Booff | Clint Bolster
Welcome to a perfect tea party. Excellent china cups, high quality brews, and just the right amount of scandal. Booff has outdone himself, outfitting the most scrumptious tea room in respectable suburbia. A black-and-white instagrammers daydream, the tea room is filled with beautiful knickknacks and fabulous curiosities, and a set of ostentatious parlour chairs with just room enough for ten.
Upon arrival we pour each other a delicate cup of an aromatic black tea, and snack upon quintessential Australian cookies. Choice of digestive or iced vovo is a charmingly surreal, and quite like we’ve stepped into an episode of Neighbours circa 1985.
This is not so much a show as an intimate gathering, where we catch up and share gossip and stories. We are treated to a beautiful trip down memory lane, where the stories are all most genteel, at least, mostly genteel, with a touch of the macabre, and a heavy dose of the ludicrous.
A delightfully imposing clown, when captured in the intimate setting of the tea room, Booff becomes even larger than life. I felt quite giddy, it’s such a space to step into, an otherworldly experience. If you were to enter this beautiful parlour from the chaos of a summer festival, you would be instantly transported to another world entirely. In this Booff has done that most perfect of magic theatre tricks, he has made the outside go away and the inside somewhere else.
As I write my reflection, I am sipping upon a tea that was gifted as I left the parlour; “A Ceremonial Sample of Finest Loose Leaf tea.” And so it is that I am left with an impression of consummate finesse. Every detail complete, every element of the perfectly manifest. High tea with Booff ought to be the most coveted invitation of any budding socialites dance card.
