Which is why I take complete and utter responsibility for the disastrous Saturday morning brunch endured by myself and two friends on the last of these sunny mornings before the chill of winter sets in. Why oh why did I suggest Lygon street?! Their speciality is italian food, not all day breakfasts!

Lygon street after dark....the time to head there!

What started as a way to get fit for us three girls to compete in the Run for kids marathon – meeting at Federation Square on a Saturday morning and participating in a complimentary running group – has since become a way of life….each and every week we meet somewhere throughout Melbourne, run for an hour or so, then head to a close cafe for lattes, breakfast and a chat. Brilliant! We each love it, and we each enjoy the delicious coffees, yummy and healthy meals and browsing the newspapers at leisure. Fitzroy St, Southbank, Degraves Lane, we pick our cafe based on the track we jog around that particular morning, and thus far have had some to die for breakfasts.

This week’s track was Princes Park…close to home, and close to Errol St….a street I live two blocks from and am, to understate, slightly over! So where do I suggest as an alternative? Lygon Street. The street you head to on hot summer nights for a cool refreshing gelati; the street on which groups of girls get accosted by italian men begging you to sit at their restaurant and enjoy complimentary nachos with your wine, so you entice other customers into spending their money there as well; the street where I have had many a romantic date, enjoying master chef worthy main meals, across the table from my latest love. I have not one single memory of ever ever EVER eating breakfast down Lygon St. And now that I have one, I am determined to never ever give this one memory company.

Bubbles in the milk of the ‘so weak its basically hot milk’ coffee; mushrooms not freshly purchased from the market, but hurriedly poured out of a can; spinach with no flavor whatsoever that even generous helpings of salt and pepper could not help rectify….I could go on and on. Needless to say, I will be in future only heading to this part of town once the street lights are turned off, and I am craving a hot filling gnocci, or a fresh bruchetta to accompany my wine. I love you Lygon street, but to be honest my love for you is the same as my love for Italians in general – yes, you excel at some things (ie. soccer)…but there are some things you should just leave alone (ie. womanizing, but that cold be another post!).

And to make matters worst, on the way home we passed a packed cafe promoting their breakfast all day just minutes from home! Ahhhh well….next time!

Essentially, the campaign is promoting a Hidden Pizza restaurant in Fitzroy, where Pizza with flavors such as Margarita, Prawn and Hot Salami are completely and utterly free. The only catch is that wannabee diners must first find the phone number of the Hidden Pizza venue! Only then will you be able to phone in your order and be told where to collect your pizza. There is a Facebook user group and a website but no address and no phone number! People have to use their detective and researching skills!

So what should people do? The official tip for finding the phone number is to go to the most obvious place you would look for one….a product/service that has probably decreased in business since the invention of the internet (and probably more influential on the decline of this companies business would be Google!). Being a PA I picked this up straight away, as it is my job to find answers to random queries all the time and I do consider myself quite good at this – I would feel ditzy if I failed to find this! If anybody, however, is still stuck here is my little clue: Once upon a time somebody was ‘Not Happy Jan’ at not being advertised here!

Be quick though….this campaign is only running until Anzac day!

Even the name sounds funky – joining the likes of Emerald Peacock with a venue name that portrays an old school glamour, you know before even entering Madame Brussels that this place is going to be more than the standard bar or nightclub that are generally found on a night out to play. Named after one of the most successful brothel running Madames in the 1800′s, this venue is all about days gone past, where leisure time was spent outside, watching polo or lounging around on deck chairs, enjoying a nice relaxing hassle free life.

Where else would you enter a venue and walk down a stoned concrete garden path, where if you miss a step you will sink into the lush fake grass? Adorable! The entire venues decor give  off a kitsch theme, with mismatched furniture and random knick-knacks scattered throughout the club. Even the toilet paper holder continues with this fantasy world, a whicker basket that would certainly look more at home in a garden picnic, adding to the sweet nature of the entire venue. I am in love!

