When I was 11-years-old I once watched a documentary on ants at an art gallery. Throughout the film I spent the entire duration wondering what the fuck was wrong with the documentary maker. Twelve years after the fact I will eat my words. Ants are pretty amazing creatures. While sprawled across a picnic rug at So Frenchy So Chic I watched tens of tiny ants crawl over my brie, melting in the sun. They are quick. They can jump from stalk to stalk of grass. And more importantly I was happily content with a stomach full of baguette and French cheese that I took the time to notice.
Situated at the picturesque Werribee Mansion I was soaking up the flowers, the sun, the culture, the music and decided I was in a state of equilibrium. I was thinking like what others sound like when they’re high. And for six hours I was no longer a cynical bitch.
A fair drive up for South Melbourne, the trip to Werribee was beautiful. Smooth and Gold FM had me calm, even for the 20 minute delay caused by the traffic leading out of the Werribee South exit. The weather was perfect, and the venue stunning. The stage looked directly towards the mansion and to the side little white marquees and tents were flowing with various French produce. Wine, champagne, cheese, crepes, macaroons and other goodies – this was a festival for the foodie. Off the other side of the mansion were flower gardens. Pink and purple pansies surrounded a pond of gold fish and lilies. Further down were greenhouses with more potted plants. Tall pine trees provided shade for some people, while most set up their rugs and hampers closer to the stage.
Revolver was the first band up for their first performance in Australia. With their ’60s inspired harmonies and bouncy indie-pop they were recently nominated best newcomers at the French Grammys. The group’s amazing voices and lush, exuberant sound have made them festival favourites across Europe. Each artist had an hour and 15 minute set, which allowed them time to talk to the audience and take things slowly. It was a day filled with good food and drinks. Water was only $3 (that’s close to 7/11 prices) and there weren’t too many different food tents meaning you had variety but it wasn’t excruciating for indecisive fucks like myself.
Melanie Pain was up next. With red hair, fishnet stockings, a sheer black turtle neck shirt and a soft silky voice, she oozed French chic. Her folk pop tunes sometimes flirted with darker lyrics, namely the song How Bad Can I Be? Carmen Maria Vega followed. A feisty performer her band played punk inspired tunes that met at the intersection of gypsy jazz. Charismatic, her voice has been likened to French class Edith Piaf.
Closing the festival was Aussie-French-Paris based Nadeah. With a strong stage presence she first told the audience she can be French or Aussie, whatever we wanted to be her to be. She had golden locks that framed her face and in many ways she resembled Brigitte Bardot. Her voice was clear and surprisingly strong. Belting out cabaret and blues inspired pieces she demonstrated flawless pitch and a charismatic personality.
By dusk it was time to leave. It was fair to conclude that this was a festival like no other with something for everyone. Trust the French to choose a mansion, but props to them. Job well done.
BY TAMARA VOGL
LOVED: The venue.
HATED: That the Calamari man had run out of lemons when I bought mine.
DRANK: Water.
