Upfront
FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE
Coat tales BY
Amelia Lester
R
D R E A M D E S T I N AT I O N
Gangtey Lodge BHUTAN
Life slows down at this splendidly isolated lodge, built in 2003 and comprising 12 luxurious suites, each with sweeping views down the valley to Gangtey Monastery. Unwind by simply soaking up these majestic vistas, or join the monks in their early morning prayers and rounds. Alternatively, add to Bhutan’s index of gross national happiness (it’s the only country in the world to have one) by indulging in a hot-stone bath in the lodge’s new spa. Active types will not feel left out, with the surrounding area offering plenty of opportunities for hiking and mountain-biking. Tatyana Leonov
WOLTER PEETERS; ILLUSTRATION BY SIMON LETCH
E AT / D R I N K
ALL GOOD restaurants change their menu with the seasons, but Été – a light-filled, modern French bistro at Barangaroo – goes one step further, changing its interior décor four times a year as well. So when former Quay and Aria chef Drew Bolton’s delicate quail galantine of veal sweetbreads and chicken mousse ($28) disappears from the menu, so will the autumnal art installation that greets you at the entrance. At least they’re keeping the name – French for “summer” – all year long. Jill Dupleix
ÉTÉ TOWER 1, BARANGAROO AVENUE, CITY ETERESTAURANT.COM.AU
ECENTLY, I met a woman who had been trying for six months to throw out an old coat. We met on a tour through a souvenir market in Tokyo. Neither of us had been tempted to buy anything – we didn’t want to add to our clutter – and, surrounded by novelty key rings and other touristic detritus, the subject of the coat came up. It was made of a chocolatecoloured wool, the woman said, and she had bought it in her early 20s with a pay cheque from her first job. That was 40 years ago. She stopped to show me how the coat had reached down to the middle of her calf. It had served her well through some harsh Melbourne winters. “I wore it with a pair of matching slouchy boots,” she said. “It was a very fashionable outfit. But I don’t wear it any more, and I’d like to get rid of it.” So why don’t you, I asked? Surely the local charity shop would welcome such a costly piece which had been kept so carefully. It wasn’t so clear-cut for her, though. Left to languish on its hanger, the coat had lately taken on an accusatory air. “I guess I need to work up to it,” she confessed. “I’ve been slowly talking myself into it. I know that sounds crazy!” It didn’t sound so crazy to me. But then, throwing things out is my favourite thing to do. I don’t claim this rabid lack of sentimentality as a virtue. It’s just that there are simply two types of people in the world: those who store their tax returns in easily retrievable files, and those who don’t, because they accidentally recycled them in a cleaning binge and now need to apologetically call their accountant from two years ago to get another copy for some form which needs filling out. (This is a hypothetical example of a personality type, you understand, not something that recently happened to me.) Also, all the research shows that those of us
who keep fanatically clean desks are at best uncreative and at worst are revealing our latent fascistic tendencies. That said, in support of my fellow thrower-outers, we are this way because we recognise that relationships formed with objects can sometimes – even mostly – turn toxic. Marie Kondo, a Japanese writer describing herself as a “cleaning consultant”, got at this truth in her best-selling 2011 book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, which says that every piece residing in our homes must “spark joy”. If it does not, Kondo decrees, it should be thanked for its service and consigned to the bin.
“Relationships formed with objects can sometimes – even mostly – turn toxic.” Of course, we persist in keeping things for all sorts of reasons which have nothing to do with joy, whether it’s because we paid too much to begin with, it reminds us of a different life chapter, there’s a sentimental value, or the Australian Tax Office says it’s a good idea. We all, in short, have our own version of the chocolate-brown coat. Except maybe the Japanese, who, having successfully tidied their homes, have moved on to a new self-help publishing phenomenon. Even the Stiffest People Can Do the Splits, by an Osaka-based yoga teacher called Eiko, was published last year by Maria Kondo’s publisher, Sunmark. It’s sold more than a million copies in Japan, and Eiko’s “watchably bendy” YouTube videos have been viewed more than seven million times. The book promises that a few minutes of gentle stretching and yoga each day will open your mind, and your thighs. Perhaps its success shows that we’re all still searching for ways to streamline our lives, one way or another. n
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