The cheat's guide to living rich

There’s a saying in property, buy the worst house on the best street and you’ll boost your chances of maximising a profit when it comes to resale.

For a few years now I have lived that philosophy, not intentionally and not in property, but when it comes to my friendship circle. It has come to be that among the majority of my good mates, I’m the tired, old shack and they're the renovated mansions.

Of course not everyone I socialise with has oodles of cash, but there are those who do – and this is how I cheat living rich.

Interestingly, the friends who have the beautiful homes and even some with beach houses alongside it, are usually coupled up and (now) with children (reminder: me single, no kids and on a bit of a sea change from the corporate career, which naturally comes with an income dive).

Three sets of friends who live in homes with a resale value of $2million - $3million + also have their kids going to or enrolled in private schools. A private education can be up to $50,000 per annum.

Some buy designer fashion - I don’t need Vogue to see what’s hitting the catwalks. One of my besties is a partner in a law firm and has a penchant for designer clothing (shoes and handbags too – of course). She’ll drop off bundles of clothes for dry-cleaning every Saturday after our yoga class pulling them from the boot of her brand new BMW convertible.

I attended a very swank garden party in Sorrento (beach town next to Portsea which is repeatedly written up as the playground for the rich and famous) in the New Year and was about to put on a pair of Marc Jacobs' sandals (bought on sale from a designer outlet) when my generous friend offered to loan me her Chanel shoes. She had decided to give the Versace dress a miss, opting for slim jeans and tank, and no longer required these shoes to match.

The resulting garden party was an affair to remember. I saw one like it on TV where Kate Winslet and Mick Jagger were on the guest list!

There was the entrepreneurial doctor in Sydney who opened my eyes to what having means, means. He hopped on a plane like you and I would get in a car. A party in Adelaide? No worries, count me in. The AFL Grand Final in Melbourne? Of course – and I’ll book the Hyatt for the night. Derby Day – see you there, the Hyatt again or perhaps the Westin?

He had an uncle who lived in a $10million + property in Mosman with the most glorious views of Balmoral beach, and another family member who had a fabulously, modern apartment at the Docklands in Melbourne and another in Potts Point in Sydney. In the two years we dated, we were quite the jetsetters – across Australia and overseas too. He was ambitious, hardworking, clever and successful. And unabashedly wealthy.

So, I socialise among some richies. I spend time at their beautiful houses (there’s one couple who are building their dream home overlooking Sydney’s middle harbour (the vista from their infinity pool in attached photo), and we joke there will have to be a “Caroline’s quarters” in the laid plans as I visit and stay so often), admire my well-off buddies' luxurious belongings, drive their Mercedes, and marvel at the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House while being whizzed around in their private boat.

It’s all fun and games living the high life through the people I love. As time goes on and the years march past the wrong side of 35 - I think I ought to build a bit of that myself.

Fortunately looking into their world has helped abate any grudges I may otherwise have had about people who have money – the perception they’re the privileged few and all that. I'm grateful for that, as I relax in my shanti shack in one of the best neighbourhoods in Melbourne!

The Lady of Shallot

I bought a print of John William Waterhouse’s The Lady of Shallot 15 years ago and its subject has been my symbolic friend ever since. She helps me through the bleak times.

I never framed it so when things are going ok in my life, I’ll roll the print up and store it away. I almost can’t have the painting on permanent display – the power of its impact to restore my emotional health so great that I don’t want to diminish the healing powers by having her there all the time. I don't want to take her for granted. And thus, my lady only ventures out when I go hunting for her.

The creased and slightly torn print was propped up on my lounge-room floor for weeks early last year to help me through a relationship breakup. She has been instrumental in helping me heal in the past and was instrumental in helping me heal again.

I remember placing my fingertips on her face in a raw moment of grief and feeling a connection with this figure from another time.

In the painting, the Lady of Shallot is experiencing her own melancholy – this is evident from her facial expression and by her slumped shoulders, but she is surrounded by such beauty and she, so beautiful herself with her youth, flaming red hair and white gown, that I feel things will be ok for her.

All that is surrounding her in her boat with the tapestry throw and the reeds in a river set among the green of nature, says to me there is enough here to bring her back from the depths of despair.

