I’m not having kids, but I’ve totally figured out the best gender reveal party. The ‘reveal’ is a pair of baby pants - if it’s got pockets, it’s boy and if it hasn’t got pockets, it’s a girl.
There’s an amazing new cafe that’s just opened. It’s in an industrial bin; it was started by a former Michelin star chef but he only makes toasties with foraged mushrooms. They’re $26 and taste like crap but they photograph well.
Melbourne’s food scene, in one bitchy sentence.