At least once a year, I find myself tangled in a debate about the differences between Melbourne and Sydney.
Inevitably, there’s the standard twaddle about coffee and beaches and whatever, but then there’s never much of a real conclusion, and neither side changes their opinion.
However, this week there was a story that summed it up better than any roasted bean or length of sand ever could.
At Sydney’s Bondi Beach, a production company was filming a reality doco about the beautiful people who frequent the area.
But rather than rely on “reality”, the producers posted a message advising that any local who wasn’t considered “fit and/or attractive” to stay out of shot of the camera.
In short: if you’re ugly, bugger off.
It’s got to be the most Sydney thing I’ve ever heard, and it’s hard to imagine it ever happening in Melbourne.
Mainly because we like things a bit rough and scruffy here, and any local film crew would be likely to fill the background with all the imperfections Melbourne can offer – including graffiti, crumbling roads, grey clouds, and certain football fans.
We don’t hide them here.
Instead, Melbourne has a strange way of embracing our defects. And we even thrive because of them.
Last week, Melbourne was named the best city in the world. It’s no small honour, and it’s not the first time we’ve received such titles.
Far from being shocked, most citizens of this town would have nodded their heads and said “damn right it is”. But what’s funny about Melbourne is those same citizens could easily write a list of why it isn’t.
Including, but not exclusively, the crime rate, potholes, machetes, union corruption, soft judges, firebombs and no train to the airport.
And we also have a shocking habit of paying far too much for things that either don’t happen (Comm Games) or don’t work properly (myki), while then devaluing other things that do – like our school teachers.
You could argue that far from being the best city in the world, Melbourne is one of the worst.
But we know it’s not. And I think it’s because Melburnians don’t hide from the ugly bits.
We talk about them, get angry about them, and we even celebrate them when the occasion is right.
The Japanese have a beautiful concept called kintsugi. When a bowl or dish is broken, it’s put back together by filling the cracks with precious metals like gold. Then the damage and imperfection becomes the most precious part of the object.
To me, that’s Melbourne.
Sydney would just go out and buy another bowl. Where’s the beauty in that?
So the next time I’m tangled in a debate over Melbourne versus Sydney, I’ll mention that Bondi “reality” show, and I’ll hold up my long black and say, “Here’s the gold cracks.”
Justin Smith is an author, journalist and broadcaster