What women think - May 2007

Bron's art of fabulousness

I married young. Teenage young. Which, if you want to put a positive spin on it, means that I also divorced young and thereby got all that nastiness out of the way by the time I had completed the first year of my 30s. Handy, really. I suppose.

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As a young bride my mother quite literally fell over herself in her eagerness to bestow words of wisdom on me. Quite literally - because she was wearing heels and my mother never wears heels.

There were a few corkers worth mentioning. She praised the benefits of using instant potato mix when running late with the dinner. Not dinner. The Dinner. Why the use of the definite article, I don't know.

She also wanted to buy me some slinky sort of nightgown with a fur lined hem. Her plan was for me to wear this crazy get-up on my wedding night and pretend it was chilly and lift the fur part up to warm my neck. She seriously thought that was sexy.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that my husband didn't like sleep wear on himself or on me, and that if I'd carried on with some "oh my neck's cold" palaver, he would have put his back out from laughter as opposed to some serious love making.

Did she think I was a virgin?

She told me that when I'm having guests for dinner, get myself, the wine and the table ready before I even think about the food. Her reasoning being that if greeted at the door by a stiletto-wearing, Rive Gauche smelling, champagne-bearing hostess who led the way to an elaborately laid table, it would take a minimum of six bottles of Salinger before anybody realised there was nothing bubbling on the stove. Including the hostess. At which stage, my mother delights in telling me, she'd send my father out for Kentucky Fried (in those days the company hadn't adopted the acronym) and happily stick it on her Royal Doulton serving platters.

So now I'm in my 40s - early 40s mind you, but nonetheless 40s - I feel qualified to pass on my own few bits of sage advice. Pay attention…

If you wake up feeling like crap, wear your best outfit to work. Put on your highest heels, sheerest tights, glossiest lippy and most intoxicating perfume. Dangle gaudy jewellery from your ears, pick up a full-fat latte and buy some trash mag and gawk at the celebrities with cellulite.

Because if you wake up feeling like crap and proceed to pull on some velour stretch top in an unfetching shade of taupe with some frightening marigold piping, and match it with polyester navy slacks, no belt, Bridget Jones undies and bright orange Crocs, your whole day, week and life will be crap. Or so it will seem. Beat it at its own game.

Water is your best friend. Drink it freely, happily, guiltlessly. And often. Who cares if there is a drought. We import it in bottles. You're allowed 140 litres a day, and your body only needs 2-3. It's ok. Slurp away. Water forgives you for drinking too much the night before and not getting enough sleep. Water stands by you when you're hungry and can't get a lunch break right then. Water accompanies you when you're flat broke and out to dinner and can only afford an entrée.

Before you leave for work, open the dishwasher and chuck those few cereal bowls and coffee mugs in. Be haphazard. Treat plates like Frisbees. Doesn't matter, just get them in there. Because when you come home that night to a clean kitchen, you'll be grateful. Just take care when re-opening the dishwasher again.

Never ever go anywhere, from having lunch with the Queen to renting a dvd, without some lip gloss. Ditto shaped (and where necessary tinted) eyebrows. Those two tools can see you through a parent-teacher interview, the first day at a new job and a marriage proposal. You can turn down sex, turn up the music or turn an argument around so get some shine on your lips and an arch of your brow. I'm doing it now while I'm typing! How do I look?

Napisan is your ally - even when you're not at war in the laundry and think George W is a tosser. Use it consistently and generously. Add it as often as possible to every wash. When you think you've put enough in, add just a little bit more. Dissolve it in hot water in a large bucket and shove in anything remotely white for a bit of an overnight soak. Even if it says "delicate wash only". It's been made in Taiwan for goodness sake; what's delicate there?

You can never be too thin, too rich or use too much Napisan. It even comes in a pink container (couldn't you just die…!)

This one might take you a bit of getting used to, but believe me, the benefits are incredible. When someone asks you your age, don't get all pious and offended and deduct a few numbers. Take wshatever you have on your birth certificate and add five years. I'm 41 and when I'm asked the dreaded question, I automatically say "mid-40s". Shuts them up every time. But only for a moment, because then comes the reward when they say "oh my God, are you serious?? You look so great!!" Mmm… I know. Even better when they plead to want to look as good as you do when they're that age. Keep aiming, sweetie.

NB: always tell your doctor your real age. And your pay officer. Lie without reservation to your husband.

Learn how to cook one - just one - fabulous gourmet style meal. Something with fresh herbs, loads of garlic, an expensive fillet of meat, and perhaps mascarpone and peppercorns. Think Bill Granger meets Philip Johnson. Make sure you can cook it without following the recipe and then impress your friends when they drop by. "Oh, don't worry, I'll just chuck a few things together for dinner." Works everytime.

I don't think I can finish this column without mentioning high heels. Don't be scared of them. They're not for everyone everyday but when the moment is right - that black tie do, your wedding day, a dirty weekend at Noosa - show them off. Even if you can't walk in them, just sit up at the bar and twirl your ankles.

Gotta go. Time to reapply some lip gloss.

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Read other columns written by Bron

Bron McClain p 0412 326 300 e bron@bronmcclain.com