Walking along Kellett St. in Kings Cross yesterday, with my son, I was sad to see Dean's (or Deans as the sign out the front always said) had closed down. Dean's, with its polychromatic, eccentric interior (that featured everything from a jukebox playing 45s to a surfboard hanging from the roof to tatty couches that looked like they'd survived the bombing of Hiroshima), waitresses-with-empty-faces and otherworldly, ambient vibe, was a late-nite cafe I loved to chill out in on the odd occasions I came to The Cross. It was an oasis in the beautiful maelstrom that is inner-eastern Sydney of an evening. I doubt the cafe/bar/restaurant that replaces it will have the aura Dean's had.
LJ, May 25 2008.
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