Floriade 2022: Canberra’s Paris Fashion Week for Flowers

It’s that time of year again — when an epic public event in Canberra bursts into bloom and turns garden beds into catwalks. Floriade 2022 is here. Think Paris Fashion Week, but for flowers. And yes, the tulips are absolutely serving looks.

Canberra’s iconic spring flower show transforms the city’s lake centre into a month-long spectacle each September and October, with millions of blooms on display. Locals emerge from their winter hibernation, while tourists descend en masse to witness this blooming runway of seasonal trends - from classic tulips to fringe florals making their debut.

I arrive on a grey Saturday afternoon, but the overcast skies do nothing to dull the brightness ahead. The flowers are ready to smell, and so are the cheerful volunteers, doubling as walking info kiosks. There's no official sign declaring it, but the unspoken rule is clear: take photos — lots of them.

Right at the gate, tulips are perched in tough steel wheelbarrows — proving once again that they’re the supermodels of the flower world. As the saying goes, tulips would look good even in a garbage bag. No blue sky required — their joy shines through on any canvas.

The star of the show? Tulips -  the Dior of the flora world. They're everywhere: popping from bunches, bursting from beds, overflowing from wheelbarrows, and printed on every kind of Floriade merchandise imaginable. Around them, a pretty supporting cast of pansies, poppies, hyacinths, and daisies bring depth and colour to the ensemble.

I make a pit stop at a cute teal-and-white café caravan, grabbing a coffee and sitting under giant black-and-white striped umbrellas. The soundtrack? What I assume is Australian country music — foot-tappingly good. From my seat, I catch a view of a tulip-lined walkway that doubles as a runway between the garden beds.

The flowers are the models, the garden beds their catwalk, and the red gravel paths their red carpet. Who needs Paris when you have this?

And this runway is busy. A woman sprints back to her tripod to snap a photo without herself in it. A family of ten poses in full colour-coordination (or lack thereof — bright seems to be the unspoken dress code). Teenagers take selfies. Adults take selfies. If dogs were allowed in, they’d be strutting through the beds snapping selfies too.

Instagrammers and fine art photographers alike lean in close for the perfect shot. First, a macro of a bloom. Then one with the Ferris wheel in the background. Then again, from another angle. Click. Adjust. Repeat. One child gets too close and is swiftly intercepted by a parent delivering a full-scale botanical lecture.

There isn’t an angle or lighting condition left unexplored. I can’t help but wonder how many of these already-striking flowers will be digitally altered before their Instagram debut. A little more contrast, a touch more saturation — as if nature needs filters. But hey, if it helps the local tourism industry, who am I to judge?

And while all this happens in Canberra, across the globe at Paris Fashion Week, Victoria Beckham drops her Spring 2022 Ready-to-Wear collection. Coincidence, or is there a whisper of Canberra tulip-core in her palette?

Because colour sells, and tulips know it.

Even cowboys watch the setting Hawaiian sun

It’s sunset on the world-famous Waikiki beach. Is it Monday, or a Thursday, I don’t know. Out on a concrete jetty, local teens are gathered in large groups down the end before individually flinging themselves off the seawall into the ocean below into a giant swell or as it breaks on the rock wall. 

Like the activities of teens anywhere in the world, the practice looks relatively unsafe. Their friends help them clamour up the wooden planks on the seawall so they can do it again.

A blue sign with white writing lists the beach rules. No boozing, no tents, no annoying tourist behaviour, that sort of thing. 

There is a preacher across the road preaching, reading from the Bible. He is being drowned out by the crashing of the surf on the shore and against the sea wall. This week is a super full moon which comes with very prominent tides and swells.

Up on the beach, a young man in mirrored sunglasses and orange swimming shorts jumps onto his tattered red hammock that is perfectly roped between two robust palm trees. Like a cowboy jumping on the back of his mount, he is ready to ride off into the sunset. He has no spurs but there is a pair of sandals neatly placed at the base of one of the trees. He kicks the ground to send the hammock into a low swing. The trade winds will keep it going. Did I mention he is wearing a black cowboy hat?

