Maybe it was because I was sitting alone.
Maybe it was my youth that let me down– a fresh-faced media conference rookieis easy pickings. The great Dame Edna Everage must have sniffed me out a mile away.
The Dame emerged from behind a curtain in Sydney’s Capitol Theatre looking stunning and far too young to have spent 50 years on stage. She was holding court for dozens of journalists, celebrating her anniversary and ready to make an announcement.
Everyone was desperate for news of her exciting new show, Barry Humphries and Friends – Back with a Vengeance. The tension was palpable. The Dame’s gold sequined dress caught the light, and her eyes caught mine. There must have been thirty people in the room, but her gaze lingered ever so briefly on me during every regal sweep of the room.
She was trouble in a purple wig.
At first I thought perhaps I had passed under the radar. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed me behind the line of photographers hogging the front row. I relaxed.
The first time she addressed me I thought maybe she was speaking to someone in the row behind. “I’m
so cutting edge”, she said. “I can see people reeling back, recoiling from some of my ideas… It’s my apercus. Write it down.” She spelled out the word, and I’m sure I didn’t imagine the steely glint to her eyes.
“Under the c is a cedilla. It’s a punctuation mark. That means the c is soft.”
Fresh meat, I could almost see her thinking, eyes narrowed, easy prey.
The conference moved on, and I thought the Dame had too. She spoke of the Anna Nicole Smith debacle, her potential run for parliament. But when a journalist asked for fashion advice for the youth of today, her gaze fixed upon mine once again.
The fashion of her youth was “brogues, tartan robes and twin sets,” she explained, smiling sweetly right at
me. “Do you know what that is?” A twin set? In a panicked haze I wondered what twins had to do with fashion.
She turned to the cameras and pointed in my direction. “This is my little pupil back there,” she sang. “Write it down. Now a twin set is a little jumper with a matching cardigan over it.” I diligently scribbled something on my notepad. Was it over? Had she run out of material?
It was not to be. Dame Edna charmed the cameras and the journalists for several minutes before talk turned to private residences being turned into museums. She spoke of her Melbourne home, then mentioned the dwellings of another famous identity. “There is also in Melbourne, Captain Cook’s Cottage. Have you heard of him? C.o.o…”
I worked up the nerve to ask a question, something about Australian values. “I adore this little girl. She’s so young, so inexperienced. In many
ways uninformed. She’s adorable.” I felt a bit prickly, but she was probably right. At least I’m adorable.
After the conference Dame Edna waded into the audience and invited us to tea. She paused by my chair – there was genuine warmth in her
interaction. She gave me a hug. We spoke for a few minutes before she was ushered out of the room by her people. We’re practically best friends, really. I’ve taken a bit of a shine to the grand Dame Edna. I can’t say I’m surprised, considering how she sparkles. Click here for more.
