KERRE MCIVOR

WHEN IT COMES TO PUBLIC SPEAKING, KERRE’S A MASTER OF DISGUISES

It’s been a busy few weeks of emceeing. October and November are traditionally busy times with end-of-year parties, Melbourne Cup events and award evenings.

I can’t quite believe I’m still being asked to emcee; I am 54 for heaven’s sake, and there are some gorgeous young women out there who are brilliant emcees – Toni Street, Laura McGoldrick, Stacey Morrison and Laura Daniel, to name just a few.

But the phone is still ringing and emails are still popping into my inbox, and I’m always delighted to do them, even if it does require a bit of effort to be emcee-ready. Unlike men, who can just shower, shave and don a suit, I take a good two hours to get ready – an hour in the hairdresser’s chair and then an hour for make-up.

There’s an “at home Kerre” and an “on stage Kerre”. The “at home Kerre” could no more stand up in front of 1000 people and make them all be quiet and listen to her than a hedgehog could. With her immaculately styled hair, false eyelashes and red lips, the “on stage Kerre” is much more bold and confident. I need to have the mask on before I can stride on stage and run proceedings.

Glossophobia, a fear of public speaking, is very real. It’s believed that around 75% of the population suffer from it and I would be one of them if I didn’t have skilled men and women around who give me the protective covering I need to get up on stage.

I was reminded of this recently when I emceed an evening with Marco Pierre White, who was in Auckland for the food and wine festival. This rock star chef has a reputation for being a bit temperamental, so I was nervous. My role, as emcee and interviewer, was to bring out the best in Marco for the 400 people who’d paid top dollar to be at the dinner he was guest of honour of.

To complicate matters, I had little time to get ready due to work commitments and rehearsal timings. I had my hair put up in a faux bob, then raced to the make-up artist. Even as I sat getting my face done I could feel my hair starting to fall out. By the time

I was in the cab on the way to the event I looked windswept.

Unkempt. And I started to panic.

I tried to tell myself that it was only messy hair. It didn’t matter.

People weren’t coming to see me, they were coming to see Marco.

I took deep breaths but nothing helped. Glossophobia was setting in. I needed that mask to be securely on before I could do the job. Mercifully, the rehearsal was cut short as Marco wasn’t there yet, so I had a scant

30 minutes to try to fix my ’do.

I ran from the waterfront venue to a Britomart salon, where the gorgeous Aubrie took control.

She pulled out the faux bob, ironed my hair into 1930s glamour waves, pinned it back under and set it.

In 30 minutes, I was done, and looked every inch the professional.

I walked cautiously back to the venue, changed into my long white dress and emerged looking glamorous. Marco was a darling, an absolute charmer, and by all accounts the evening went very well.

The only problem is my curls were so subdued by having two hairdos done in a day that I now have two-tone locks. From the roots to just above my ears – springy curls. From just above my ears to my shoulders – stringy straight strands that nothing and no-one can induce to bounce.

I guess I’ll just have to wait for them to grow out. And really, the loss of half my curls for a few months is a small price to pay for a beautiful hairstyle that gave me the confidence to do my job.