Dear frankie



Dearest frankie, Deirdre Fidge nailed it: the time IS now. In my late teens/early 20s, having discovered adulthood and independen­ce (and a pay cheque), I had a taste for all things expensive. “Champagned­rinker on a beer budget,” my mum often scoffed at me. It all changed at 22 with one dress. It was beautiful, short, sexy and made of a gold, slinky material. I wore it once to a New Year’s Eve party, got it dry-cleaned and ever so carefully tucked it in my wardrobe, still in the plastic and safe for some other ‘special occasion’. A year or so later I pulled it out, having completely forgotten about it. Alas, the moisture generated by the plastic had caused the material to break down, and all the glitzy gold had dissolved or fallen off. I’d only worn it once. ONCE. The lesson learnt that day: wear the dress, use the nice sheets and live for now… not that so-called special occasion. Love, Jules x

Dear frankie, Never have I felt more seen than when reading Wendy Syfret’s love letter to housework in issue 101. Nothing soothes me quite like a good scrub of the bathroom tiles. Coming in a close second, though, is a bubble bath with the latest frankie issue (in a squeaky clean tub, of course!). Love always, Shelby

Dear frankie, I’m only 12, but adore your magazines! My family is currently travelling up the west coast of Australia for three months, and frankie has accompanie­d me on all the long car trips. After poring over the articles in issue 101 (which was picked up in Kalgoorlie, and has travelled all the way to Monkey Mia), I dove straight into the pages with a pen and added my own decoration­s. I also managed to get my hands on issue 49 from a free book swap at a campground in Shark Bay. After reading it from cover to cover, I cut it up and created collages with it. Frankie, thank you for your beautiful, boredom-busting magazines. Lola xoxo

Dear frankie, I remember the first article of yours I ever read. I’d been given a special bumper edition as a baby shower gift. In a sleep-deprived haze, and needing time for some adulting, I randomly turned the pages, hoping to find something that caught my eye. An article laced with nostalgia, love and a little bit of comedy drew me in immediatel­y. The author wrote about video-chatting with her sick father (note to cancer: a big F.U.) as he wolfed down a finger bun (and got it caught in his throat, a jocular sparkle in his eye). I cried. A lot. (In my family, this is known as ‘having one’s pissbag too close to one’s eyeballs’.) Since that edition, I’ve read articles that have made me laugh, cry, feel frustrated and inspired. Thank you for providing a smorgasbor­d of entertaini­ng, thought-provoking and even waterfall-of-tearsinduc­ing stories. From, Maree ...................

Dear frankie, I can’t stop laughing. I’ve just read Fraser Harvey’s ruthless take on entrées in issue 101. Boy, he has nailed it. I’m going to photocopy that page and secretly leave one on the table at each restaurant from now on! Merci beaucoup, frankie! Camilla xx

Dear frankie, I’m sitting here reading James Shackell’s piece on accents in issue 101 and it has sparked something in me. I was born and raised in Ireland, but moved to Australia when I was 10. I can do this thing where I turn on either accent at any point in time, however I typically move towards the Aussie accent as it’s easier and won’t get as many ‘what did you say?’ questions. I’m embarrasse­d to speak in my Irish accent at times, as most people only understand me with my Australian one. But now I feel empowered to stay true to my roots, and will try my best to be confident in my history, as it’s something I’m so proud of. So thank you and James for this much-needed push.

Much love and appreciati­on, Kirsten


Dear frankie, I first discovered you in a tiny library in a tiny suburb of Wellington, Aotearoa. It was a somewhat lonely time for me, so borrowing my copy and spending the week carefully going through each story became a calming ritual. I appreciate how one page invites me to enjoy a little satirical cat pin and another challenges me to interrogat­e my privileges as a white woman. Now I’m back home on Vancouver Island – Coast Salish territory – and finding the current issue can be difficult. I usually end up finding you somewhere unlikely, a few months behind and in the opposite season. Still, after a particular­ly turbulent year working in healthcare, spending a Sunday morning with you (and coffee) is my favourite time of the week. Thank you for bringing me joy, reflection and accountabi­lity. Love, Carly

Dear frankie, Please tell Deirdre Fidge we should be friends. Because lady, your writing speaks directly to my soul. Especially your piece “The Time is Now” from issue 101. Loud, wild and frilly frocks dominate my wardrobe, and it’s astounding how draping myself in one can make me feel like a goddess. Why should I save that feeling for a special occasion? I recently wore one of my most loved, expensive and lavish dresses to spend a day at home. I went nowhere. I saw no one but my husband and three boys (who did all comment how pretty I looked!). But I felt amazing as I swished and swirled through the day. Carpe that diem indeed. To be totally corny: life is the special occasion. Eliza xx


Dear frankie, Reading all the thoughts about grief in issue 101 resonated deeply and made me feel less alone. For that, I owe you a big, warm hug. I lost my dad in 2020 after several years of chronic health decline, illness and dementia. Watching someone you love slip away piece by piece is utterly heartbreak­ing. The pandemic meant my family couldn’t spend time with my dad in his last six months. Not being able to touch, comfort and nurture your loved one through the journey of dying is a grief that’s beyond explanatio­n. And so, after he left us, we were not only grieving for him, but also how he died. Without us. It cuts deep and is beyond difficult to discuss. So, sometimes just reading about grief and that I’m not alone is just what I need.

Much love, Aly x

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