Fringe World is like an episode of Art Attack! The collection of colourful decor, absurd fashion and hectic artisans is an assault on every sense.
It rips through Perth like an alternative outbreak of gastro, and you will be left with the shit stains of wonder, confusion and a crippling case of the willies when you see a grown man dressed as a Mermaid. Mer-man? Mer-whatever the fuck you want to call it, just don’t expect to ever feel safe swimming in the ocean again. The wave of fringe culture crashes against the rocky coastline of Perth’s ever-growing appetite for public events, so hold onto your life-vest of reality, because you may get swept out in a rip of weird shit.
Kara lives and breaths Fringe World. A fiery little half Asian pocket-rocket that can banter with the lads. She is getting ready to hit up the Pleasure Garden for a few frothies with her friends and perhaps grab some of Perth’s premier ethnic foods: a bratwurst hot dog or a bowl of paella. She messages her best friend whom she met at ECU, “hey slut features, you better be cuming tonight lol xx”. Woah, calm down Kara, we didn’t know that Barrack O’banter had been re-elected! Such messages are typical of the edgy, sexualised, faux-leso banter she likes to have
Kara’s outfit is an exact cross between “whimsically humorous” and “I read Drum Media”: a pair of Doc Marten boots, a thigh-high dress with patterns of various kittens and a tiny denim jacket with an attached button stating “I <3 Beards”. She has many tattoos on her arms, legs and back. Colourful tributes to pop culture and the perfect accompaniment to her black diagonal fringe haircut which rests effortlessly on her red-framed glasses.
While at the Pleasure Garden, Kara suggests a little drinking game: they drink every time they see someone who is rocking the circus-chic look. Fuck me, why are there so many of these people around? Thick black and white vertically striped pants, a leather vest and some black suspenders that fail to take away the attention from the 1950s greased up haircuts and up-turned mo’s. Kara snorts some cider out of her nose as she laughs at one particularly awesome specimen: a bloke with leather pants so tight you can see his ball-sack separation, aka, BeeJee’ing off his nut.
Kara and her crew head to a live comedy show to take in some laughs and continue getting fuck-eyed. Kara sits in the back silently resenting the comedian on stage. She fancies herself somewhat of a Banter-Clause and believes she can deliver the gift of humour to every good boy and girl. Nevertheless, she chokes out a few crocodile giggles while giving lustful eyes to a bearded bloke who is trying to keep the beer froth out of his centrepiece facial hair. After the show, Kara suggests the crew hit up Bar 399 for some cocktails in Perth’s smallest courtyard. She gleefully explains why Melbourne comedians are better while whispering sweet nothings to her ECU friend.
While walking through the city, the night breeze turns Kara into Count Bantula, and she proceeds to suck the patience out of her friend’s souls by drunkenly conversing with a couple of hunky police officers. While she avoids a move-on notice, she does get a classic photo with the police. Bantersaurus’ would become extinct if it weren’t for banter like that.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?