Take a trip east, from Sydney’s bustling Central Business District, and you’ll find yourself in Darlinghurst.
If, like Oscar, you’re looking for an adventure, this is the place to start.
Home to both Taylor Square and Oxford Street, this 80-hectare stretch of Australia was once Sydney’s seedy underbelly. Rife with street gangs and brothels, whores and criminals, Darlinghurst was as colourful as the purple Jacaranda trees dotting its street corners.
Time and gentrification later, Darlinghurst now stands proud as Sydney’s gay village, renowned for its stunning terrace houses lined in magnificent rows. Its cool cafes, bars and restaurants. Its rainbow flags and diverse history.
And, of course, its inhabitants.
Suited, booted, high-powered daddies. Social climbers and scantily-clad gym bunnies. Party boys hanging after last night’s fun. Muscle men and their tiny dogs. The glitteratzi and the drags.
Couples. Thruples. Gym fit, beach-ready bodies. Wide-eyed English boys looking for a good time. The list goes on.
Naturally, like any city, it’s not all sex, drugs and rock and roll. A suburb like Darlinghurst attracts all kinds of people. And behind those impressive closed doors, down back alleys and hidden sidewalks, are stories and secrets kept by some of the city’s best, brightest and bizarre.
Stories and secrets ideal for that wide-eyed English boy looking for the best time of his life.
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Jack Ladd 