My first job after finishing school was behind a perfume counter at David Jones’ Elizabeth Street store. I couldn’t believe my luck; to me, the DJs ground floor, with its art deco chandeliers and French cosmetic houses, was the most elegant place in Sydney. Wearing black from head to toe, I’d spray scents from Balenciaga or Givenchy onto the wrists of well-heeled matrons from the eastern suburbs. They’d hand me their David Jones card and walk away with their houndstooth bag.
DJs advertised for casuals to fill Christmas shifts every year, timed perfectly with the end of the HSC. When my turn came, I had rushed to apply. We had always been a David Jones family (Mum wouldn’t shop at Grace Bros, which was taken over by Myer). As a kid, my mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and I would take the double-decker bus to town a few times a year; three of the party would have their DJ cards primed and the fourth had high hopes of a milkshake at the cafeteria.
DJs was where mum would buy my “good” dress. It was where – like the Herald’s deputy national editor Stephanie Peatling – I was fitted for my first bra. It was where I learnt about working life, while clocking on and off at the staff entrance with an army of ladies (and the odd gentleman) in black. DJs was masterful at curating a deep and abiding loyalty. You weren’t a David Jones shopper; you were a David Jones person .
And yet a decade or so ago, I stopped shopping there. Online ordering was easier. I could find the same brands elsewhere. Children grew out of their clothes too fast to warrant much investment in their wardrobes. And it appears I am not alone; this week, amid declining sales and mounting losses, David Jones was put into administration. Luxury brands, which for decades gave DJs its cache, ripped their products from its shelves .
The grand old dame of Australian shopping – which was born in 1838 on George St, Sydney – may survive voluntary administration, but is likely to have far fewer stores.
I popped into Elizabeth Street on Friday to witness what may be the dying days of a vast empire . It was buzzing. The famous pianist was tapping Jingle Bells on the grand piano. The premium designers, such as Christian Louboutin, were packing up their stock, but most shelves were full. The staff told me it was unusually busy. Some shoppers might have been spending their gift cards, or seeking a fire sale (they were out of luck), but the ones I spoke to wanted to support the store they loved.
David Jones may be a victim of the times, but it’s also the victim of some managerial missteps on the part of its owners. It’s too early to mourn the death of department stores – Myer is healthier, although still posted a loss this year – but their existence is increasingly precarious.
As one Sydney icon faces an uncertain future, another one is born. Powerhouse Parramatta opens tomorrow. It is an enormous, billion-dollar building on the banks of the Parramatta River, nicknamed the milk crate because of its criss-crossing exoskeleton. It is an engineering feat; I recommend this fascinating story from Julie Power, Anthony Segaert and the Visual Stories Team, which shows how the building dubbed the Opera House of the west was designed and constructed.
From the outset, the museum has been controversial. When Mike Baird originally proposed it, the plan was to sell off the Powerhouse’s Ultimo site. Amid backlash, that plan was shelved. The decision to build the new museum was interrogated by two parliamentary inquiries (one described it as a thought bubble). Most recently, in August, Powerhouse Parramatta’s chief executive stepped down pending a procurement and governance investigation.
Over a decade, the Herald has reported in great depth on the difficult birth of Powerhouse Parramatta. Now, it’s here; our readers can follow tomorrow’s opening ceremony on our live blog and get a glimpse of the exhibitions that, from tomorrow, they can visit themselves. I’d particularly recommend a piece by Linda Morris, to be published tomorrow morning, on the person who will be conspicuously absent from the celebrations.
Some think the Powerhouse, with its enormous halls that can house new exhibits every few years, is brilliant and innovative; others worry it will be an expensive, visually striking white elephant. We will hear the verdicts of experts and visitors alike over the next few days, but ultimately, history will judge the museum – and those who drove it – by how it is embraced by the people of Sydney, both now and in the years ahead. We’ll share our view soon, but we’re keen to hear what you think, too.
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