I always wanted to be a MODEL, but . . .

Much, but not enough of my disgraceful past was spent in the rag trade flogging almost anything wearable (and sometimes unwearable) from fabrics to bras and girdles. My  most enjoyable time was with The Jenyns Patent Corset Company.

I was, of course, swamped with requests, demand even to walk the walk, strut my stuff on the catwalks of Milan, New York, Paris, London. I knew I could have been shining sun to Donyale Luna's moon. Modesty counselled me, "Cactus, don't give in to your pride. You've had a stellar career in The Industry already." So it was that Donyale Luna came to launch her Australian career at the famous Roselands Rainbow Fountain.

I was glad to be able to give Donyale her big break. I moved on to other challenges but when I retired from the glamorous, clamorous world of the catwalk, and the paparazzi, my heart drew me back to Roselands where I live in quiet retirement with my silky bantams, my scottish wolfhounds and my axolotls.
I have time now to reflect on my good fortune. It was only selflessness and humility which prevented me from working with such wonderful girls as Twiggy, Cheryl Tiegs, Wilhelmena, Veruschka and Jean Shrimpton and, of course, the legendary Donyale Luna.
This is my tribute to them.

A bit girly

A bit girly?

When I was younger I had an aunt who, almost every time she saw me, would proclaim, Oh,I’ve come over a little queer. I didn’t know, then,  that she was describing her state of mind not me! Nevertheless, Aunty Queer, as she became known, to me at least, had more foresight than I thought possible in such a dreary, little dumpling.

What would Aunty Queer make of me and my new  bracelet and bangles? I’ve been told more times than I care to forget, You have nice hands, lovely fingers, dainty wrists (never limp though). Why not put to good use the one part of my anatomy to ever attract compliments. Your baldness really suits you, it draws attention away from your thick neck? That muffin top waistline is sooo becoming? Those missing teeth - very cool?

I was in Brisbane for the APT6 exhibition so, as is my natural instinct, I went shopping in the Queensland Art Gallery shop. The red leather bangles I found are made from recycled cricket balls and are in sets of six. An intentional reference, I wonder.  As cricket is the only sport I have ever understood and liked ( alright, the Tour de France too for Andy Schleck and French scenery), the tastefully mutilated balls screamed, Buy me!

One wrist done, one to go. I wanted something different, but complementary, to adorn my remaining naked wrist. The Shopping Goddess smiled and led me to a corner of the local street market and bracelets galore. (We’re not talking Bracelets R Us or Bracelet World or Mr Bracelets here, oh no.) Bracelets lovingly created a mane by an artist, not those tawdry shiny things stamped out in their thousands. There were bracelets of little plastic strawberries and other fruits, red buttons, green butttons, pink buttons … . mmm, pink buttons on my wrist, very tempting, very girly … and then I spotted them, the bracelet with yellow buttons. Being so understated, this was me. Perhaps move on to pink when I’m more adventurous, more girly.

The Queers Christmas message

Not just another Wednesday in the Nosh Pit

I'm having lunch in the Meatlovers Food Court with my friend, so it must be Wednesday. I don't know about you, but I tire of life's almost constant challenges so, once a week I'm ready for the predictability of the stark (no, not Starck) white furniture; the white bread; the cheerless, do you want butter but it's really margarine; the fruit salad with too much watermelon; the 'Chinese' reminiscent of Hong Ling Cootamundra circa 1958; the hamburgers-with-nothing; and the roast meat so dry it looks like it was carved in the very paddock where it dropped dead from dehydration.

The usual crowd was t: the Beiges in from Denistone with their sandwiches brought from home and cut into quarters for ease of nibbling; the Accounts Rendered clerks from Coca Cola head office eating great mounds of, well, I'm not sure; the backpackers with their North Queensland tans confirming their worst fears of Sydney food; the private school children who could afford to avoid the stuff sloshed up here; and the Catholics who find comfort in the recognisible.

Andrew's salads and coffee are the Holy Grail here. Who else could dispense, with grace rather than grimace, my strong flat white with a splash of cold milk. It's little wonder that the workers from the office tower above swarm around Andrew'a coffee counter; not  those, though, from the Italian Consulate who have the mistaken idea that no one outside Italy can make a decent cup of coffee. They haven't been to Campos in Newtown.

So, there we were chewing the fat, literally. Merchants trading at a trot - saltandpepper? butter (that again!)? have a nice day have a nice weekend enjoy yourself. The slap of slop on plate. Three television screens: two reassuringly showing Dr Phil or the Midday Movie;  the third, and hardest to avoid, assaulting the hungry with sport of all hues of vulgarity. Today's sport offering: championship wrestling and jelly wrestling. Jelly wrestling! Enough to put anyone off their fruit salad (with too much watermelon).

Suddenly, everything changed. The cacophony went down a few decibels, all heads turned as one. A choir had arrived; judging by their outfits I thought, Anglicans. Anyway, Catholics would probably be at the pub or the betting joint and Presbyterians don't sing, do they?
Of course, it's CHRISTMAS when choirs can infilct on a captive audience songs which chisel deep into the brain. You know the stuff: Silent Night (I wish for a silent lunch right now); The First Noel (who was he, and how do we know he was the first bloke to be called Noel?).

It's time I came clean, time I came out. I have sung this stuff in a choir, The Gay Liberation Quire (sic), in the 1980s. We sang at concerts, in pubs,at  trade union events, homosexual law reform rallies and marches. We also busked in the CBD during the Peak Summer Consumer Period (aka Christmas).

Herewith, a sample (sing along to the tune of Hark the Herald Angels Sing)

Hark the Herald Fairies Shout

Hark the herald fairies shout
Gay is good and gays are out
Out of closets out tosay
'Liberation's on its way'
Some they laughed at, some they gagged
Some they sacked but still they failed
To crush the pride that makes us free
Gays in Solidarity
Hark the herald fairies shout
Gay is good and gays are out.

Told us we were sick and sad
Monsters, perverts, sick or mad
Told us we should know our place
Strangers to the human race.
Turned out this was just a rumour
(Glad we kept our sense of humour.)
Smashed the lies and learned to care
Now we've love and life to share.
Hark the fairies shout
Gay is good and gays are out.