I grew up in a small country town.
The sort of place that is too big to be quaint and too small to be of any real interest.
Kind of stuck in the middle with very few redeeming qualities from either side. It really is one of those places you pass on the way to somewhere greater.
Unless of course, your into roses. In which case, settle in, take a load off and walk through the award winning rose gardens.
Huh? No, I'm not being sarcastic.
Where I grew up really does have rose gardens, it's the only thing that even allows our litle backwater to make it into any of the tourist handbooks.
They're fantastic and the scene of many important events in my life.
Seeing the bottom of my first bottle of bourbon and the time that....Oh, Hi Mum...Rose gardens? What rose gardens?
I got side tracked again. Sorry!
Like I was saying....
There are a few things you should probably understand about living in a small town if you've never had the pleasure...
1. Everyone knows everyone else.
2. Everyone has an opinion on everyone else - whether grounded in reality or fiction and will most likely have no compunction with sharing said opinion.
3. Never let the truth get in the way of a good gossip.
In my young, impressionable mind our town seemed to be broken into three main female social groups. Nothing like youth for a truly black & white view on things...
The Matrons - Older, upper middle class women who wore pearls, Diana Ferrari flats and were never seen out in public without a full face of makeup. They were on the school, art gallery, council board and just generally stuck their nose in everywhere and everything.
The Mothers - Middle class women who wore trackpants and runners just about everywhere. Very rarely wore makeup and generally look like they are on the way to the footy, gym or to play tennis. Are normally involved in the netball/basketball/ footy club and for some bizarre reason short hair or perms featured heavily.
Every now and then, they may break out their jeans....but only on special occasions and never with heels.
Bronx Warriors - A different social group entirely. Separated from the rest of the town by the freeway, none of the above rules applied.
There is one factor that all three groups have in common. They all snipe about each other!
As an adolescent growing up in this environment it scared the jeepers out of me - because I didn't want to be like any of these women. But there didn't seem to be much else to choose from.....
That is until I met Jodie Brilliant, the complete antithesis of them all.
She wore short skirts, knee high boots and makeup - while pushing her babies' pram down the street.
Jodie always looked funky and fresh and made me realise that you can still be sexy and you even when you are a wife and mother.
She was responsible for the purchase of a short, tartan skirt (and the following world war 3 with my mother) in my teen years because, you guessed it, she used to wear one.
I wonder if I can lay the blame for my shoe obsession there too? What do you think? Doable?
So imagine my suprise and excitement when we crossed paths again - thanks to social networking and the lovely land of Facebook.
I have to admit, I was nervous.
What if this icon of my youth let me down?
What if she wasn't really as cool as I remember her?
What if she had joined ranks with The Mothers? or ever worse The Matrons... I don't think my poor heart could take it.
Drum roll please........
Meet Jodie Brilliant.
Graphic Designer, Photographer, Artist, Sculptor. Unwitting role model & style icon.
We met at a country pub. I was bored, he was tanked. He tried to convince me that his Toyota Lexcen was a Commodore. I told him he was a moron, he stalked me and 6 weeks later we were engaged.....
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