Girl-in-Sydney, Australia: Crystal Does Lesbian Nightlife, Discovers They’ve Got Their Own “Chart”

Today’s Girl-in-the-World feature comes from our regular writer Team Autostraddle Member Crystal! Here she is …

I used to be a regular in Sydney’s gay scene but I dropped off the grid two or three years ago. I’m not sure why, exactly. Maybe ’cause I married my job, or bought a TV, or started falling for straight girls. Whatever the reason, I’d left and never looked back — until a few weeks ago, when I began my preliminary research for this piece on Sydney, Australia’s Girl-on-Girl culture. It’s been an interesting exercise in passing off drinking and befriending girls as “reporting” and though I couldn’t get to every girl bar and event in town, I hope to give you a look at the things that occur in the city every week. That way, when you travel to Sydney (and you must!) you’ll know exactly where to go and when. Or where NOT to go, depending on how well I sell this in. Part One will cover “The Bank” in Newtown.

For those of you aren’t familiar with my hemisphere: Sydney’s gay culture is quite prominent and on par with cities like San Francisco, Paris, Barcelona and Amsterdam. We have the largest Pride event in the world (The Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras) and this queer-loving city fits in quite well with our queer-tolerant country. Well … not everyone would agree that it’s tolerant, I just know that I have never personally experienced discrimination. However … I’ve never tried to get married, have a civil union, claim de facto benefits or adopt a child.  I could have a commitment ceremony, but it would be as legally binding as the weddings I used to throw for my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles figurines. Australia isn’t perfect, there’s a long way to go. But I still feel pretty fortunate to live here, it could be so much worse.

Going into this adventure, I did wonder what’s changed since the heydey of my sparkling youth. Nervous about being around Lesbians en masse, I called my friend “Roxy” (alias used upon request) to see if I could tag along to some girlbars with her “crew.” That’s what the kids are calling their cliques these days. Roxy’s a scene regular, a young, bright-eyed and less cynical reminder of myself a few years ago, except more hip. Thankfully she obliged, and now I’m going to take you there.

For the ladies in Sydney, most of the girl-on-girl action happens in or around Newtown, an alternative inner-city suburb where I lived during my late teens – early twenties. Its draw card is King Street, a busy strip lined with cafes, pubs and all the vintage clothing, record, art and book stores that you can handle. I was drawn to Newtown as a teenager because it was one of the few places I could go where I could just be me. No-one ever judges in Newtown, no-one ever looks twice.

Velvet Wednesdays @ The Bank Hotel – King Street, Newtown

Six or seven years ago, The Bank hosted the first girl-on-girl event I ever attended — unintentionally. I was meeting my straight friends for drinks, unaware that Wednesday night hosted a girls-who-like-girls party in the upstairs space. After twenty minutes spent noticing hot girl after hot girl pass by, I abandoned my group and headed upstairs. And I kept going back.

Sure enough, The Bank’s Wednesday nights are still thriving.

Twenty pairs of eyes follow me as I walk through the door (performing my well-rehearsed James Dean saunter) and then quickly jump to the security guard following. They’re watching everyone who enters, it feels like a hunt. I half-expect David Attenborough’s voice to replace Beyonce’s over the PA system any moment now: “With fresh prey in their midst, the predators’ senses are heightened. They’ve been playing the waiting game for several hours.”

As a slightly cocky 20-year-old, I liked the feeling of being stared at by so many girls at once. I lived for it! But now it just makes me feel self-conscious.

Upstairs in the Velvet Room (“where out is always in”), my ears are assaulted by Everybody’s Free (To Feel Good) and equal proportions of Hugo Boss and CK Eternity. The place is packed except for the room’s very centre, reserved for girls not prompt enough to have secured a piece of wall, a railing or a bar that they’ll pointedly yet casually leaning on for the remainder of the evening.

I scrawl in my notebook: The Lean. I love this shit. You know who has a nice lean?

