During the 1994 Boxing Day Test at the MCG, two enterprising lads dressed as polar bears, complete with detachable fur heads (well, the beer has to have an inlet somewhere) and paws. In a show of total commitment to sports-fan costumery, these boys maintained their incongruous homage to the Arctic for the entire 39-degree day (that's touching 100, Fahrenheit fans), an act which must surely go down in Ashes history as either the hardiest, or the silliest. Fast-forward to the Gabba, 2002. It's comforting to realise that even though commercialism in cricket has catapulted ahead at warp speed, some things remain the same. Cricket may have grown a little wealthier and sassier in the last eight years, but if the first Test of this series is any indication, the marriage between cricket and fancy dress seems rock-solid and incorruptible. This isn't to say, however, that it makes any more sense.

Take four boys from Toowoomba, all called Jeff (I suspect either an uncanny coincidence, or unimaginative parents). The Four Jeffs are dressed as Steve Irwins. Confused? Don't panic. Any analysis of why cricket fans are imitating Queensland's most famous crocodile-hunter is futile. Cricket costumes aren't about logic – they are manifestations of self-expression and psychological subtext. And mostly they're about having the stuff already hanging in the wardrobe. "We wear the shorts and shirts anyway," says Jeff I. "All we needed were the blond wigs, and our sisters and girlfriends helped us out with those."

Then there's the Santa Claus contingent. For those attempting to find the correlation between that jolly fat guy from the North Pole and cricket, forget it. For those who need climatic clarification, Brisbane is a hot, humid city. For those who are experiencing that above-head light-bulb moment ... you're spot on. Wearing a Santa outfit at the Gabba during the day is bordering on the certifiable. "But it's nearly Christmas," explains Santa (known to his loved ones as Richard from Sydney). "It's bloody hot in here, but the kids love it."

His fellow Santa (aka Richard's mate John) says that the outfits were for hire on a two-for-one offer. "It was either Santa or Austin Powers," he says. "And Austin Powers would just have been bloody ridiculous."

Of course, a day at the cricket would be incomplete without at least one man dressing up as a woman. Psychiatrists could undoubtedly have a field day here, but for those at the Gabba, it is apparently just good wholesome fun. "I actually don't mind the feel of stockings, I can understand the appeal," says Kylie Minogue (Peter from Brisbane). "It's a joke I've been cracking all day, but I've always enjoyed a bad habit or two," says Sister Carmel from the Little Sisters of XXXX (Peter's mate Frank).

The day's award for best female impersonation, however, goes to the bloke who seems to have borrowed Auntie Beryl's best Sunday frock. It's a blue flowery number, circa 1952, and nicely finished by a pale-beige straw hat and plain, understated cream gloves. He's a picture of elegance in his black strappy sandals, and we're sure that if he wasn't watching the Poms battle the Aussies for Ashes pride, he'd be gracing the catwalks of Milan or Paris. Take away the beer in his hand and about 50 pounds of weight, ignore the hairy legs, and he's a dead ringer for Kate Moss. If you squint enough.

But cricket fashion isn't all about the physical. There's intellectual stimulation to consider. At the Gabba, this comes in the form of the cleverly worded T-shirt. There's "Just did it", in slanting reference to that well-known shoe company. Or "Neighbourhood freak", in reference to an apparent healthy self-esteem. Or "Bring back the Biff", in reference to something so obscure that even the owner has no concept of its true meaning. There's even a "free Ronnie Biggs". But the slogan that makes all others pale in pithy comparison is "The mouth of a happy man is filled with beer". We are in Australia, after all, and priorities are priorities.

The polar bears might not have made it to Brisbane, but if this Gabba Test was any benchmark, the batty baton has been well and truly passed. As the circus rolls on to Adelaide, here's hoping the City of Churches can meet the dress-up challenge. And if the original Melbourne boys are reading this, do us all a favour and get those furry suits out of mothballs. We miss you.

Christine Davey is a freelance writer based in Victoria, Australia.

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