The year is 1979. VHS is the tech of the day. The kids are skateboarding across the roads while Forever Young plays on the wind. Walkmans are tucked into short shorts blasting Pink Floyd and supped up cars go by with AC/DC rattling their windows. The girls are always smiling, the boys are always chasing and Mel Gibson has just exploded onto our screens as the leather-clad Mad Max.
The doors swing open at Fee Fee’s Bar and a tirade of Rock n Roll comes barrelling out. A cascade of red light and smoke escape the mosh pit inside as a group of long-haired lovers tumble out in a jumble of denim, leopard print, plaid button-downs, black military boots and enough leather wrist straps to put cows to shame.
They join the punks standing outside smoking cigarettes with their thumbs hanging in the pockets of their ripped jeans and extra-large Van Halen t-shirts draped over their bodies.
You take a deep breath, maybe a drag of whatever it is they’re smoking, and walk right the hell in.
Open brick walls surround you. Shelves filled with albums, lined with pictures of bands from the underground to the hits. Candles warm the bar, deep red lights fill every gap, black and white paisley prints across the back walls, an old and weathered bar top, endless bottles of spirits stacked high, and leather and wooden booths filled with rock stars and philosophers line the sides. As you pass them you hear the conversations that ring through every week. They trade shots, sip cocktails and tell stories about Led Zeppelin’s latest concert, the best Stooges track of all time, and why Queen has yet to take off in the states.
And where’s Fee Fee? Well, she’s right there smack bang in the middle of it all, rolling up her sleeves, shaking those drinks, waving the newcomers in, and taking no shit from no one. You want a drink, good music, and old school vibes, then come on in, otherwise, there’s the door, the streets outside, we got customers to serve.
This is Fee Fee’s, but it’s not 1979, is it? No. It’s 2021. But the punks are still laughing, the cocktails are still pouring, the conversations are still rumbling and that Rock n Roll is still so, so, so fucking good!
If you haven’t been, you should.
113 Johnston Street, Collingwood, VIC, 3066
Wednesday – Sunday: 6pm – 1am