"Darlinghurst was not a safe place in the 1980s. There was this jittery vibe when the next heroin batch was coming in and people were overdosing like mad. But the area was also home to a scene of people who were into making little films or art and just going to the clubs in great clothes and dancing our butts off."
"I remember how dark it was; a slender moon offering little in the way of light. Not long after I set off I got the feeling someone was following me. I stopped, turned around but couldn't see anyone. I continued walking, heard footsteps behind me and turned again. Is anyone there? I yelled out. No answer."
"Then a taxi pulled up next to me, with an older businessman in the back seat. The driver told me to get in the cab. I'd dealt with plenty of entitled men who thought a single young woman was fair game, and I certainly wasn't about to get into a car with two guys I didn't know. Leave me alone! Stubbornly, I replied that I had no money, lived just around the corner and would walk."
"They dropped me home and didn't pull away until I was safely indoors with my housemates. If those two guardian angels hadn't intervened, something terrible could have happened. After that, I never walked home alone in th"
Darlinghurst in the 1980s carried danger alongside a vibrant nightlife and creative culture. After clubbing on Oxford Street, a 23-year-old woman walked home on a dark night, alert to her surroundings. She felt someone was following her, stopped and looked back, then heard footsteps behind her. When she yelled, no one answered. She held her keys between her fingers and walked faster. A taxi pulled up with an older businessman, and the driver insisted she get in, saying the man had been watching and would run off if she stopped. She agreed, was taken home, and the taxi did not leave until she was safely indoors. Afterward, she avoided walking home alone.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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