Bondi Junction Westfield

by mutteringhousewife

My children have unexpectedly taken a shine to tennis camp. It’s a little unbelievable, actually. It’s close, cheap, you don’t have to book. The kids don’t even have to cross a road to get there. So I found myself today, for the second day in a row, unexpectedly child free. Yesterday I did a great deal of washing and made a rather ham fisted attempt at attaching a spring to our side gate. Today I thought, bugger it, I’m going shopping.

Junkies, as my sisters affectionately call it, is always a little closer than I expect, I feel like it should be miles aways. It’s a lavish and complicated mall that I like to go to a couple of times a year, just to see what rich people are wearing this season and what the Eastern Suburbs are up to generally. I can tell you that nose piercings appear to be going mainstream, I saw a number of otherwise conventional looking women sporting them. Some of the piercings looked rather new, or in need of some antiseptic. I was very pleased to spot not one, but two moustaches waxed on the ends, both accompanied by natty little goatees. I saw a young woman teetering along on a spectacularly high pair of bright red platform shoes. I had to hold my arms firmly behind my back to resist the urge to push her over. And quite a lot of very smartly dressed grandmas who had obviously had the kids dumped on them for the holidays, kids in the eastern suburbs use a lot more product in their hair than the scruffy lot around here.

There are many shops in this mall that are fun to wander around, and also some fairly useful ones, unlike the complete waste of time that is my local mall. The useful ones include the Cancer Council shop which I visited to buy myself a white zip up rashie. I had one of these handy items, but I put it on the balcony to dry at our last holiday and it saw its chance and flew away to freedom. I also bought the Horror a long sleeved rashie to replace the current one that has caused a circumference of tan to form around his midriff. They have one of the few Nespresso outlets in Sydney, so I stocked up on Indriya and Livanto. The purchasing method was very odd. You could join the line that went out the door. Or you could present your club card to the lady who looked like an air hostess at the tasting desk out the front and she would take your order. I’m not sure why she couldn’t then just duck into the store and grab your capsules, but she told me the procedure was that I hang on to my receipt for half an hour and come back to collect. Whatever. I had many more sparkly things to look at.

There are all the big designer stores that never ever have anyone in them except the sales girls who all look like over made up praying mantises. I can’t believe anyone can really walk anywhere in Jimmy Choo shoes, I think you’d put them on to pose a bit, then slip back into your ballet flats. I love Metalicus outfits and had a lovely browse in there, but I’ve got enough clothes for the moment. I went to David Jones to look at Bobbi Brown lipsticks. I got one on sale at and shorty afterwards managed to buy exactly the same one again, also on sale. I was sure that there are other colours than Plum Rose, and if I’m going to be wearing lipstick all the time from now on it might as well be a nice one. Isn’t it funny that if you want to buy shoes at David Jones you get treated like a bothersome semitransparent insect, but if you go to the makeup department they seem to have found some humans to staff it? The girl at the Bobbi Brown counter was so nice and helpful that I almost didn’t mind paying over twice the price of, and besides, I’m sure they don’t stock the colour I bought.

Well, that’s my shopping itch scratched, and all in under the two hours they allow you to park there before going for your wallet. Good clean fun and not as scary or discombobulating as Chatswood Westfield. I may have to pay for my jaunt by wearing the ankle boot again tomorrow, but it was all worth it. Besides, I’m seeing the physio on Saturday, she’ll put me back together again. It’s good to have a team of professionals keeping me moving.