Roxy and co. scatter, and honestly, I try to blend in but this place is kinda cliquey. There’s clear divides: thirtysomething women in power suits sip cocktails in booths, the Shanes stand sulkily in the corner with skinny jeans & skinny ties appropriately hanging from their skinny frames. Jockish looking girls with popped-collars stand by the bar, chain-smoking model types in designer denim & stilettos on the balcony, and at the back wall, indie girls are decked out in their Converse, cowboy shirts & faded jeans. Here and there in between are the strays — awkward looking girls of all descriptions standing alone, trying to look busy with their iPhones while their friend/s hook up nearby.

I’ve been there, I feel for them.

Charlie, a straight girl from Roxy’s ‘crew’, points out that this scene is like the high school dance, but instead of girls on one side and boys on the other, you’ve got girls and girls and girls and a whole lot of space in between. She’s bang on. Each girl will stick to their own group of friends, but spend the night throwing come-hither looks to girls across the room. Here, being able to hold a conversation while looking over your friends’ shoulders is a must-have skill. I point this out to a girl named Mel, who laughs and agrees, “We’ve been having a conversation for about ten minutes, but the whole time I’ve been looking over there.” She points behind me, to one of the Shane girls in the corner. And that’s okay because I was too preoccupied with checking out the power suits to even notice.

Charlie, a straight girl from Roxy’s ‘crew’, points out that this scene is like the high school dance, but instead of girls on one side and boys on the other, you’ve got girls and girls and girls and a whole lot of space in between.

I’ve only been here for an hour and I’ve acclimatised; I’ve stuck to my clique, I’ve found my wall to lean on, I’m no different than any other girl here.

My notebook says: When in Rome.

Mel claims she doesn’t come to the Bank very often because she’s not really into the scene. She won’t elaborate, and I get the feeling I’ve just been humoured. But she does clue me in to one amusing fact: the girls in Sydney have their own Chart. Yep, like the Alice Pieszecki Chart. None of the girls would hand over the web address, but some intensive computer searches eventually produced it. I’m not going to link to their Chart for (probably) the very same reason they wouldn’t have wanted me to see it – it’s an invasion of privacy, no-one asks permission or fact-checks before adding names to the list.

I move to the balcony and start talking to a group of tall blondes who are visiting from New Zealand. When a lone male approaches, they all clap and cheer enthusiastically.

My note says: Unexpected, underlined just as enthusiastically.

I resign and join the crew I came with, who are out on the balcony also. I’m surrounded by girls making out with reckless abandon including my pal Roxy, who’s being auto-straddled by a girl she met approximately one hot minute ago. In the far corner, two young girls suck face like they still live at home … and they probably do. At the table next to me, an overly confident girl walks up and kisses one of its occupants, her friends’ shocked reactions quickly morphing into visible sighs. Heartbreaker.

I should probably note that I’m not drinking or even really talking tonight – I’m just sitting and observing and scrawling like a weirdo.

But no-one cares, because as cliquey as this place may be, it’s full of good people and always has been. These people allow you to create an atmosphere that is exactly what you want it to be. Exciting. Relaxing. Strange. Sleazy. Fun. Sexy. Trashy. Classy. Dirty. It’s the thing I love most about this place.

It approaches 11pm, the time that all the girls from the Bank migrate to a pub called The Sly Fox, in the neighbouring suburb. So I seek out Roxy, who is at the bar making out with another girl in exchange for shots. She comes up for air and declares we need to “gather the crew and bounce!” before charging off into the crowd.

My note says: Drunk is more fun than sober.

Just as I’m about to walk out, I see Kendall. She’s a musician who I used to hang out with here, and I notice her walk in because it’s impossible not to. Like so many girls from back then, we met because we had either made out, dated, dated each others exes, or all of the above. When Roxy beckons that it’s time to head out, I go along but plan to return later that night to see her …

… and the rest of this story  – as well as our trip the next night to the uncomfortably-titled Snatch ‘N Grab — will have to wait for Part Two …