subject: When the going gets rich, the rich get shopping [print this page] When the going gets rich, the rich get shopping
Start from Whiteman Street and the first thing to catch your eye could well be the Gianfranco Ferre window boxes with their gorgeous gowns and sexy suits, and just a tasteful sprinkle of sawdust on the shoulder or nestled in the folds of a skirt. So tasteful zentai that you think it could well be some sort of post-modern window-dressing fad were it not for the stray screws at the foot of the (priceless) sheer chiffon thingy printed with tropical fleurs. Clearly this is a work in progress.
Still, it's reassuring to see there's not a shit shoe in sight here. And the tres expensive luggage sitting atop cylinders of cyclone fence speaks volumes of the versatility of a Ferre bag.
Louis Vuitton, meanwhile, is divine, bien sur! Blond wood and impeccable Japanese sales staff, who proved themselves dab spider man costume hands with some ribbon and a bit of crepe paper when it came to gift- wrapping a petit travel journal pour moi (at $56 the cheapest thing in the shop). Melbourne's favorite new malletier (that's trunkmaker, dear) a Paris also offers fabulously gauche belts in electric primaries for an equally electrifying $380.
Next door is Salvatore Ferragamo, shoe stylist to the stars. Sadly for Sal, his shop's about the size of a shoebox and just as comfy. Didn't dare ask the price of the footwear within, but found Alice bands for $70 and a very costume spiderman reasonably priced belt ($260).
Next door again is Tiffany and Co. The name is enough to engender serious shopping cramp in the most hardy, so it's no surprise that your correspondent baulked at entering the shrine itself. With greasy nose pressed to glass, however, it was possible to make out a nifty line in porcelain whatnots, and a couple of necklaces that (by the looks of them) were once chandeliers.
Breathless and giddy after such a peek at prosperity, oneself retired briefly to the Crown atrium and got lost (figuratively speaking) in the sensational sound-and-light show within. The Four Seasons - featuring water, smoke, lights, lasers, music and (still more) chandeliers - has a mesmerising quality, such that the crowd witnessing it is gobsmacked. For the children this display is proof that magic is real. Wizards and fairies zentai bodysuit must have created it. The sad thing is that Daimaru's musical clock isn't a patch on this extravaganza. Let's face it - a couple of cockies and some dinky mechanics are no match for Crown's sensual wonderland. And the Daimaru clock only does it on the hour.
