As I walked down Flinders Street I contemplated the couple walking in front of me. Let's call them the Mustards, for they were both dressed from neck to knee in a monochromatic mustard-scape.
He was tall and striding along on his sturdy mustardy-tan coloured walking shoes. Moving up was a slightly lighter hue of trouser, secured at his waist with a light brown (mustard?) belt. On his back he wore a shirt, mustard stripes forming checks against a white background. Slung casually over his shoulders was an expensive looking jumper, again, co-ordinating shade of mustard. Above his shoulders hovered his noble head, covered in mustard coloured hair!
Next to him, a woman, wearing a seersucker dress in a mustardy-green check that covered her from shoulder to ankle. Her feet were shod in a mustardy-tan sandal and she completed the ensemble with a quilted bomber jacket in a metallic mustard. Her hair was the same shade as her handbag, which fortunately coordinated with the man's hair.
Having taken in all I could cope with, I decided to pass them. As I looked back, I saw that the man was wearing a moustache. Of course, I don't even need to say what colour it was, but I had discovered his identity. It can only have been Colonel Mustard! I didn't see any evidence of a candlestick, but it could have been a length of rope in his pocket.
As I passed, music came towards me. A small man dressed head to toe in a fluorescent harlequin-patterned Lycra bodysuit was carrying an enormous boom-box on his shoulder and dancing down the street. He was wearing fluorescently framed sunglasses and and huge smile, full of too-white teeth. He made me smile and I could see others happily registering his presence.
Moving onto a tram, two older women ( at least 70 years old, I guess) board the number 8 tram to Toorak at Chapel Street, South Yarra. Those of you who know Melbourne probably have a pretty clear picture of these two women, but I'm sure it's wrong. One of them was wearing a denim skirt with a t-shirt. The t-shirt had a slogan on it: "Crazy shirts. Be original. Be crazy." This could be read in so many ways. Her travelling companion was wearing silver sneakers, coordinating with her glomesh purse.
And there was I, back in Melbourne black. It's been a while because it's been so hot, but I think we struggled to reach 20 degrees Celsius today. Clearly the fickle weather has been playing havoc with people's wardrobe planning. I hope. I don't think anyone was wearing their outfits ironically. Except maybe the guy with the really big i-pod. Kids these days.
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