![]() ![]() And while a critical mass of really crap bars is still, you know, crap, it is at least a massive improvement on nothing, which was the city’s previous value proposition. The nightclubs and beer barns that set the centre apart from its suburban mall competitors weren’t great, but they ensured the place kicked on after 5pm. The genius of the Myer Centre designers was to recognise the power of comparative advantage. Quite a bit of motion sickness too, especially after a few cones and a six-pack of XXXX shotgunned with a half chicken and chips from the food court far below. Sign up for a weekly email featuring our best readsĪnd with the great dragon came great change. But none of those things had a really bitching dragon-themed indoor rollercoaster rumbling overhead, whereas the Myer Centre most assuredly did. And the collapse of a 100-year-old political economy that fashioned the state capital as nothing more than a pass-through for beef, coal and pineapples. ![]() ![]() The Fitzgerald inquiry, too, I suppose, with the jailing of half a dozen corrupt cabinet ministers. ‘For the longest time if you were heading out anywhere in Brisbane, you were probably heading to the Myer Centre.’ Photograph: Jono Searle/AAPīrisbane in those days was the sort of bizarro-world colonial backwater where you were required to dress in jodhpurs and a white tux for a sitdown breakfast at even the lower middling sort of gentleman’s club, but the maitre dude would not look twice if you fetched a rustically carved ironbark whisker brush from your saddle bags and commenced vigorously scrubbing your muttonchop dandruff into the fruit salad. ![]()
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