When I look at The Lady of Shallot, I feel comfort that someone else too has been there - where I am - but more importantly, I am rallied by the sense that things will work out for this beautiful creature, and in that, for me as well.


Postscript.

I only learned today when I googled for an image of the painting to publish with this post, that John William Waterhouse painted The Lady of Shallot from Alfred Tennyson’s poem of the same name. And I learned that in Tennyson’s poem, she dies.

What can I say? Waterhouse has painted a woman who - albeit in a dark hour - radiates an inner strength that for me, without knowing the historical background to the painting (until now), always pinned trust in her redeemed fate – and thus, why also, the painting resonates so well in helping me through my own darkest hours.

This discovery makes me chuckle. A woman (ie me) sees The Lady of Shallot making it –whereas Tennyson (and thus Waterhouse) doesn't give her a chance.

Excerpt from Tennyson’s poem, 1832.

A longdrawn carol, mournful, holy,
She chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her eyes were darken’d wholly,
And her smooth face sharpen’d slowly,
Turn’d to tower’d Camelot:
For ere she reach’d upon the tide
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shallot.

And a description about the painting from Tate online (the painting hangs at the Tate Gallery, London):

This painting illustrates Alfred Tennyson’s poem The Lady of Shalott. Draped over the boat is the fabric the lady wove in a tower near Camelot. But she brought a curse on herself by looking directly at Sir Lancelot.With her right hand she lets go of the chain mooring the boat. Her mouth is slightly open, as she sings ‘her last song’. She stares at a crucifix lying in front of her. Beside it are three candles, often used to symbolise life. Two have blown out. This suggests her life will end soon, as she floats down the river.

Dumped by the medicine man

When I had my two month sojourn in Sydney last November, an old Melbourne friend (who has recently moved from Canberra to the Emerald City), gave me the business card of a Chinese medical practitioner who works in my neighbourhood. My friend said I should see him if I had any health concerns.

I'm always open to giving things a go, if only once, so I went along and wrote in the "you are here because..." category "overall general health".

If we burrow down, I have problems with acne (mostly cleared up now thanks to a wonderful dermatologist who prescribed the ghastly drug - Roaccutane - it's a shocker, but I say the dermatologist is wonderful because overall I now have clear skin).

I also sought to see the Chinese doctor about weight control...at best I'm in the healthy weight range, but I am an apple shape and carry an extra tyre around my middle. It would be nice if I could find a simpler way to reduce my stomach fat than running three days a week and minimising my eating bordering on the hungry (which obviously I no longer do otherwise I wouldn't carry the three spare tyres).

So I went along to Dr (insert Christian first name and Chinese surname) and while he spoke English, it had a heavy Chinese lilt so this proved an immediate stumbling block in communication. I liked the basic premise however of what he said "you need more balance, too much heat - we will aim to regulate your hormones/emotions."

After checking my tongue and pulse (diagnosis weak "your outer presents as very strong, but it is fake - it is being fuelled by a fake fire") he gave me an acupuncture session and had his receptionist prepare herbs that I was to take twice a day.

Unlike many, I discovered I'm not a fan of acupuncture - my body is not keen on those needles in my legs, hands, wrists and stomach. After one week of taking the herbs, I went back to the doctor where he performed a second round of acupuncture on me and gave me more herbs.

On this visit he advised the pulse was better and my face "more glowing". Perhaps a recent trip to my beautician to have my eyebrows waxed and tinted and lashes tinted, as well as to the hairdresser to cover my greys, was the real reason for this apparent glow?

On my third visit I declared I was no better off, in fact, worse, I had been experiencing headaches (I am not a headache person at all) and noticed no difference in my wellbeing after taking the herbs.

He looked at me blank and said politely "perhaps Chinese medicine is not for you. Your body does not respond to Chinese medicine. It is not your time for Chinese medicine."

I had mentioned to a friend the evening before after yoga that it was my intention to "fire" the Chinese medicine man because there was no difference and acupuncture made me feel queasy. The amusing outcome to be was that we both fired each other.

He said "I'm sorry I could not help you. I did my best". Out I walked from his small room into the reception area and looked to her to pay - the doctor waivered the fee (thankfully) - and off I went.

