shot glass of absinth.

It costs about $20, tastes like a throat lolly and often leaves you two options - vomit or fall asleep. But it certainly "does the job". A warning, though, from Andrew: "There's a finite number of Kaczynskis you can drink in your life." Don't I know it.

© 2008 Sun Herald

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