For someone so easily recognisable, Tony Armstrong is surprisingly unaccustomed to being famous. When he opened his front door to find paparazzi outside his house in Brunswick, his first thought was that they were birdwatchers. Rather sweetly, he walked up to ask them what bird they’d spotted: “I was like, ‘Hey, is there something cool in that tree? Oh, shit!’”
Armstrong may not be used to fame but he does politely endure it. As we walk around Brunswick more than one person gawps at the 35-year-old, so recognisable with his curls and that moustache as he strides along a mural-lined laneway while wearing the most Melbourne of uniforms to boot: a garish Wah-Wah jumper accessorised with a takeaway coffee cup. “I just need a fixie with a loaf of sourdough and some pet-nat in the basket,” he jokes.
