Chapter Six

The Courage to Go

Curiosity has a way of asking something of us.

It isn't enough to wonder what lies beyond the horizon. Sooner or later, curiosity asks whether we're willing to leave the safety of what we know and take the first step toward the unknown.

For me, that moment arrived when I was fifteen years old.

As part of a school work experience program, every student was encouraged to spend a week exploring a profession that interested them. While many of my classmates chose familiar careers, I found myself drawn to something entirely different. I had always loved theatre, performing, and the creative arts, and although I had no idea where those interests might lead, I knew they made me feel alive.

One morning in May 1991, my mum drove me to the Beenleigh train station.

Before I climbed out of the car, she reached into her handbag and handed me a small brooch she normally wore to church.

"Wear this," she said with a smile.

It wasn't expensive. It wasn't fashionable.

But to me, it felt like I had just been handed a piece of confidence.

As I pinned it onto my jacket, I remember feeling like a little businesswoman about to conquer the world.

Mum stood on the platform waving as the train pulled away.

I watched her grow smaller through the window until she disappeared from view, and then I turned my attention to everything outside. The familiar streets of Beenleigh slowly gave way to the skyline of Brisbane, and with every kilometre I travelled, I felt my world quietly expanding.

Just months earlier, I had been sitting on the curb outside our home wondering what lay beyond my neighbourhood.

Now I was on my way to discover it.

The internship was at the prestigious June Dally-Watkins School of Finishing and Modeling in Brisbane.

To be honest, I didn't know much about modeling. I wasn't there because I dreamed of becoming a fashion model. I was simply curious. I wanted to experience something different and learn how the professional world worked.

From the moment I walked through the doors, I was fascinated.

Women hurried between appointments. Telephones rang constantly. Models arrived carrying garment bags while photographers, designers, and producers came and went throughout the day. It felt like a world that moved with purpose, and I loved every minute of it.

Then, halfway through the week, something completely unexpected happened.

A fashion show producer walked into the agency looking for models to cast in an upcoming runway show.

She glanced around the room before stopping and looking directly at me.

"Have you signed in?" she asked.

I smiled politely.

"No," I replied. "I'm not a model. I'm here on work experience."

Instead of moving on, she continued studying me.

Finally, she smiled.

"Would you come with me?"

A few moments later, I found myself standing in the office of June Dally-Watkins herself.

The producer looked across the room and simply said,

"I think she has potential."

I remember sitting there in complete disbelief.

Me?

A model?

It had never crossed my mind.

Looking back now, I realize that being discovered as a model wasn't the most important thing that happened that day.

For the first time outside the safety of my own family, someone saw something in me that I couldn't yet see in myself.

She didn't know my story.

She didn't know I was the little girl from Beenleigh who had lost her father only a few years earlier.

She simply saw possibility.

Sometimes, that's all another person needs. One person who believes in them before they believe in themselves. One person willing to look beyond who they are today and glimpse who they might become tomorrow.

Someone who simply sees them.

I've often wondered if that moment quietly shaped the way I've tried to live my own life ever since.

Whether I'm mentoring a new REALTOR®, encouraging a young leader, or simply listening to someone's story, I find myself looking for the same thing that producer saw in me all those years ago.

I find myself looking for what that producer saw in me all those years ago.

Potential.

Because every life carries possibilities that even the person living it cannot always see.

That's why I believe every person deserves to feel seen, heard, and valued.

That afternoon, Mrs. Watkins invited me to attend one of her modeling classes. I accepted without hesitation.

When I arrived home that evening, I could barely contain my excitement. The train didn't seem to move fast enough. Mum was waiting for me at the station, and before she had the chance to ask how my day had gone, the words came tumbling out faster than I could say them.

She listened with the same quiet smile she always had whenever I shared one of my dreams.

Within days, everything seemed to move at extraordinary speed.

The agency arranged for me to be interviewed by The Brisbane Courier-Mail. Before long, I found myself standing in front of a professional photographer wearing a beautiful black velvet dress, wondering how a school internship had somehow become a newspaper story.

When the article was published, not everyone celebrated.

Some students teased me.

One even drew horns and a moustache across my photograph and pinned it up in school.

At fifteen years old, those moments hurt more than I cared to admit. But once again, Mum reminded me of something far more valuable than success.

She taught me never to measure my worth by someone else's opinion. And my drama teacher reinforced that lesson. "You are taking the high road, young lady," she would tell me."Believe in who you are and what it is you want to do."

Looking back now, I realize neither of them was really talking about modeling. They were preparing me for life.

After meeting with every agency in Brisbane, Mum encouraged me not to rush my decision. Together, we carefully considered each opportunity before I signed with Tamblyn Models, whose owner, Pam Tamblyn, became another remarkable mentor in my life.

Pam believed in me long before I fully believed in myself.

Over the next few years, I worked throughout Australia, walked countless runways, appeared in fashion campaigns, and eventually began teaching younger models.

At eighteen, I boarded my first international flight.

Japan.

As Mum helped me pack my suitcase, she quietly slipped a few food items between my clothes.

When I arrived at Brisbane International Airport, the airline attendant smiled politely. "Your bag is overweight.” Curious, I opened my suitcase. Nestled between my clothes was a two-pound bag of rice. I couldn't help but laugh."I'm going to Japan, Mum," I said later. She laughed too. But I knew exactly why she had packed it. It wasn't really about the rice. It was her way of making sure that wherever I travelled in the world, a piece of home travelled with me.

Japan became France. France became Italy.

One journey quietly led to another, and before long I found myself travelling throughout Europe, walking runways for designers I had never even heard of.

People often assume modeling was my dream. The truth is, it wasn’t. Modeling simply opened the first door.

My appearance provided the opportunity to explore the world, but it was curiosity that kept inviting me to walk through every doorway that followed.

Looking back now, I can see that those years were never really about fashion. They were about saying yes.

Yes to learning.

Yes to unfamiliar places.

Yes to cultures different from my own.

Yes to stepping beyond what felt comfortable.

Every destination expanded my understanding of the world.

And with every journey, I became a little less afraid of what lay beyond the horizon.