An Open Letter to the Men of Auckland

BY SALLY CONOR

Dear Auckland Guys,
I’ve known you for a while now and one thing has become clear: you need help. In so, so many ways… but mostly in the way you dress.
It’s just not that hard. It’s actually pretty easy to look okay and get girls to like you. We are base and mostly quite shallow and we talk about your butts at least as often as you talk about ours. Probably more. Seriously. Here are some foolproof tips just in case you’re finding it all a teensy bit confusing.

WEAR MORE CORDUROY
I was in the queue at the Grey Lynn Woolworth’s with a friend recently and we were distracted mid-sentence by a particularly fine pair of green corduroy trousers. “Look,” my friend whispered urgently, “Hot Dad in cords!” The fact that he was a Dad didn’t have much impact on his hotness but the corduroy sure offset his nice butt.
Corduroy is good for a number of reasons. Firstly, it isn’t denim. Jeans are cool and generally look good but they’re the lazy option. We all wear jeans when we can’t quite be bothered. Like jeans, corduroy looks better the more you wear it, BUT it comes in more than one colour and feels nicer.
Which brings me to reason number two: corduroy is pretty much velvet, but in stripes. Chicks like things that feel nice on their lady fingers. Just watch a man who is wearing a velvet jacket and see how girls like to run their hands all over it. Corduroy achieves this soft effect but without the risk of making you look like a pimp.
The third thing in favour of corduroy is its associations. Cords evoke images of wooden shacks, forests, fireplaces, pinecones, bears, whittling, pipes, etc. They are worn by nice homely guys who are good with their hands, have perfect stubble and smell of sawdust. The Diet Coke guys probably wear them when they’re not lowering themselves into elevator shafts or cleaning office windows. Even if you like computer games, smell of cheese and have trouble squeezing out a few weak pubes on your upper lip, you will benefit from corduroy’s inherent earthy manliness.

WEAR A SUIT
Seriously. I cannot overstate the effect of a good suit on a susceptible girl. She will be putty in your well-tailored hands. I have a collective crush on everyone that works at Crane Brothers because they always look so goddam amazing. Structured clothes do everyone immeasurable favours and whatever imperfections you have or are in denial about will be compensated for by a sharp dart and a well-proportioned lapel. Guys, it’s official: it’s okay to wear suits again! We don’t mind! Really! We like it! And I haven’t even gotten started on the three-piece yet. Ohmigosh.

CHOOSE YOUR SHOES CAREFULLY
Ask any girl: shoes are key. You can tell EVERYTHING about a man from his shoes. Your shoes are probably the first thing we check out, after hair, eyes, teeth and butt, all of which you can’t do much about (more on hair later). In general, sneakers are good. It’s pretty difficult to get this wrong. And yet, so many seem to. It doesn’t matter how state-of-the-art the little see-through gel bit is in the sole, running shoes are bad bad bad! Any sneaker that looks like you might actually use it to exercise, does not belong on your foot in public, unless that public is the gym. They always look ugly and stupid. Don’t argue with me on this. I have done surveys. It’s The Truth. Even better than a well-chosen sneaker is a good lace-up leather shoe. The laces are important – slip-ons are almost always a terrible idea. Particularly if they are shiny and black and good for wearing to The Viaduct. Slip-ons make you look like you are wearing something huge and oblong on your foot, like a toaster.
You can’t beat a cool brown leather lace-up brogue for top marks in the footwear department. Or a nice boot with a bit of a heel. It makes a cool noise and you will look a bit like Wyatt Earp. Which brings me to:

WEAR A GUN-BELT
Has anyone seen The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford? Holy Moses, there’s something about those gun-belts. The way they slant across the hips and stuff… I don’t know what it is. It’s primal. Primally HOT.

WASH YOUR HAIR
It’s hygiene dudes! No one will think you are gay if your hair isn’t caked with a week’s worth of sweat, dirt and laziness. If you run your hair through it and your hand feels defiled, it’s already WAY past the moment to wash it. Now go out there and work out which Herbal Essences product is best for you, and use it! Regularly! Rinse and repeat! This should be your new mantra.

FACIAL HAIR
Is a tricky one, but it basically goes like this:
- Little beards look ridiculous. Like a giant hairy mole under your lip. Be assured, people ARE laughing at you.
- Beards without moustaches are also out, unless you happen to idolise Abraham Lincoln, in which case it’s intellectual and sexy.
- Stubble is good so long as you keep it tame and don’t allow it to blend into your chest rug. See Queer Eye for the Straight Guy for more on this.

IT’S NEVER OKAY TO WEAR ‘LYNX’
Would you spray mustard gas on yourself? Or roll in skunk roadkill that’s been left to rot in a puddle of petrol? Of course you wouldn’t. Take note: as you walk past we aren’t losing control and ripping our clothes off while miaowing, we’re dry retching into our handbags.

I could go on. But I think these few helpful tips are enough to keep you going. If we work together, things are going to be okay. I believe in you.

Yours truly,

Sally



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My Review of O’Connell Street Bistro (Alternative Title: Why You Should Never Date Outside Your Comfort Zone)

BY KELLY GIBNEY

I went to O’Connell Street Bistro on a date.

As a result of the evening, I have a little advice for the lads. Do not under any circumstance, mention that drunken foursome you had while on holiday in Mexico years ago and do not ask your date to rate from one to ten how attractive she thinks she is. Trust me, neither topic is charming. That out of the way, I may be in love.

Located at number 3 O’Connell Street and housed in a former bank vault, the restaurant feels like old Europe. High windows and thick walls with strong artwork. The dining room has just 12 tables so reservations are essential.

