My good mate Rossco had for many years returned from St. Andrews market with a wistful smile, a dream catcher or two, wizard felt hats, tea cosy beanies and all manner of bohemian trimmings. He constantly spoke of the positive vibe and how I needed to get by for the next “one”. I never did of course and now he lives in Swizzyland – next holiday Rossco!
This apathetic attitude changed last Saturday when Mod and I snaked our way through Warrandyte and into the foothills of Kinglake where the sleepy hollow of St. Andrew’s lies. The place buzzes with a local sentimentality. People smile and give way to you while meandering amongst the smell of fresh cooked curries, the spectacle of kaleidoscopic colours and rhythmic beating of drums.
If the hubbub of city-living is ever eating away at me again I’ll grab the Bob Dylan shades and head for St. Andrew’s market. It’s friendly, country atmosphere, good local produce and festive atmosphere is like a massage for the mind. Next time I’ll look to document the market with greater purpose but on this occasion I was happy to eat the lentils and smell the gums.
For some history on the St Andrews Market and great vintage shots from the 70s (no instagram trickery needed) visit the “St Andrews Market” facebook page.