The last time I went to the races was in the 90’s. It was Ladies Day at the Cairns Cup. A relaxed spring country race carnival, the fashion of the day, floral halter-neck maxi dresses, and straw hats with fake flowers. Everyone sat together on long, wooden trackside tables or perched precariously on top of the wire fence that separated us from the equines. Surrounded by lush greenery with a picturesque range as a backdrop, we sipped wine from placcy cups while muscular horses thundered past, so close you could reach out and touch them.
In those days, all the bookies were tangible, we bet $1 each way with actual money and chose our bets strategically – cute horse name, the colour of the jockey silks, trainers credentials/pedigree…yeah, nah, not that.
Fast forward to today, and things have changed considerably. I was fortunate to go to the Melbourne Cup in 2023, and with Flemington Race Course a stone’s throw from where I live, we could walk there and stagger home. I wore a blue floral maxi dress with a green flowy, sheer jacket, topped off with a big pink fascinator that clung to the side of my head like some giant cave spider. It looked like the Teletubbies had thrown up on me. I did feel like a bit of a parody as I schlepped up the road in my pluggers (you can’t buy class) and changed into my heels at the ornate iron entrance arch.
Apparently, there are actual bookmakers at the Melbourne Cup, but with so many people, it seemed easier to download a betting app, and I wanted to prove to my twenty-something son that I was Gucci (using Gen Z slang makes me lol). He advised me of an easy app to navigate, and I put $50 on it, smug smiling when I worked out how to bet $1 each way on a race.
I picked horses that looked pretty, had long, sweeping fringes or kooky names, who came from Ireland or had trainers with Irish names, whose jockeys wore silk combinations that included the colour pink. I know! Time-consuming, but worth the effort.
The fashion vibe of the day was pastels, and Gen Z got the assignment. The girls dressed like fruit tingles (soft, pretty pastels, where I was more hard candy, life saver), and the boys complemented with suits and ties in similar hues. It’s a very formal affair for some, while others dressed for comfort in shorts and runners, kinda missing the point. It’s an occasion to dress up, and if you haven’t got blisters and aren’t carrying your shoes at the end of the day, are you even at the Cup?
It’s a long day, particularly if you’re a rookie who didn’t research. There are tables on the grass under umbrellas, which apparently sell out well in advance (nubes take note). There are bars with tables inside, but you wouldn’t get the full Cup experience sitting in there all day. Some people came like they were on a camping weekend…eskies, camp chairs, umbrellas…and I was a little bit jealous.
Melbourne stumped up a seriously hot day for the cup in ‘23, and I spent a lot of time on a bench under a tree at the parade ring, trying to escape the frazzling sun. It was interesting watching the promenading of impressive horse flesh, and it did motivate a lot of my betting choices…ooh, that horse is pretty…
I’m happy to report that everyone behaved themselves on the day. I didn’t see anyone barfing in the rose bushes, and the seriously long wait to get a margarita, or any alcohol for that matter, was most likely a ruse of the VIC government to keep everyone nice. And for those interested, I had a bet on every race, two horses, sometimes three, and came home with $38!
I told my family that next year, I would buy us all tickets to the Birdcage, and we laughed and laughed.
