I'm standing in front of the entrance of Royal Randwick Park, which is not for nothing Sydney's premium choice destination for events like this horse race which my 2 girl mates and I are going to see today.
This entrance is separated from the members entrance, which is of course more exclusive. But still, alle the people are dressed up. No surprise. Of course their is a dress code that tells you exaclty what to wear. It is really interesting, so I copied the rules.
Not acceptable:
Any form of the following footwear: joggers, sports shoes, track shoes, runners, thongs, dilapidated footwear, scuffs, gumboots or slippers
Jeans/denim, jodhpurs, shorts or untailored pants
Torn or ripped clothing
Garments which show midriff
Leggings worn as pants
Parkas, duffle coats, anoraks, windbreakers, tracksuit tops, denim jackets or jumpsuits
This is just the list for the women. The mens' list is way longer.
I'm wondering why they didn't just simply make a list for clothes you are allowed to wear. I bet this list would definitely be much shorter. High heels, dress, hat or other headgear. That's it!
But why make things simple when you can make them complicated?
We're now standing in front of the racecourse. From down here there is no chance to see the whole course. The members got three levels. The Grandstand Level Tree for example has floor-to-ceiling glass frontage that overlooks the whole of Royal Randwick. So to say the cream of the crop!
We're still quite happy with our toss-up. The finish line is right in front of us which is the most important anyway. Who cares about the start?
A race takes about a minute. The break during every race 20, which makes 3 races of 1 minute in an hour. I see the horses and their riders coming closer from far away. You can feel the energy and power these animals have when they rush past. The races are really interesting. Often there is not even a second between the first and second horse. The high-toned people turn into curser and crier. Everyone wants the horse they bet on to win.
I enjoy being here. Bitching about the women who slowly get drunk and wobble around in their luxurious dresses (kind of ironic, isn't it?), listening to the speaker who announces the winner of the last race and getting lost in another world.
The sun is warming up my skin and I never want to leave this wonderful piece of earth.
Sydney I'm in love with you!
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