Sunday Herald Sun - Stellar - - Contents -

rev­els in her role as an un­apolo­getic stick­y­beak.

If you wait long enough, what is your short­com­ing will even­tu­ally be­come your strength. Look, for in­stance, at the Kar­dashian girls. Even if you don’t want to. Be­cause, truly, if you don’t, you’re hurt­ing them. Par­tic­u­larly Kim. See, once upon a time, her level of van­ity and predilec­tion for petty per­sonal machi­na­tions would have been deeply­ply dis­ap­proved of – or at least ig­nored – if only be­cause there was no plat­form for a woman like her to ex­ist. Now, thanks to real­ity TV and In­sta­gram, m, she whirls around in a dizzy­ingzzy­ing eddy of self-ab­sorp­tion, bsorp­tion, ex­posed nip­ple­ses and pant­ing self­ies. s.

Kim is fetedd as a mod­ern-day muse and “busi­ness­woman”. man”. Her time, you see, has come – even down to her anatomy. With her shiny,ny, well-basted, ex­tra­or­di­nary y but­tocks per­pet­u­ally pre­sented, re­sented, it is al­most im­pos­si­ble os­si­ble to imag­ine what t would have be­come of Kik­iKi in an era be­fore the ana­con­daa­conda didn’t “want none un­lessn­less you got buns, hun”. Her er ex­is­tence is a per­fect ex­am­ple xam­ple of per­sist­ing withth your pas­sions while le you wait for the world to catch up. The Kar­dashi­ans are a bit like the mac­aron. For years, that gor­geous­look­ing Gal­lic con­fec­tion could only be found in French bak­eries. They were so fid­dly to make, ap­par­ently. But now, pre­cisely be­cause of that, they have be­come the base camp of peak Masterchef. They’re ev­ery­where. If youy think I dis­ap­provepp of this life cy­cle, you would be in­cor­rect.in­cor­rect That would be as fu­tile as hatin hat­ing grav­ity. But also, I my­self have ind in­dulged in my own weak­ness. And t the world has now stepped up to m meet me. You see, I am an una un­apolo­getic stick­y­beak – what on­ceon would have been known a as a “nosy parker” or “ter­ri­ble“ter­ribl snoop”. In a res­tau­rant, I am a skilled and dedi ded­i­cated eaves­drop­per; ini the stu­por­mar­ket, I peer into the other shop­pers’s bas­kets to peruse their pur­chases; at the ATM,A I read the trans­ac­tion re­ceipt­sre left be­hind by strangers.strang But the greate great­est man­i­fes­ta­tion ofo my cat-killing cu­rios­i­ty­cu­rio comes in real es­tate. I re­ally, re­ally like looki look­ing in­side peo­ple’s homes homes. It doesn’t mat­ter if the h home is hum­ble or gra grand. Old or new. Big or small. I sim­ply cann can­not see that red “open” flag a-wavin’ without go­ing in to have a peek at any joint that is, like Kimmy K, open for in­spec­tion.

And I am not alone. Our en­tire is­land con­ti­nent has be­come en­tranced by the no­tion of “shel­ter”, in all its vary­ing forms. And that real-es­tate ob­ses­sion has ac­tu­ally led me to my per­fect job.

For the past six months, I have been trav­el­ling around, look­ing at some of this coun­try’s most amaz­ing homes. The sorts of places that, even if they were to come on the mar­ket, would never hold an “open house”; the sorts of places you would never nor­mally, un­less you’re on the mar­ket for a $40 mil­lion home, get to see in­side. Mostly, they are eye-bog­glingly op­u­lent. Some­times they are ec­cen­tric. They’re not so much real es­tate as un­real es­tate – which is ac­tu­ally the name of the TV show we made.

Be­cause, th­ese days, we’re all a lit­tle bit Kar­dashian, aren’t we?

If there’s no pic­ture; it never ac­tu­ally hap­pened.

Kate co-hosts Hugh­esy & Kate, 4–6pm, week­days, on the KIIS FM net­work.

“At the ATM, I read the trans­ac­tion re­ceipts left be­hind by strangers”

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