My brush with fame

We have a Japanese exchange student living with us.

She’s from Shibuya: home to the busiest pedestrian crossing on earth, surrounded by 10-storey singing billboards and 40 million things to do on a Tuesday afternoon.

She landed on our chestnut farm.

Population: us, and some very confused chestnuts.

For the first week, she was polite about it. 

By last weekend, she was craving the city. So we drove into Melbourne and, at her request, joined the annoyingly long queue at Lune croissants.

This is what Japanese people do. They queue. Joyfully. With the patience of a St Kilda supporter.

She paid $7 for a croissant, and ate it like it was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

I waited out the front wearing a Demons scarf and a look that said, “Hurry up, I want to get to the footy”.

And then a beautiful young woman approached me, phone in hand.

“Would you mind walking behind me?” she asked.

I just stared at her.

(Beautiful women do not stop me in the street and talk to me.)

“I’m an influencer”, she said matter-of-factly. “You look like a local. Just walk past me as I shoot my video, but keep it natural”, she directed.

So I did.

My kids were watching my performance from inside the bakery.

“Are you famous, Dad? You were just on a video!” my daughter said.

“Her Chanel handbag”, said Liz, “is worth more than your ute.”

I watched the influencer for a while after that.

She photographed her croissant from six angles. She laughed at things that weren’t funny. She looked stressed directing me … until the camera came on, at which point she looked like she was having a lune of a time.

She never took a bite … which, in hindsight, was the most honest thing about the whole production.

Back on the farm, every bill feels like it’s doubled. Fuel. Feed. Insurance. Even Lucky’s dog food is starting to look like a luxury item.

Our exchange student flew in from one of the most overwhelming cities on earth, rocked up to a bakery in Melbourne, paid $7, and had a genuine perfect moment.

She was just there. Munching on her croissant. In the sun.

The influencer was there too … kinda. She was performing. She wasn’t present. 

In this cost-of-living crisis, everyone’s telling you what to cut back on. I’d suggest the last thing you cut is the stuff that’s actually real. If you’re going to cut something, cut the fake stuff … 

Keep the croissant.

Tread Your Own Path!