Put the boys in pink shirts and celebrate Brett Lee's latest victory, writes Tony Squires.
Once again, Science Week bumps alluringly into Fashion Week. Once again, calls for a crossover parade of brainiacs in bold new-season lab coats, this year with added zippers and a hint of denim, have been ignored. The Science Fashion Week parade, in conjunction with the Chemistry Made Easy course run by models, will have to wait till next year.
For now, though, I have an invitation to next week's Morrissey show at the fashion fest; I have pants with at least one zipper in them - I'm ready to go.
Happily, Fashion Week kicked off a little early with the launch of Brett Lee's range of clothing. This is Brett Lee the Test cricketer. Brett Lee the fastest bowler in the world. Brett Lee, who has a racing greyhound dog named after him. A dog part-owned by Tony "Plugger" Lockett, who has done ads for that other gentlemen's fashion emporium, Lowes.
And this is Brett Lee, sweet-faced, charming and V groovy in his signature gear. As "groovy" as that word isn't. It doesn't get much groovier than that. Let's face it, this kid doesn't look scary without a cricket ball in his hand and the intention of hurling it down at you at more than 150km/h.
He's desperately in need of a handlebar moustache. He makes Merv Hughes look like Genghis Khan. Sorry ... Merv Hughes does look like Genghis Khan. He makes Bambi look like Genghis Khan. That's better. Maybe a bit overblown ... OK, he makes someone who looks somewhere between Bambi and Merv Hughes look like Genghis Khan. This writing game's easy, isn't it?
The point is, he doesn't look like your old-fashioned tearaway pace bowler. I say as much to former Test bowler Geoff Lawson, who is resplendent in a brown V-neck jumper. He's one of many sporting stars on hand to check the new fashion label. Some have been roped in to do the catwalk-model bit - Michael Slater, Sydney Swan Troy Luff, former Dragons player Nathan Brown, basketball guru Steve Carfino and Shane Lee among them.
"It wouldn't have happened in our day, H," another fast bowler, Wayne Holdsworth, says to Lawson, whose nickname is Henry, shortened to just H, quite obviously. Holdsworth is wearing a deep-blue shirt of impeccable cut, matched with comfortable black slacks. At least, they could have been slacks. I didn't really look. Being a fashion guru is actually quite hard.
On stage, Lee is thanking people who've helped him with his rag-trade aspirations. Like the bloke up the back wearing "a lovely pink shirt".
"When was the last time you heard a fast bowler say that sentence, H?" I ask Lawson, rushing straight into the first-letter stage of our relationship.
"I don't know," he comes back. "You might say it to a batsman you're bowling at." Ah ... fashion as a sledging tool.
Anyway, on stage Tara Moss is interviewing Bing (Lee's nickname) and the models. This is an idea that must immediately be taken up by the organisers of Australian Fashion Week. Make 'em walk and talk at the same time.
Lee likes zippers. Some of the pants have them down the front of the thigh. I'm saying nothing. Michael Slater's coat has a two-way zipper so you can have a go from either end if you're in a frenzy to get the thing off. Nathan Brown is wearing a shirt in a colour that Brett describes as "sort of crushed grapey kind of". That's the official colour in the catalogue.
The clothes are very cool. Not that I'd know. As we speak I am wearing a flannelette shirt, tracky-dacks and slippers. And I've been to the shops this morning. The three-quarter-sleeve T-shirts look brilliant. I'm not sure if they just look brilliant on men who spend their days playing sport for Australia or if the more Homeresque among us could squeeze into one.
So, feeling sufficiently bitter and twisted at Brett Lee's deserved burgeoning success story, your correspondent sought comfort in wine and sad songs, a combination of which was on offer at The Basement. If ever musical director Jamie Rigg and singers Danielle Gaha and Darren Paul have another night of Burt Bacharach songs, you'd be preposterously stupid not to be there.
Lock me in a kettle drum, roll me over the falls to the warm sound of a flugelhorn solo and call me a wet wuss, but I'm sticking Burt in the pantheon of the musical greats. Way past Patrick Hernandez. The man's a genius. As is Elvis Costello, whose songs with Burt from the Painted From Memory album were given treatment by Darren Paul as wonderful as that offered by Gaha for the bulk of the night.
You have to be a bit brave to do Bacharach. It's not as if his songs haven't been sung by the greats. It's not like you're trying to out-sing John Denver. Danielle made the songs her own -songs that have been lived in by some of the most famous voices. Gee, she's good.
Danielle was wearing a blue dress with shoestring straps, some lovely beading and gorgeous lacy bits ... sorry, this fashion stuff's addictive.