It’s windy tonight and sea breezes are already working the beach. The persuasive palm trees along this stretch of sand dutifully sway for all the hammocked cowboys and the tourists, their soulful influence mesmerising all beach comers and beachcombers. Their coconuts heavily fortified to avoid any accidents that would make a tourist’s stay in Waikiki even more unforgettable.

It may well be a controlled psychological effect, but I hear a gentle melodic ukulele everywhere I go in Waikiki, or it might be the ukulele shops I have spotted along the strip that sell the popular Hawaiian musical instrument.

On the jetty a trio of teenagers from Oahu are filming for their YouTube channel. That morning they decided to ask strangers to give them money for completing challenges as requested by the strangers for payment, so they could earn enough money for airfares to neighbouring Maui the next day. They are dripping wet, as they have each just jumped off the jetty for USD$5 each. They are USD$40 short of their target when I ask them.

There are all sorts on the beach – some wrapped up in their own romantic love story, oblivious to other tourists, some sitting alone, some with others, some chatting, some sitting together quietly. The fading blue hues change to yellows and pinks as the sun plays hide and seek behind low clouds and all heads turn its way. It’s strange when you think that all healthy eyesight advice tells you not to look at the sun and then you hit a certain time of the day where you are encouraged to look at the beautification of the sun while it disappears.

The sun is playing peek-a-boo now, challenging the photo taking capabilities of hundreds of iPhone users on the beach. There are tourists watching from their balconies right along the strip. Lots of selfies, lots of photos. 

As the sun peeps out for its final decline, many a tourist’s hands reach up to pretend to embrace or cup the sun in the palm for photos, like a giant interpretative sun dance. And then it is gone and many leave the beach for other activities, and the Maui trio walk off and head into Subway. They will all likely be back tomorrow.

Coles and IKEA recruiting through creative promotions

I have gotten into the spirit of ‘consumerism through children’ with the latest of Australian retailer, Coles', collectable series, which is promoting its new Harry Potter range. 

The Coles Magical Builders are cardboard cut-outs of all the characters from the Harry Potter and the Fantastic Beasts cashcow empires, with the catch (for grown-ups) is you have to assemble them yourself. They come separately swathed in tiny tough cardboard flatpacks with instructions for their assembly on a tiny piece of paper. It’s like miniature IKEA. The instructions are impossible to see and also not terribly helpful but I am also impressed that they produce so little paper wastage.

With a resolve to demonstrate that I have the dexterity and cognitive function of a six year old, I decided to put one together. As it turns out, only tiny fingers can pop out the tiny cardboard fragments of arms and legs and owl wings and wizard beards. 

As ever with activities that are designed for children, I generally require child supervision to work out how to troubleshoot, but not on this occasion! I stabbed those diminutive suckers out using a sharp kitchen knife.

I’m guessing Coles aren’t considering my requirements in their customer base. Speaking of IKEA and companies that know their base, the Swedish megabrand have recently put “career instructions” inside their IKEA products that are labelled “how to assemble your furniture” in a push to recruit people who use IKEA products, which resulted in thousands of applicants and a whole bunch of people were hired who liked and used IKEA products. Hire your brand’s current customers and ambassadors  – good idea. What would also be a good idea would be to put in these boxes ‘how to actually assemble your furniture – like, some actual instructions”. Anyway.

So perhaps, with that in mind, and with the ol’ tradie shortage around areas of Australia that aren’t currently undertaking emergency disaster restorations, Coles perhaps should be looking for future tradies and engineers through this current tiny cardboard promotion. 

If you can assemble the tiny Ron Weasley character without the instructions (or even with the instructions) and you’re only seven, of if can assemble it to put Dumbledore’s head on his knees (but deliberately), then you have just won yourself a fast-tracked carpentry career. Very fast-tracked. Faster than a speeding Japanese superman bullet train. Anyway, there’s some foods for your thoughts, Coles. 

Cinema advertising and the leading genres in movie blockbusters

If you spend a while in the foyer of a major cinema you’ll notice that the movie-making industry really applies itself to the cause of persuading you to buy things, and its efforts are quite productive. 

