My Night with Elvis

It had been planned for ages. The tickets had been bought months earlier. It had been a popular topic around the dinner table. Yet still I had left the ‘what will I wear’ til the last minute. You know those phases you go through? Wardrobe love, wardrobe hate, wardrobe indifference, the favs, the challenges, the geez why do I still have that?

On the night we went to meet Elvis, I decided rock chick was best. It was a look I’d been cultivating. Black jeans, polka dot 8 up Doc Martens were the core elements. The top was interchangeable depending on the audience. Silk shirt for business, raw silk black shirt with mandarin collar for events, grey t-shirt for casual. And for Elvis?

Black t-shirt, Aunty Mod badge with grey vest, topped off with a purple velvet jacket.

The journey was full of expectation. Palpable. We did dinner in Ackland St, St Kilda. Once a bubbling vibrant street of the unusual, its glory is now a little faded. You can clearly see what it once was, and you can clearly see how the big brands have moved in to take advantage, and you can clearly see how they have sucked the life out of it. Shopworn. Not waving, drowning.

Rising above it all, standing like giants of style at the end of the catwalk – Luna Park and the Palais. Untouchable divas. The evening sky gave all it had, but still just a backdrop to their centrestage demands.

Elvis has been touring the world with his Spinning Wheel of… A thirty foot carnival game with his song list the cherry for audience members pulled up on stage.

We hadn’t even talked about it. About the possibility that it could be one of us. It would never happen.

We had fallen in love to a soundtrack of Elvis. Actually I used that line on Ed Kuepper once while grabbing an autograph. Ed simply looked mildly surprised and asked if we were still together.

Mick had all the albums, singles, vinyl, CD and we had seen him each time he came to Oz. We even took our son Merlyn to his first concert at 10 years of age. Elvis at the Antheeum. And he was stunned – Merlyn not Elvis.

We settled into the arms of The Palais, fabulous aisle seats with a great view of the stage. A great set from Joe Camilieri, wow is that guy underrated, you can hear why Elvis and Joe are mates.

Elvis arrived to thunderous applause, a crowd frenzied by the ultimate showman. Pure carnival. One woman was brought out of the audience for a spin, I was so excited for her. Then a second. What a treat. They looked stoned, and while entreated to dance and entertain the audience, and indeed Elvis, they could barely raise knee.

In front of me a woman was entreating an Elvis helper to take her husband.

“No”, she said “we are looking for a couple now, will you both come?”

“Oh no”, the woman in front said, “I couldn’t possibly.”

“Take us, we will, we will, we will, yes us, we are a couple, we will dance, what do you need? We can, we can.” She turned to look at us.

“Will you dance?” she asked

“Of course. We’re fabulous dancers.” I said trying to keep my voice under the tone of fingernails on a blackboard.

“Come on then”. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to me feet. Mick followed. I couldn’t hear a thing except my heartbeat threatening to burst my eardrums. I asked the woman in front to hold my bag, she looked a little crushed.

The Elvis helper took us to the stage via the central aisle. We raise our arms entreating the crowd to join in our excitement, wow did they…

Finally on stage I got to kiss Mr Costello and look him in the eye, though focus was an issue. We spun the wheel, one turn each. Elvis asked if we were married. Normally I would see that as insult considering that marriage is a patriarchal construct. I demurred no we just love each other. Elvis entreated Mick to ask me to marry him onstage, we played it up for the audience, but I’m sorry Elvis not even for you.

We danced on stage while Elvis sang us four songs…

We leapt lively into the gogo cage for a slow one, so I stripped off my velvet jacket and dragged it around Michael’s neck bringing him closer, slowly, with sexy.

Later that week the phsyio confirmed a torn cartilage.

But I would do it all again.

For you.


Love Aunty Mod


Facey Comments

4 Responses to “My Night with Elvis”
  1. Merlyn says:

    I think the torn cartilage should be more than a tidbit! Who’d of thought the ‘hippy gay arse’s’ would find a cage, let alone crowd to watch 😉 Glad there was no bending to the will of Elvis ~ you, my progenitor, are the catalyst for my marriage denials. good stuff

    • Erin says:

      You know it wont happen, not even for him! However I do remember as you child you asked why we didn’t have a honeymoon… seems you were never worried about lack of aforesaid paper contract, just the holiday.

  2. Donna says:

    Oh the limelight, the presence, the fun, the play, the music, the non marriage proposal, the camaraderie, the favour (bag holding) and then Elvis….

    But, the PALAIS!!!!! yeah baby!!!!

Check out what others are saying...
  1. […] She rips, growls and yodels like a woman possessed, and we can’t get enough. Well actually I have to sit down with my knee hurting from my last gig (read how here). […]

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