Three days post visit I feel fine - no more headaches and while not bundles of it, more energy!

Slightly peculiar, but perhaps it takes a little exploration outside the norm to see the path you're on is the best place to be.

Looking for love? Your time starts now.

I went speed dating last week. In the spirit of giving it my best, I spent a large part of the week running around meeting beauty appointments. Suffice to say I showed up on the evening beautifully groomed (if you’ll allow me that) equipped with a positive attitude.

Fortunately I had acquired a partner in crime to attend as a safety net to fall back on in the mingling stages of the evening before the speed dating part kicked off.

Across a year in my usual day to day activities I would manage to go on - at best - two dates. This is through allowing the process to happen naturally; meeting them through a friend, at a pub, through work, etc. But yes, two dates per year on average.

By speeding things along (literally), my average skyrocketed to roughly 10 eligible men after one night.

The following day, I received an email from the organisers informing me that more than 70 per cent of the men I had met ticked 'yes' to seeing me again. Accordingly I had been awarded “Elite Member” status offering up discounts for future events.

A wise man once said I should continue to participate in activities I enjoy where the idea is I will meet my type through being at a place where I want to be. Sure, there may be many, many men at the cricket but why go to a Test when my pursuit is to watch the blokes and not the cricket? I’m realistic, if I’m to date a cricket fan, the day I meet him on ground won’t be my last day match to endure. So I’ve stuck to activities that interest me and I’ve attended music concerts, plays, operas, the ballet, brunch at favourite cafes, worked out at the gym, running the lake, yoga and.... not much.

I do think there’s merit in meeting potential matches through friends, this indeed is my preferred, so committed to it that last year I threw a heap of my own cash to devise a ‘six degrees of separation’ party (aforementioned in this blog). It worked to an extent – the super hero came to the party and I had met him through a friend (super hero mentioned also earlier in this blog).

It’s so easy to hide from the world – and so hard to meet a man who a) is available and b) rocks my world (and more importantly, as I tend to find falling into unrequited lust scenarios more frequently than not) you theirs.

The speed dating is great; it gets me out there, talking and meeting the boys. But after all those ticks to say yes to someone I probably wouldn’t consider in a real world scenario; and walking home with face ache from forced smiling all evening, am I any closer to meeting the match for me? I have a hunch not.

The matches are emailing me now for dates.

Date all of them on the proviso that love grows and finding the one for me could be as they say, a numbers' game? Or do I follow the wise man’s words and continue to go about my usual way, in the good faith that one day, perhaps, I won’t have to rely on the girl holding the stop watch to send the next man forward. He’ll just be there.

When you lose your single buddies

OK - out and proud. I have a boisterous personality and can at times be a bit of a bully. Read: loud and demanding.

As such, I've noticed the older I get the harder it is to befriend new people my own age (yet the Gen Ys are much more open to bombastic women in their mid 30s).

Case in point; when I threw a party late last year designed especially for singles to mingle, a few fellow 30 something single women came on board my bandwagon.

However, like an itch desperate to be scratched, I kinda knew the relationship with these newfound bosom buddies would be shortlived. And it was.

Here's the thing. The friends I have and that have endured their friendships with me (for more than 10 years), know that under all the perceived external 'bluntness' there is a sensitive, caring and kind person beneath. They value my friendship and I know through the ups and downs, we're in it for the long haul.

However, new women in their mid 30s who enter my life aren't so loyal.

And thus stands my dilemma.

I am 36 and single, my best friends are around the same age, coupled up and most have children. Or they're gay (men). As you will see from previous posts - I've even taken to caring for these said children on occasion, as mummy practice and of course, so I can keep my friendships strong with my valued few.

But by spending more and more time with my mates who have husbands/partners and kids, I'm not doing so much to create their life for myself. And this plays on me.

Unfortunately, the single women out there in my age group don't 'get' me well enough to stick around (nor for me to want them to). Like I said, the Gen Ys are terrific, but again, my best friend in the Gen Y bracket (who's 27) is herself coupled up.

I guess also, if I were to go out on the town with her, the men we would attract would not be right for me. This girlfriend looks like Jessica Alba and in fact when she was on a path in her early 20s to pursue acting - her agent said "we already have your look - it's Jessica Alba". For Melbourne people, my friend is a dead ringer for Rebecca Twigley. And Rebecca Twigley just got married. My point: the Gen Ys are also coupled and married!