The ice creamery promotes peace, love and ice cream, with a deeply held predilection that you just buy the ice cream. I feel the need, the need to buy ice cream (an artistic depiction of an iconic Top Gun quote for the two people in the world who may have not seen the cult classic).

The good old fashioned games machines work the room entertaining young children as they contest game after game. People are buying popcorn in ten litre buckets overpowered with butter on the inside and movie marketing on the outside. Even the cinema advertiser advertises itself on a wall monitor. It’s the hustle. 

Some patrons stand back, deep in group negotiations, staring at the electronic boards assessing movies times, personal schedules, movie lengths. They are doing maths. Maths is hard and fraught with danger and should be rewarded with popcorn. Cinemas know this. Two people bolt through the foyer with popcorn. They are late for the start of their movie, but they at least have popcorn, and considerable balance and coordination.

And then the foyer falls quiet. Quiet enough for a moment to hear distant reverberations from cinematic enthusiasm and you can feel the aftershocks through the floor if you are close enough to the action. A cinema foyer is an entertainment gateway and an advertiser's dream.

A movie has finished! Patrons trickle out, gesturing with vast hand movements and excitedly recreating and refashioning portions of the movie script. It undoubtedly was Top Gun: Maverick. Someone alert Tom Cruise; the fans have gone wild. Don’t worry – I think he knows.

His movie has just clocked over USD$1.1 billion of box office sales. It currently sits at the 29th highest grossing film of all time, but likely to crawl higher up that list. Since opening globally in May/June this year, his movie has 51% share of the U.S domestic and worldwide markets, which means folks are heading out in droves to see Tom and his planes.

I feel the need, the need to see this movie.

In movie blockbuster terms, you could reason that  the action genre (encapsulating tales of utter and colossal disaster and Thor) would hold supreme, with the highest gross film of all time (Avatar), the Jurassic series, the Avengers and all manner of other super heroes and now Top Gun in its stables. But this isn’t the case. 

 

Market share for movie genres from 1995-2022 shows that adventure has actually been the number one genre, followed by action, drama  and comedy.

The adventure genre is heavily dominated by distributors Walt Disney and 20^th Century Fox, who are both unrelenting in exploiting their legendary cash cows that include Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Spider-Man, Hunger Games, Toy Story, Pirates of the Carribean. 

However, at the mid mark of the 2022, it is indeed the action genre (57% of market share) that is leading the pack in blockbusters, with adventure (19%) straggling in its wake. Maybe it’s more Covid-19 fallout, with less adventure movies being made during the last few years. 

Alas, for your noting, if you are thinking of directing an educational movie, please know it traditionally earns 0% market share. Maybe lob some fighter planes in there and email Mark Ruffalo to see if he’s available for a cameo.

Bath in Somerset - rubber duck not included

Bath, Somerset, England.
An ancient city dressed in honey-coloured Georgian elegance, steeped in Roman history, and proudly listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It’s the sort of place where the past isn’t just preserved—it’s parked on every street corner like a politely stationary time machine.

Hop-on-hop-off tourist buses weave through the city, and if you find yourself on the open-air top deck during a downpour, you’ll notice something delightfully practical: plug holes. Yes, real drains to stop rainwater from pooling like—well, like a bath.

I’m fairly certain all open-top buses have them, but the quiet delight of noticing this in a city literally named Bath felt like the sort of accidental poetry that stays with you. Sadly, no rubber duck floated by.

Before you even arrive in Bath, you must pass through Somerset, the county that surrounds it. It's comprehensively lovely—quintessentially English in the way postcards promise. 

Picture rolling green hills, a lattice of hedgerows, and vast pastures. People have been calling this area home since the Paleolithic era (think Fred Flintstone), followed by the Celts, Romans, and Anglo-Saxons—each leaving a footprint in the soil or stone.

A short hop away, Cheddar Gorge offers not just stunning scenery but serious archaeological cred. It’s home to Cheddar Man, the UK’s oldest complete human skeleton, dating back to 7,150 B.C. (No, not made of cheese, in case that crossed your mind). 

