THIS lunchtime at the Order of Melbourne, cocktails are being served while the aptly named Dolores Daiquiri takes to the stage in scarlet corset with feather plumage fans and strikes a cheesecake pose. Around 20 or so men and women start scribbling in sketchpads, some with their own watercolours and pastels. This is serious stuff.
Natalie and I scratch enthusiastically on scraps of paper, and fortunately no one descends upon us and bellows, “Ha! Imposters!”
As a glamorous DJ spins ‘Smokey Joe’s Cafe’ and ‘One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer’, we’re urged to eat biscuits and candy canes, until there are crumbs all over my depiction of Dolores’ perfect ski-jump nose.
Keeper? Yes.
Hey man, now you're really living 
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