3000, 2000 – Why Can't We Be Friends?

BY Diana Jenkins

It’s an age-old dilemma, right up there with Coke or Pepsi, wedges or fries: Sydney or Melbourne, because it seems we have to choose. Or do we? Their rivalry is legendary and fierce, but who says a postcode in one precludes appreciation of the other? Have tired divisions and oppositions between Melbourne and Sydney finally had their day?

Times might well be a-changin’. Rather than promoting homogeneity in Australia’s two largest cities, there is growing recognition of the need to celebrate their differences. Australia has long been accused of being a lifestyle Mecca in a cultural vacuum; such narrow labels demand cultural diversity in response. Melbourne and Sydney please stand up: two great Australian cities that complement rather than alienate each other.

Without Melbourne, where would Sydneysiders escape to in search of decent wine bars and lovingly retained pubs? While Sydney heaves with ubiquitous, antiseptic chrome and stainless steel refurbishments, Melbourne bars are ambient and warm, encouraging a healthy appreciation for character and period features. Ironically, the only venue in Sydney capturing the moody decadence of a typical Melbourne saloon is the aptly named Victoria Room.

The weather and beaches famously err in Sydney’s favour, but at what cost? The price is high; Sydney fashion claims the unholy pairing of the singlet and the scarf as its own. Melburnians hunker down and glory in a winter wardrobe that properly honours rather than woefully denigrates the changing seasons. Summer fashion, the province of Sydney’s enviable climate, too often encourages the over-exposure of ozone-depleted flesh and much muttering of one choice and summary dismissal: “Mutton.”

Sydneysiders claim to enjoy the best food in Australia, but so too do Melburnians. Who the hell cares who’s right? Two fine food cities are infinitely better than one, and the quality available in both steadily continues the food revolution Australia-wide. This welcome phenomenon is such that Tasmania’s Launceston, that bastion of the non-event, now enjoys in its town centre and surrounds a selection of restaurants Melbourne or Sydney would be lucky to have. Oliver put it best when he said, “Please, sir, I’d like some more.”

Melbourne attracts more major art exhibitions than Sydney, whose Art Gallery of NSW trails third once the National Gallery is thrown into the mix. Sydneysiders are disappointed by the AGNSW’s failure to woo more major travelling exhibitions, but the perfect excuse for a weekend in Melbourne is bitterly bemoaned as the sole reason for contemplating spending that time in Canberra. Melbourne and Sydney are united on this point: both rejoice in not being Canberra, the nation’s capital solely because they each had unyielding designs on the title.

Stereotypes and clichés about both cities are freely traded but often wildly misplaced. Some Sydneysiders exercise extreme disregard for the southern city they denounce as pretentious and cringingly faux-European. Ample Melburnians hold little affection for the city to the northeast they perceive as gauche and hopelessly nouveau. The more affectionate, interesting, and shared truth is that there is beauty and bastardry in both.