ERROL PARKER | Editor-at-large | Contact
As rain drizzled down onto the cobblestone streets of Betoota’s fabled French Quarter, city worker Liam Fitzpatrick found himself standing agape outside Maison Cresci, a bustling bistro teeming with diners on what should have been a quiet, midweek evening.
“Who the fuck are all these people?” muttered Liam to himself, umbrella in hand, as he took in the scene of well-dressed couples sipping wine and laughing heartily over plates of escargot.
“I thought everyone was doing it tough?”
Liam, like many Australians, has spent the past 18 months grimacing every time his rent goes up, his grocery bill hits triple digits, or his electricity provider casually emails to let him know rates are increasing by 30%. Yet here, in the middle of a cost-of-living crisis so dire it’s become its own meme, was a sea of apparent affluence.
“Inflation’s supposed to be killing everyone, right? But these bastards look like they’ve just won Lotto,” he said, stepping aside for a man in a Hugo Boss blazer who was theatrically shouting for “another bottle of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape, s’il vous plaît.”
According to Liam’s calculations, the cheapest item on Maison Cresci’s menu, a modest plate of duck liver pâté, would set him back half a tank of petrol. Yet the crowd seemed unfazed, with many tables ordering dishes flambéed at the table for no apparent reason other than spectacle.
Economists have attempted to explain this paradox as the result of “two Australias.”
While everyday punters scrape by, skipping meals to keep up with mortgage repayments, a parallel class, largely unaffected by rising interest rates, continues to live as if foie gras is a basic human right.
“It’s not just the French Quarter,” Liam continued, walking past another restaurant equally full of diners who appeared unbothered by forecasts of recession.
“Even the fish-and-chip place had a line out the door and they’re charging 22 bucks for crumbed barramundi. What the hell is going on?”
Experts suggest this phenomenon is partly driven by corporate profiteering, with companies using inflation as an excuse to jack up prices and pad their margins. The Reserve Bank, meanwhile, continues to insist that raising interest rates will bring down demand, a statement that has baffled Liam as he watches a waiter carry out a $300 seafood platter to a table of four who all look younger than 25.
“Maybe these people just inherited properties or got into Bitcoin at the right time,” he speculated, before conceding he probably should’ve studied finance instead of social work.
For now, Liam plans to return to his Betoota Heights Meriton shitbox and contemplate whether an microwave spaghetti bolognese for one constitutes a treat. Meanwhile, Maison Cresci’s maître d’ reports that bookings for the weekend are almost full, with Friday’s guest list including a few local councillors, a real estate developer, and some cunt’s son.
“I guess this is just what late-stage capitalism looks like,” Liam shrugged, dodging a matte black Mercedes Benz G-Wagon that pulled up to the footpath.
“But I’m sure the RBA’s next rate hike will sort them out. Yeah, right.”
More to come.
