Last Round

the life­style macher – he’s a restau­ran­teur, cook­book au­thor and re­tail rene­gade – looks back on an un­for­get­table night

Condé Nast House & Garden - - ADDRESS BOOK -

The year was 1986 – a great time to be young and free, al­beit on the streets of dur­ban. Punk rock was emerg­ing and folk mu­sic was ev­ery­where. I wore cut-off tops and pink, permed my hair and drank white wine from five litre boxes. My mate’s mom made us pleated pants that bal­looned out on the sides and ended tight against the an­kle. The eight­ies – the decade that taste for­got – was rock­ing.

If you wanted to in­vite guests to a party, you’d pick up the phone and ask. If you wanted to be in­vited, you’d skid your way at top speed across the par­quet to the phone to en­sure you picked it up. Miss the ring-ring and you missed your lift to the club. In a world now pol­luted with words, im­ages and ex­ces­sive av­er­a­ge­ness, it was the best

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