Baking, dancing, riding, not all at once

So we went to the Williamstown ‘The Way We Wear’ fair on Saturday, which was a great chance to show visiting Canadian swing-nut Dave around Melbourne’s west side at the same time.

The boys were mildly disappointed at the lack of menswear available, but us ladies were buying up a storm. I believe the fair was advertised as 40s-focused, but there were smatterings of mod 60s too. I came away with a cropped cashmere shrug and 1930s brown striped waistcoat, while another dancer I bumped into had her bags full of vintage patterns, elbow-length gloves etc.

You have to be quick, despite the abundance of wares; I was about 2 seconds short on a gorgeous leopard-print coat.

There’s nothing more embarrassing than being seen looming vulture-like by the side for someone to finish trying on a much-coveted item of clothing so that you can try it on too, only to watch her stroll excitedly up to the counter to whisk it away under your nose.

Her infectious “I found my dream coat!” grin made it worthwhile though, and she did look absolutely stunning in it. I saw her periodically through the rest of the morning, gently playing with the coat in its paper bag with a whimsical smile as she strolled amid racks and display tables.

But I was told afterwards that they bring out new and different stock every few hours anyway, so if I had hung around a little longer, another one would’ve appeared. Maybe the menswear would’ve sprung up as well if we came back the next day…

No hang on, there is one thing more embarrassing then lusting openly after an inanimate object. If you saw a mad pair up on stage at about 12pm spontaneously dancing to ‘In The Mood’, I apologise in advance for the dag-factor.

It started with Dave, who cracked out ‘Sing Sing Sing’ on his mobile, inspiring a frenzied, introverted solo charleston session. One of the fair organisers walked by, saw us and chucked Glenn Miller on the system. Dave scrambled up on stage, turned back towards me with a wink and a grin, one arm outstretched, and that was that. I forget how long that damn song can be!

Was well worth the entry fee anyway, if at least to get the contact details of the business owners there for future purchases. And live out my swing performance troupe fantasies.