Meanwhile, Glastonbury—home to the famously muddy music festival—sits on what’s known as a "dry point," meaning it's one of the few flood-free bits of ground in the area. Irony noted.

Back in Bath, the Royal Crescent stands as one of the finest examples of Georgian architecture in the country—a graceful arc of 30 terraced houses, all uniform yet grand, and listed as Grade I, which in UK terms means: do not mess with it.

Across town, the Roman Baths offer a glimpse into ancient spa culture. In Roman times, a day wasn’t complete without a good steam, a communal soak, and perhaps a bit of philosophising about empire over hot water. It was muscle recovery meets mindfulness—a wellness trend about two millennia ahead of its time.

The city’s spa tradition hasn’t gone cold. In 2021, Bath was added to the UNESCO list of Great Spa Towns of Europe, celebrated for their natural mineral springs. One wonders about the modern infrastructure behind it all—filtration systems, maintenance budgets, the quiet toil of keeping ancient rituals hygienic.

Also worth noting: Uranus was discovered here. Yes, really. In 1781, local resident William Herschel spotted the planet from his backyard using a homemade telescope. It remains one of the more awkward astronomical announcements in history, but his Georgian house now serves as a museum, so everyone wins in the end.

Bath is a short train ride from London, but don’t make the mistake of trying to squeeze it into a day trip. There’s far too much to soak in.

 

Harrods - and that time they sold lions

Today the writing challenge is heading to one of the most celebrated department stores in the world, Harrods of London. It might not strictly meet the brief of places of historical significance, and I appreciate any concern you might have on the matter, and any confusion or inconvenience caused, but Harrods has a long history. And it’s my blog. Also, disclaimer, Harrods is absolutely my favourite. 

In term of shopping centres, it doesn’t get any more exclusive that Harrods, which has voted itself the “world’s most famous department store”, and who can disagree with the GOAT. 

The largest department store in Europe, it is the land of opulence and luxury, lavishness and magnificence, with more than 300 in-house departments in store, and 100,000m2 of fancy handbags, Prada gold clubs and all of the other fabulousness they stock on their shelves. They probably don’t call them shelves; that is too…..Sainsburys. They probably call then product royal mantels, or something. 

Harrods came from modest little beginnings, as everything must do at some point. In 1832, a wee London East End grocery store was established and named after its owner, Mr Harrod. Mr Harrod developed a business portfolio and had some stores about town, that sold various items for which Harrods is now synonymous, but on a much less grander scale. 

The site on which Harrods stands now became a key asset for Mr Harrod and sold perfumes, stationary, medicines and fruit and vegetables. It was not unusual to bump into Sigmund Freud or Oscar Wilde at the checkouts, with Freud psychoanalysing your shopping basket and determining that your Id is well and truly in charge of your grocery list.

Harrods was first to introduce an escalator, because you can’t have Mr Freud wasting all his thought time trying to negotiate stairs when he’s busy psychoanalysing customers. Speaking of psychotic, in the early days, Harrods used to also sell cocaine. In 1916, it used to sell a kit containing cocaine, morphine, syringes and needles, as a present to send to friends on the front in the war. 

And at one point, the store used live snakes to guard expensive jewellery and also introduced the selling of exotic animals including panthers, alligators and lions. Which is awful and extremely random but also so very Edwardian era. In more uplifting news, Harrods has a chip shop in its food and beverage enclave. 

It also has a fabulous souvenir gift store. I own one of Harrods signature items, a shiny olive green tote bag that they sell to the innumerable tourists who pass through the checkouts. I also own a grey one. I’m a sucker for this sort of stuff and have never met a London souvenir that I have not fell instantly in love with in a very serious way. I’ve got three pens that look like the London Buckingham Palace guards, and you press their fur hat to click the pen open. Adorable.

And here’s a cool thing. The new head honcho pastry chef at Harrods is an Aussie. Philip Khoury started working there in 2018 and in December 2021 he was appointed the boss of all things sweet tooth. What a gig! 

