Everyone knows you need a flash suit and shoes if you're going to Stakes Day at Flemington Race Course. Everyone except for me on my boys' weekend to Melbourne.
Our first night in town was a big one. A delicious Greek meal at Gazi, T20 at the Melbourne Cricket Ground and some productive roulette at the Crown Casino.
At 3.30am in the hotel lift, some happy locals informed us: "Ha ha ha, they won't let you in tomorrow dressed like that!"
Disaster. With a chopper ride to Flemington booked first thing, we had little choice but to go suit shopping at sunrise. At 8.30am we forced our way into Myers and in record time were suited up and ready to go. Jeremy Wells hit up an expert and got himself a sharp dark blue number with a bow tie. I lost my head and blew $850 on a baby blue suit, pink shirt and busy tie. My first major gamble of the day.
It was with much relief we boarded the helicopter. The flight was short and comfortable with the added excitement of some strong winds. From above you see how well the city is laid out. The MCG, the Rod Laver Arena tennis arena, the surrounding blue courts, the Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit at Albert Park and Flemington are all well worth seeing from the air.
After landing we were driven up to the marquee enclosure known as the Birdcage; the area where celebrities, entrepreneurs and the creme de la creme dress up, party and watch the races.
We spent 10 minutes pleading at the entrance: "These are designer crappy old stinky sneakers". The gatekeeper finally let us in but only because we were dressed immaculately from the ankles up. Once inside we got stuck into mingling with Melbourne's A-listers, none of whom I recognised.
There's a lot to look at in the Birdcage area of Flemington. Ninety per cent of the women balance on white platform heels so high that breaking a leg later in the day has to be a risk. Especially on a diet of bubbles and canapes. There's a lot of flesh on display and rightly so at 35C. I know I would have been more comfortable in 2cm of frock and a plunging neck line.
But no. The fashion for men is all about mixing sharp blue suits with the worst shirt and tie you can find - which, out of pure luck, was exactly what I was wearing. Unfortunately a lot of dudes are also running the man bun. A decision they're bound to regret five years down the track.
But the real business of the day is refreshing drinks and throwing money at horses. We set up shop under a chandelier, by an industrial-strength fan in a tent full of the best looking people on earth. The good times rolled with live sax, bongos, a singer standing on the bar and hot tips coming from every direction.
We met some liked-minded individuals and went about yelling at the screens and dancing around like idiots waving winning tickets. Strangely, no one else in the area seemed to be betting.
The Birdcage and members areas are fantastic fun, but so is general admission. You can get right up by the finish line. That's where we were for my big win in race three with Saint or Sinner. That gelding from NZ pretty much covered my morning suit losses.
Mid-afternoon the heat was getting too much. I was on the verge of collapse, when an amazing thing happened. The Cool Change hit; a lovely south-westerly from Antarctica that makes everything all right. Refreshed, we finished the day back on the chopper and off into the Melbourne evening. A great day with my mates at the races in a great city.
Matt Heath and Jeremy Wells from Hauraki Breakfast are in Melbourne with Tourism Victoria.