Farces and fascinators
There's a famous play called An Italian Straw Hat in which a straw hat disappears and creates domino-effect meltdown at a wedding... Can you imagine what would happen if 250 of the things went astray around the time of a major fashion show? Well that, according to my secret sources, is exactly what happened when mega Italian hat brand Borsalino arrived in Melbourne at the start of spring fashion week earlier this month. Borsalino's representatives were in town at the invitation of the marvellous Fashion Incubator, which nearly had to rethink its parade as 250 'tit-for-tats' languored in quarantine thanks to Australian Customs.
Many Australian customs - including the national obsession with burning meat outdoors then eating it - are tiresome; but none can be as knuckle-bitingly annoying as the Customs which requisition Headgear Vital to Fashion in order to examine it for imaginary weevils. Apparently the hats were liberated in the knick of time; thank Gucci, but how ironic that overkill over hidden pests in hats should unfold in the wake of the equine flu outbreak. 'Equine flu'(?) How do newsreaders say those words with a straight face? Really, a more ridiculous animal illness would be hard to find.
True, 'goldfish mumps' and 'gerbil bipolar disorder' sound very ridiculous, but as they're not real they don't count. Anyway, while everyone fussed about the millions being lost to the racing industry, no-one bothered to mention that this was a fashion disaster of giant proportions. You only had to look at those unflattering white body suits donned by the vets to know what I mean. Someone should really tell animal health professionals that style and grooming count for a lot when facing down a dangerous disease.
It would be so much more soothing, surely, for a highly strung roan Arab to be treated by a vet in an ice-pink silk Dolce tie, Zegna suit and Croft shoes than by something resembling a giant boil-in-the-bag frankfurter. Fashionably challenged sanitary suits aside, the horse flu debacle clearly raised a serious threat to those milliners and designers for whom Melbourne Cup is their bread (plus smoked salmon) and butter... not to mention those fillies of the two-legged kind. The poor creatures would have been plotting Fashions on the Field victory for 12 months only to have their hopes dashed by the possibility that the country's greatest fashion - I mean greatest racing - event was in jeopardy.
My advice to Cup organisers in such circumstances would be to plough on, with or without horses. I'm not a gambler but I'd lay odds that even if they'd had to re-run last year's footage at Flemington many punters would not notice the distinct absence of actual hooves on the actual turf as long as the fashion and booze abounded. The odds on girls dislodging their fascinators in the portaloos or going home draped over the wrong man would also be enough to keep the gamblers happy, no?