In this time, he has begun pioneering plant-based dessert, which he calls the “last frontier” of vegan cuisine, rethinking the traditional eggs and dairy based model as the holy grail of exceptional desserts. Apparently kicking out dairy from the recipe allows other flavours to pop. 

This is interesting, as the global plant-based food market is expected to reach $USD70 million in the next five years, and certainly is projected to double in the UK in that time. Presumably this is a calculated move by Harrods to play in the USD$7 billion plant-based food market (up from USD$5.5 billion in 2019) as consumers are more and more aware around issues relating to food sustainability and nutrition of the products they are consuming. And with up to 300,000 customers a day at its peak, Harrods has an influential role to play.

And if you are lucky enough to visit the beautiful, gargantuan money spinner that is Harrods, and need somewhere to park the Ferrari or the Vauxhall Astra, there is a single carpark nearby that you can buy for a cool £85,000, which is ostensibly about £84,995 more expensive than other parks in the area. 

It comes with a fob, CCTV, a water supply (unclear if they mean a tap, or an Agean Sea type body of water), and a 960 year lease. Yeah, I give the Ferrari engine three months before it blows, let alone 960 years. Or you can just take the Tube like the rest of London.

Egypt - and the big pyramid scheme

Today in my writing challenge of places of historical significance I’m heading to Egypt – which is exciting I guess, but I’m a little confused as to why I chose it. Do they have anything old antiquey, or ancienty? I guess I can take a look to see what I can find but, the last time I checked, they just had those giant Ikea triangles scattered around Giza.

Okay let’s hit up those wonders of Ancient Egypt, the tombs built for three different pharaohs – Ronald McDonald, Hamburlar and Grimace. I present to you… McDonald’s Cairo! Just kidding. 

There is currently no evidence, in prevailing archaeological theory, that Giza’s 4,500-year-old Pyramids, sitting on the ancient necropolis, are memorial structures for the three kings. But they look remarkable, and I feel like the view is unimprovable. The Pyramids look like they would have been an almost supernatural achievement for people to build thousands of years ago, but if really could not have been that hard because there is now one at a hotel in Las Vegas. 

“Being in a pyramid is like being on the internet. It’s full of people worshiping cats, writing on walls and using odd symbols” – The Internets

In Ancient Egypt, the Leader of the Central Government was the pharoah. There were about 300 of them over Egypt’s long history. He was in charge of the yearly rise and fall of the Nile, the fertility of the soil, the keeping of peace, and the fortunes of the army, and was also high priest of all temples, commander-in-chief of the army and head of state administration.

It’s a bit like the current French Government, where Emmanual Macron is charge of national defence down to who is going to fix a Normandy village’s potholes. But the pharoah mostly had minions to do all the work for him. In carvings the pharoah is portrayed as colossal - larger than life - which is to convey a message that they were important and powerful.

We know a lot about the everyday Ancient Egyptians. They lived beside the Nile River, some were poor, some were rich. They worked as farmers, clerks, government officials, craft workers, soldiers, traders, priests. They were foodies. They played games - possibly an early Nintendo, they sang songs - potentially did some rapping, and told bad jokes. They were religious. They made gorgeous building for their gods and made the gods offerings. They believed in life after death and taxes. They travelled. They traded and went to war with other countries.

They were family folk. They loved some of their neighbours, but not all of them. They used makeup and wore different hairstyles. Some were schooled and could read and write. Some went into the family trade. Sometimes they got sick with a toothache, broken bones, malaria and called in the doctor. They rarely lived more than 40 years. They shopped, they fished and hunted. They had pet dogs and cats and gazelles.

How do we know all this? Well not too many of them had Instagram so it’s largely through hieroglyphs; their ancient written and drawn communication method that some people have learnt to read. One day, in thousands of years, someone is going to come across an old Apple iPhone with a cracked screen and think, well they should have carved their thoughts onto a real wall rather than a Facebook feed, because this thing is broken and additionally rechargers haven't existed for 1,500 years. But I digress.