Our table isn’t ready when we arrive so a drink at the bar is in order. The bartender is friendly and offers us olives to snack on since our table will be another twenty minutes. I should have gone with my first instinct to cancel tonight. At least the wait is a good opportunity to enjoy the effects of alcohol on an empty stomach. From the bar I check out the other patrons. This Friday night it’s filled with small groups of older well-to-do types and some younger couples. I lose myself in the people watching while my date points out how lavish he is, ordering the $25 a glass Veuve Cliquot. The waiter comes to let us know our table is ready. We are lead into the dining room and seated at a street-side table for two. The dining room is smugly refined but cosy. I love this. I feel like a proper grown up just being here.

I read over the wine list to keep focused on what lies ahead. O’Connell Street Bistro is well known for its superb wine selection. Cuisine Magazine awarded them ‘Best Wine Experience’ in its recent restaurant awards. They have a large selection of New Zealand wines as well as plenty of French and Italian drops to choose from. All styles and varieties are well represented. The wine list is well laid out and with bottles starting at $40 it’s not at all intimidating. Champagne born sommelier William Morvan is on hand to make suggestions and guide you through food and wine pairings. Our waitress encourages us to seek his advice.

My date scoffs at the idea of needing any help choosing and selects a bottle of Ch de la Cour Grand Cru (St Emilion). He makes a joke about how lucky I am to be out to dinner with him. I think he is joking. I hope so. There is apparently a crowd of females who would like to be where I am right now. I would like them to be here too.

William delivers the wine and enthuses in a charming French accent about the choice. He has a warm manner and a contagious energy as he speaks. He stays just long enough for us to feel pampered by the attention. Our wine is delicious. I have to give my dinner mate full credit here. It was an excellent choice and worthy of the $120 price tag.

Now for the really fun part. I turn my full attention to the menu. I easily choose my entree: Seared Scallops on grilled black pudding with frisee lettuce, garlic crisps and champagne vanilla syrup ($24.50). As a recovering long-time vegetarian, I’m perpetually seduced by mixing meats. The combo of scallops and black pudding sounds divine. For my main course I’m tempted by both the Roasted Duck Breast with chestnut tortellini, orange, micro watercress and apple cider buerre blance ($35.50) and Pappardelle of Braised Rabbit with rimu-smoked bacon, walnut watercress pesto and parmigiano reggiano ($32.50)

My date is English and conservative about flavors. Yawn. He has decided on a risotto entrée with seared prawns, broad beans, pine nuts, basil and pecorino. His main course will be Oven Roasted Cambrian Beef Sirloin on confit potatoes with wilted kale, bordelaise butter and red wine jus ($34.50).

Our waitress returns and I ask her advice about choosing between the Rabbit or Duck dishes. She absolutely suggests the rabbit. It is the restaurant’s signature dish. She commends my choice of the scallops and black pudding, her favourite. We also order sides of Pommes Dauphinoise ($8.00) (Englishman needs more potatoes) and Roasted Root Vegetables with saporoso balsamic.

Our entrees arrive promptly. My scallops are excellent. The creamy scallop pairs perfectly with the slightly crunchy, rich, salty black pudding. The champagne vanilla syrup ties the whole dish together beautifully. I inwardly high five myself for my choice. Across the table, the risotto is great but after the flavour revelation on my plate, it’s hard to get excited about rice, no matter how good. Date won’t try my entrée (doesn’t like scallops). Another high five.

Between courses we enjoy awkward conversation. I will spare you the details.

Main courses arrive. My pappardelle looks delicious. Wide ribbons of homemade pasta with a rich glossy sauce. Our waitress grates Parmigi Reggiano over my meal as well as cracked pepper. I’m very excited. The portions of the mains and sides are generous. No tiny art food here. My meal is absolutely sublime. Its incredibly rich but the flavours are well balanced. The smoky bacon, braised rabbit and the salty walnut pesto are a heady combination. Bliss.

Back to reality and my date is enjoying his sirloin. Though he doesn’t think it’s as good as the beef he had at Clooney’s last week, I throw out the idea that perhaps he could one day order something aside from beef and potatoes. He might be pleasantly surprised. He laughs. I think that means he doesn’t agree. The Pommes Dauphinoise and Roasted Root Vegetables are excellent. I wish I had room to eat more. I sincerely don’t know the last time I enjoyed a single dish more. I’m thrilled with my meal. Again my date won’t try my dish. What a curse it must be to have a conservative palate. I feel some sympathy for him.

Our waitress checks in on us and I resist hugging her. Instead I thank her for the nudge in the right direction. The wait staff is friendly but polished and professional about everything they do. I have enjoyed every interaction with them. I had read that during the Cuisine magazine restaurant award judging, that this Rabbit Pappardelle was the dish enjoyed the most by the judges. No surprise.

I am so full after dinner that dessert is out of the question. I check out the menu though and am drawn to the baked Tahitian Vanilla crème brulee with macadamia sable biscuit ($14.50). Also stand out is the Vairhona Dark Chocolate fondant with nougat ice cream ($15.00). All desserts are helpfully listed with wine pairings. There is a selection of cheeses and plenty of port and sherry to choose from.

It’s time to wrap things up date-wise. He suggests a drink somewhere else. I make noises about a long day tomorrow and how tired I am. Part of me hopes he sees through this and I can avoid awkward talks at a later stage. We pay our bill and part ways.

I’m in love. If the O’Connell Street Bistro was a man, I would have slipped my number into his pocket and suggested we get together really soon. Instead I’m already planning my next visit, this time with some friends. I want to show off my new crush. 9/10



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