Right — so, your usual guide is out today and you have got me instead. I did say. Anyway: the dress. It is the Club Climacool, a slim-fit tennis dress in a soft stretch single jersey, and it comes with a separate inner short. That is honestly the headline, and I would rather give you the headline than build up to it badly. This is the everyday dress.
It is not the tournament showpiece and it does not claim to be one.
The make-up is 88% polyester, all of it recycled, with 12% elastane — some colourways run 85 to 15, which is the same idea with a touch more give. Climacool is the technology: fast-drying fibres that keep a fresh feel against the skin instead of holding heat in.
Single jersey is a light, smooth knit, so the dress moves as one piece rather than fighting you in sections.
Slim fit means close to the body, cut for natural movement rather than compression. The inner short is separate, so you can wear it, swap it, or leave it in the bag. Sizes extra small through extra large. That is the whole thing, and I have not padded it, which the usual guide would have.
Badge of Sport at the chest.
Sydney, then, and I will keep out of the way of it. The Opera House first — the tiled shells on Bennelong Point, which are worth walking all the way round rather than photographing from the ferry like everybody does. Then Mrs Macquarie's Chair, a bench cut straight out of the sandstone at the harbour's edge for a governor's wife who liked to sit and watch for ships from home.
Into The Rocks for the Argyle Cut, hacked through solid sandstone by convict gangs with hand tools, a road made by men whose names are on nobody's plaque. And up the Pylon Lookout on the Harbour Bridge, two hundred steps above the traffic deck, which is the view the postcards are taken from and almost nobody actually climbs.
“Convicts cut that road through solid rock by hand and not one of them is named on it. Understudies build cities.”
I am told I undersell things. The dress is very good. There. Said it.
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