Andrew Farrell lives in South Bondi. He’s a Series Producer of a TV show called “Deadly Women,” which makes his life quite interesting. When he’s not lapping up the surf and sunshine, he’s researching gruesome murders committed by women. 

Andrew is one of many colorful characters I imbibed red wine with during my 12 glorious days in Sydney. Below are a few more –

Jay Harrison is a photog/expat Kiwi who, after a decade or so run in NYC, moved to Bronte, where he lives with his delightful ladyfriend, Alise. I stayed on their couch. Ate their muesli. Drank their wine. And felt very grateful for their hospitality. I also watched Jay pull into a heaving barrel at South Bronte.

Then there’s the eternally smiling and charismatic Derek Rielly, lover of fine womens and prolific writer for Stab. I asked him to describe Sydney’s civic character. Here’s what he said:  ”What a multi-faceted question this is. Like most joints, walk a few hundred meters down the road and you’ve gone from gold-rimmed, red lens aviator, sunshine yellow with vintage belt, electric blue RL Black Label shirt with epaulets and two breast pocket boat shoe-wearing gorgeousness to black polar fleece hoodies and tracksuit pants far too short and far too big. But, if we must generalize, Sydney is a shallow city where making it big is everything. There is no design consciousness or anything world-class except its fabulous harbor and northern peninsula.”

Aside from being a handsome bastard with a swift cutback, Kane Skenner is a fashion photographer and collector of rare/out-of-print books. The boards in the background are all his, as is the moody storm-over-sea photo, which he shot from a panoramic perch over Whale Beach, Kane’s former home and occassional stomping ground.

Jack McCoy is hard at work on a film that traces surfing’s roots, though not so much the stuff available via google, wikipedia, etc, but the lesser known, “oral history” version. I saw bits and pieces when I stayed in his Avalon studio. It looks to be something magnificent.

The above beautiful bastards helped make my 12 days in Sydney unforgettable, and I feel lucky to call them friends.