Jo Bates finds an unkempt, easy beauty in Australia's famous Bondi neighbourhood.
And we think we've nailed "lifestyle"? Even on a Monday night there's an easy buzz about Bondi, Australia's most famous beach-side neighbourhood. Surfers are strolling home as the last light fades, cossie-clad bums are on seats dining outdoors, still with a dusting of sea and sand. The beachy scene is utterly seductive.
Bondi is not polished and perfect; despite the multimillion-dollar real estate price tags, it still has its slightly unkempt look. You only need to glance at the tatty edges to realise that, yes, developers have had a good go - and will continue to do so - but this iconic beach suburb remains in the hands of the locals, who cherish what they have. It evolves, but it also retains.
Free-spirited, creative, culturally vibrant, there's an authenticity beneath Bondi's bronzed perfection. The promenade and beach provide an endless parade of fascination - the buff bodies, the overheard conversations, the Jewish girls silently sweating as they exercise, covered from wrist to calf in dark, heavy garb.
A community cross-section has been converging here for decades and Bondi's own beach culture has evolved: its unspoken demarcations put the backpackers at the south end, where they busy themselves getting caught in the "backpacker express" (the notorious rip); at the other end are the locals - from families to ripped, bullet-proof bodies - extending to the grassy knoll at North Bondi that the cool kids have claimed, and from where they venture to swim off the rocks.