I meet my friends in The Parlour and oh my! The perfect place for small groups of friends to sit and chat, relaxing on seventies styled couch settings or, as we did, at the central dining table…with wooden chairs that although looking uncomfortable where extremely pleasant to sit on. Which worked out well as once you settle yourself in The Parlour you really have no reason to move. Personalised table service awaits you my dear. With staff dressed in funky little tennis outfits, and hair curled just so, attending to your every need  this fairy-tale style illusion never stops. I really could get used to this way of life, spending my days as a lady of leisure sipping cocktails in my own Parlour!

With my friends already sipping on martinis there was no chance I would not order a cocktail….it certainly does not take much arm-twisting before I turn to the elegant (but unfortunately more expensive!) choice of drinking cocktails. It is so much more exciting than my normal decision of do I feel like a red or a white? Chocolate, muddled, passionfruit, mixed berries…these are flavors and textures that mean something to me! I ask the waiter for something berry flavored and he flitters off, whipping me up a frothy-fruity flavored concoction which I receive with mixed appreciation…Yes, I love little floating cherries in my drink, but the drink is in a tumbler?  I am sure there is some reason for that but it is still a little disappointing…I want my cocktail to look pretty! It is all part of the illusion. I have tumblers at home, and my kitchen at home certainly does not give off the fantasy world illusion Madame Brussels does! But alas, it tastes delicious so I am a happy girl. Madame Brussels you have certainly won this girl over.

One place that does not spring to mind when a friend throws forward the idea of a Sunday session is Honey Bar in South Melbourne. Granted, I had never been there before, but the name – and location, being in the middle of posh South Melbourne’s Clarendon Street – do not assist in the creation of the perfect place to spend a Sunday. Yes it sounds like the place I would head to for a few after-work drinks on a Friday night, or even the kind of place I would love a first date to take me too so that we could share drinks and a (hopefully!) new found passion for everything each of us brings to the table, but Honey Bar does not sound like the kind of venue where large groups of friends would meet up, debrief on what exactly had happened in last night’s shenanigans, and drink enough beer, wine and cider so that Monday morning would end up much more unpleasant than need be.

So what was it like? Drizzly grey rain, the deafening roar of Schumaker, Webber and Hamilton racing in the F1 Grand Prix around Albert Park, and a fairly empty purse did nothing to put a damper on this place. A friend of a friend has recently taken up Salsa Dancing; and in an effort to drum up new dancers her teachers had organised this day. Intertwining chilled out tunes with some salsa music, where all the salsa dancers would swivel sexily around the dance floor, hair swinging and hips moving in a way I could never imagine mine to, gave the bar a novelty factor that drew people together.

Salsa dancing takes me back to my time in Argentina and Brazil, where my lack of Spanish meant the only thing I could say to the would-be-romeos I would meet out on the town would be ‘Salsa?’ So, yes, I know the seductive and sexy nature of this dance, the way you give in all control to your sexy Lationo partner…unfortunately for me, however, I have attempted this once before since my return from South America. Two minutes of twirling and feeling as sexy as can be, before Wham! I crash to the ground with a dislocated knee that resulted in me visiting the very unfriendly and scary place that is a Hospital Emergency Room, early one Friday morning, and hobbling through the city streets on crutches for the next two weeks. So alas, I am extremely anti-salsa dancing with anybody that was not brought up from birth in a latino, salsa loving family where all family get together’s result in an impromptu salsa dance.

Fortunately for me, I was among extremely good company, the wooden outdoor table settings where covered by large hair-friendly umbrellas and the cocktails were CHEAP! Hello good times! Jugs of Sangria for $15 and Mojito’s for $20…..with five girls this worked out perfect, especially when the very minty mojito managed to leave debris on our pearly whites! Four hours of gossips and giggles, a round each and we all managed to waste away a Sunday afternoon in an extremely relaxing and pleasant state. No flirting and no romance, but who needs that when a group of girl friends entertain you with their hilarious tales of love gone wrong?

xxx