In the summer after high school my friends and I were lounging by the pool, the idea struck us – forget The Hills and Laguna Beach – we could have our own reality show and we had the perfect name: The Shore.
There is no aspect of the American dream that we, in the northern ‘burbs of Auckland do not have an equivalent for. Takapuna, where Mum and Dad happened to buy a run down house on an overgrown section and turn it into a piece of paradise (Mum actually said that she’s not leaving here unless she’s in a coffin), has a subculture of its own. None of this has been helped by a certain TV show that portrays an unrealistic North Shore life which farm girls from Te Puke seem to adore.
On a weekday morning, first thing it’s the blokes and young women on the bus or the ferry to the big city or those pretentious enough to drive over the harbour bridge at that time. Next we get the 8.30am school rush, and rush they do in their big SUVs with precious child in the back. Then the school rushers go home to do motherly jobs (I assume, they disappear anyhow). Making way for the real ‘housewives’ of Takapuna to emerge, the middle aged women who are going to coffee at one of the new organic cafés, post pilates. Embarassingly enough, Mum is part of this contingent, the pilates doing, café going one. No matter how many times I explain to her that having a scone and a trim flat white is putting on all the calories she’s just burned off, her and her friends continue this event. An unlikely redeeming factor about Mum’s pilates habits are her choice of clothing, while she prefers old t-shirts and some Warehouse leggings, far too many embrace Nike’s need to put hot pink and purple stripes on everything.
This branded obsession continues on our shores, it makes me sad. We have hardly any local bakeries anymore because of a not-to-be-named chain and if you’ve bought it from The Department Store there’s no arguing that it’s ‘in fashion’.
Come the weekend, everyone’s out being sporty and having brunch, not at the same time, obviously and the streets are filled with bikes, trikes, scooters, joggers and eggs Benedict.
Growing up, we were notorious for big house parties, drug using private school kids and having the best wharves to jump off.
It’s a place that always has a National party MP, our latest has her claim to fame as the ex-host of a gardening show, this is rather apt considering our last mayor became infamous for using the trees that line the main street as a loo. This was all exasperating until I realised that our biggest problems are dog regulations and roadworks, so she won’t be that busy anyway.
Mind you, what can you expect from a place where everyone is less than 10 minutes from a beach, the crime rate continues to drop (only 10,778 offences last year), house prices continue to rise and krill supplements (yes you read that correctly) are the next big thing? However, I love being back here on uni break and no, Mum for the last time, I’m not going to come with you to pilates!
Project Lucky 