The way to read hieroglyphs was actually forgotten about for 1,000 or so years before Napoleon of France invaded Egypt and the Rosetta Stone was found, which described how to reach them and hieroglyphs were discovered again.

In Ancient Egypt times, people would place everyday and objects in their tombs that would be useful in the next life. If you were poor it might be some pots, but if you were Elon Musk it would furniture, weapons, food, jewellery, a few Teslas and Twitter.

Often they were looted, but some were so well hidden they are preserved to this day – like the pharoah Tutankhamun’s. 2000 of his possessions were in there, many made in gold, including his solid gold death mask (which sounds like something from the disco era). Tutankhamun was not even an important pharoah so we can only imagine what the powerful pharaohs had in their tombs.

Athens speak louder than words

Athens is the heart of Ancient Greece civilisation, with 5^th century BC landmarks just completely littering the place, so move along, nothing to see here.

Today we are heading over to the Acropolis (High city) of Athens, a stunning citadel that sits atop of a rock in the middle of the ancient city. The Acropolis dates back to 447 BC (5^th century BC thus 2,468 years thus 128,793 weeks ago*), and its Parthenon was dedicated to the Greek goddess Athena, the goddess of wisdom and warfare (the jury is out on whether those things go together).

The Acropolis contains the ruins of ancient buildings of great historical and architecture significance, with the Parthenon famously sitting in the centre. While the white marble of the Parthenon has suffered damage over the centuries its basic structure has remained stunningly intact. The structure consists of Doric (ancient Greek style architecture) columns and extremely detailed friezes (a fancy panel of decorations on the roof, but not like bunting) and pediments.

Over its lifetime it’s been used to store munitions, converted into a church and then a mosque, an army barracks, and has widely been looted and bombed. 

The Parthenon is known as a symbol of Athens political, economic and cultural superiority and its democracy, and was built to celebrate the victory over the Persians who had been occupying Athens. It was dedicated to Athena to thank her for her moral support and cheese and olive toasties she provided during the war.

The artwork that was saved in mostly in the Acropolis Museum in Athens.  Back in the day, an interior designer/sculpture was commissioned to decorate the newly established Parthenon. His team whipped up a set of classic Greek marble sculptures – now known as the Parthenon Marbles. 

In 1812, an English aristocrat – the 7^th Earl of Elgin – removed/bought about half of the surviving marbles (other half being in the Athens museum) in a potentially shady business deal, shipped them to Britain, and sold them to the UK Government. I’m just wondering about the shipping costs that Amazon would have charged for that, and what type of ship, and how long it took, and did they get bubble-wrapped for shipping? But that’s not important right now.

Anyway, fast forward to 2022, and a squabble continues between the Greek and UK Governments over who legally owns the Parthenon marbles (colloquially known as the Elgin Marbles), with Greece saying its Acropolis "is the only place you can admire them in context”, and the UK saying it legally acquired them in accordance with laws at the time of them been moved to UK, and probs won’t be giving them back.

Alright, well let’s keep moving through the Acropolis then and try not to get involved in any more international legal disputes. Is Greece looking after its ancient artifacts? One could certainly argue that the preservation of ancient ruins are better off in the gloved hands of museum curators, wherever those museums may be, than laying around the grounds of ancient ruins in Athens.

My mum visited the Acropolis in the 2000s and told me that the columns are just laying around everywhere and she was able to sit on one. 

While the aesthetic of the Acropolis’ skyline is iconic, one could also reason more could be done to prevent erosion of marble and structural damage of temples from acid rain. What about a giant tarp over the top? I don't know, obviously, but researchers must be looking into it surely.

Other things about Athens that are nice to know: 👇

It’s the oldest European capital – 3,400 years oldest 

The Ancient Olympics were never held in Athens – wait, what 

Athens had the first ever democracy, known as demokratia 

Athens has the most theatres in the world, more than Broadway and London’s West End combined 

During construction of transport lines to support the Athens 2002 Olympic Games, one of the greatest archaeological hauls of ancient artifacts were uncovered. How very Athens.

* if this maths is wrong let the record show that I don’t know maths.