White Collar Boxing night draws the jeers of a clan of Cape Towns trendiest. The few good men in town who look good in hats. Scampering over the dirt and grime of underground Woodstock without a smell or sight of it. The evening sweats with a primal aggression. Humming energy between exposed facebrick, punch bags, black coated steel trussing. Mandela posters and Draft taps. A sneaky paneled bar in the in the back for after-match make-up whiskeys and boxing rope folklore. Black and white tiled floors, awards cabinets, boxing trophy’s and white-starred post protectors. The type of poster illustration that would feature on FFFFound. Fight schedules read like hamburger menu’s and ring card girls are glowing golden studded. Everything to make a man happy.
There’s a crunchy mix of hi-brow and low-brow sponsors. Moet & Chandon flirts with the Auto-Quip Tyres. Grit and glory. White collar boxing is for guys with daytime jobs. The evening fights begin with an Industrial designer punching Graphic Artist. A tough but palatable match. By the end of the evening the old masters feud with real blood to spill between them. Uppercuts, hooks and fancy footwork represented by Greenside Johannesburg. We sip our carling draft and debate weight categories. Girlfriends are few. Beer is plentiful.
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I also shot the portrait of Rui “The Rooster” Esteves in the Armoury for Portrait of a Nation.