THE MOTHER complex
MOTHER-DAUGHTER RELATIONSHIPS CAN BE A TRICKY BEAST
They say when you reach a certain age, whether you like it or not, you start to turn into your mother. I’m the first to admit I can hear my mum’s voice in mine. Occasionally someone that knew Mum will say, “You’re so much like her!” but when I stop and think about it, the similarities end there.
She and I were always very different. I think you’re a product of your upbringing and she was one of six and her father was very strict. I was always close to Dad, I loved working with him in the family chicken shop, but Mum and I had a different bond – she was never very nurturing.
I remember I was always in awe of her style. When it was racing season, she would have about five different outfits made; matching shoes, handbags, hats and gloves, and cigarette holders. On Cup Day and Oaks Day she wouldn’t wear her dress in the car because she wouldn’t want it to get crushed. She’d take it in the car and then get changed when we arrived. We knew a trainer who let her use their horse float as her dressing room. Can you imagine!
Believe it or not, I was always the opposite end of the spectrum. Even though I started dancing when I was 3 and then started working in showbiz at Channel Nine when
I was 10, I never really cared about clothes and makeup. But there was an element of all that glitz and glamour to what I did, so I inadvertently fit into her world.
Deep down, I couldn’t stand fussing with lipstick and heels and all that jazz – still can’t! To this day, as soon as I finish work, my hair is up in a ponytail. There’s a photo of me getting on the plane to go to Vietnam in the ’60s, I’ve got wet hair and no makeup and Patti [Newton]’s there with her hair set and a full face of makeup, looking like a fashion model. I don’t think Bert saw Patti without makeup until she was about 50.
Now I don’t go out because I can’t be bothered putting makeup on. And I do feel like I probably should because even when I’m wearing huge sunglasses and a hat, someone will recognise me. I hate being recognised when I’m looking like a dag, so I guess there is a little bit of Mum in me somewhere. But where Mum wouldn’t step outside in anything less than full-tilt glamour, I’d rather just not step outside at all. I’d rather stay at home and watch TV with Mr DD!
Jokes aside, there is a peace that comes with age when you start to accept people as they are.