Dressing on the Side
While food and fashion may have a rocky relationship, the two are united in three Melbourne ventures.
There’s a delicious thrill of the forbidden when walking into Verve, a funky, split-level cafe and fashion boutique in chic Little Collins Street. It’s a frisson that has little to do with retail therapy’s guilty excitements: it’s the display of mouth-watering cakes and sandwiches within sticky-hands-reach of expensive designer wares that’s the cause.
Conduct a quick word association poll on the subject of food, and fashion isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. No surprises there. Though rake-thin catwalk models profess to eat nothing but chocolate cake and hamburgers, most of us find such admissions a little hard to swallow. And then there are the memories of childhood: the harsh, hand-written signs on shop doors forbidding entrance of food and drinks, leaving you to choose between a jam doughnut and a new party outfit.
After such intense societal conditioning, it’s not surprising there’s a thrill attached to seeing food and fashion collide.
So, where’s the catch? Are we being tempted with morning tea in order that oily fingermarks on fabrics will lift profit margins in a retail culture that impels us to pay for damaged goods? In Verve, the backs of chairs brush the hems of neatly hung clothing, but co-owner Goran Jevic laughs off the conspiracy theories. “We’ve never had a mishap,” he says.
The sceptic in me remains unconvinced by the food-fashion fad. Blame the sudden proliferation of car showroom cafes, laundromat eateries, garden nursery grub holes and book-and-biscuit shopfronts; suddenly it seems the only place food isn’t served at is a restaurant. That such experiments often come at the expense of food standards is a concern. But apparently such worry over quality is needless. Well, according to Jevic, anyway.
“Melbourne people know their food and their coffee and there are so many places to go that the novelty may attract them, but if you don’t keep up the quality of the food, they won’t come,” he says. “The two sides of the shop feed off each other because customers come in to look at clothes and have a coffee and a piece of cake, and it works the other way. On Saturdays, you will get women shopping and their men come in here and say ‘thank God for this’ and have a coffee and read the paper while their partners try on clothes.”
But while food stains on silk shirts may not be a concern, food smells most definitely are. In the small confines of Verve, garlic is a definite no-no and much preparation is done off the premises as a concession to limited space. Similar steps are taken at Husk, another of Melbourne’s well-known clothing/cafe entities. Again at Husk, the fare is relatively simple - focaccias, soups, salads and cakes - to tempt those unaffected by the everywoman worries of fitting clothing around bulging tummies.
Husk founder Justin Abrahams explains the junction of food and fashion as a product of “broadening retail perceptual parameters”. Translated, that means pretty well anything goes, provided it fits a brand’s broader “concept”.
So, high-end coffee in luxury car showrooms? Bubble and squeak down at your local laundromat? “So as long as you fit within that clear vision of what you have, you can’t go too far wrong,” says Abrahams. “It’s when you go with hamburgers and Armani suits there’s a problem - it’s gotta fit.”
It’s a theory Sarti manager Andrea Browne subscribes to. The restaurant/tailor space in Russell Place combines old-style Italian made-to-measure tailoring with rustic, Italian-influenced European cuisine. The large studio space definitely has the feel of old Italy, with the whirr of the sewing machine in the background and the heady smell of fresh herbs and cooked breads emanating from the kitchen.
“If we were a retro cafe, that might put off a few of the businessmen wanting tailored suits,” Browne says wryly. “I think, now especially, times haves changed. During a working lunch, it makes sense to combine two of the basic commodities people need - food and clothing - so they can save time.”
Commodities, retail parameters, daily practicalities - it’s a long way from the basic premise as food for pleasure and pleasure only. Breakfast and a car wash, lunch and a skirt suit and a little dinner while you watch the clothes spin dry. It’s nice to know that in today’s modern world, you really can do it all. But for me? Call me old-fashioned, but the appeal of lingering over drinks and coffees without the buzz of changeroom clatter and cash-register rings still holds strong.
So, I’m going for lunch, and maybe a brief shop for those new winter boots. Separately. This could take a while.