an important distinction

so....the inaugural chick in a ute post. before we go any further, a few clarifications. yes, there really is a ute. it looks a little like the one below, only more purple. for a more realistic colour effect, pop on your violet-tinted glasses and squint.

for all of you non-ute people out there, i can hear you groaning already...tina, that means you. so I'd like to disabuse a common misconception about the standard chick in a ute stereotype. are you picturing something like.......

now i'm sure these are lovely girls...they may even drive utes, especially the one in the middle......but they are NOT chicks in utes. they are bushpigs in utes. note the distinction carefully.

I'm talking about a new breed ute girl, surprising onlookers with her street-edgey elegance as she steps from the iconic battered utility, nonchalently tucks her cherry-red balenciaga motorcycle bag (possibly a good fake from hong kong, but you give her the benefit of the doubt) under one arm, waving to her equally hip friends seated at that fab cafe off brunswick street that does the best soy latte in town. there's something....well....postmodern about it.

i hope we're clear....there will be no bundaberg in this blog, although there may well be a dash of white jamaican splashed over muddled lime & mint.

some images to get you on the right track

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don't care if you shake it or stir it but go easy on the vermouth and heavy on the gin.

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see...that's a serial number in the top corner...only the real ones have them.

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actually.....that's going too far. the girl above does not drive a ute.