I've watched with interest how my celebrity (single) peers are behaving - Jen Aniston is my favourite to watch, and unfortunately she just keeps going for the younger guys because q frankly (I believe this is why) she has a hot bod and has kept herself looking smokin'. Why would she want a 45 - 50 year old when she can get a 30 year old? Problem is, the younger age bracket of men are unlikely to stick it out with her when they can get Taylor Swift (who 30 year old Jake Gyllenhaal bagged).

Then Kate Winslet rebounded with her younger personal trainer - hot, but I read she's split from him too. Cameron Diaz is just plain embarrassing - a serial monogamist who repeatedly gets them but doesn't keep them - surely Matt Dillon, Cam?

Now Cam's on with A-Rod, Madonna's sloppy seconds. Downward slope.

Sandra Bullock thought she'd met her match and we know what happened there, Reese Witherspoon will hopefully experience a happy ending after her recent engagement, but it took her some time to move on from her broken marriage and rebound relationship with Jake Gyllenhaal.

And then the dazzling Liz Hurley pashing on with serial womaniser Shane Warne and (Australian model) 35 year old Megan Gale just keeps getting them younger and younger (all power to her, but if she thinks for a second her 22 year old footballer will bring her what 29 year old Andy Lee couldn't, she's going down Kylie Minogue's path (ie gets them young and then younger - while she keeps getting older. Tick tock, tick tock).

It's a disappointing world we live in this difficult dating palaver and even more so when I spend my evenings at home (yes, resorted to internet dating this week) because I lack single, 30 something girlfriends to go on the town with - the old fashioned way to meet men!

It's all a bit, god forbid, can I say? Depressing.

They say, put yourself out there (remember Sex and the City and Charlotte?) so here I am online throwing it to the universe. If there are any single, attractive men (over 5'11 and above 33 years) willing to swoon me, feel free to make contact! wink, wink. If I'm not at home (online trawling through the maze of men seeking to date 20 something, slim women) I'll be at my married girlfriend's house as the 'plus 1' for their family dinner.

Top Gun

Recently I was paid a visit from a super hero.

It was not the first time I had crossed paths with this stunning creature who ignites the skies. I had met him before and we had come together a few months after that, quite randomly as these things go.

A F18 Fighter Pilot, the super hero calls himself a free spirit - a mad keen surfer who chases the waves in Micronesia and travels the world for work. With his intrepid lifestyle, it's a surprise I met him at all. I've hardly moved from this town in two years and when I do it's to visit friends and family in Adelaide or Sydney.

But life works like that if you let it. Super hero and I met through a mutual friend. The more people you reach out to... the more introductions find their way.

In the short time of our acquaintance - super hero turned my humdrum existence on its head. He inadvertently reminded me life can be an adventure and with the right people on board, a whole lot of fun.

Super hero's long gone, no doubt saving other mere mortals like me from the mundanities of everyday life. He said to think of him when I see jets flying overhead. But F18 fighter jets don't often pass this way. Nor do people like him. But for the brief moment they do, their super powers keep us fully charged.

Learning from Marilyn, it could all end today

I'm a huge Marilyn Monroe fan - I can't remember when my fascination began, but it's been years and years and years. So many years that I am now the age Marilyn was when she died. I'm 36 and two months old. Marilyn Monroe was 36 and two months old (01-6-26 to 05-8-62).

It's made me think about my life and her life - and how one so short in relative terms can have so much impact. At the same age, I find this inspiring. I have also thought how lucky I am to have escaped what Marilyn didn't. World and media focus, mental illness and drugs.

It's also made me consider what comes next.

At present for me life is in limbo. I am living in Melbourne - but don't particularly want to be here any longer - so I've made steps to move on. I have entered the Green Card Lottery and find out next year (May 2011) if I become a US citizen. My father, slightly bemused by this prospect, took it on himself to do some research into my chances for success and reported back "I think you can forget it." He read that millions applied last year and just over 1000 Australians won - not sure which stats he pulled from, but the bottom line is; unlikely. I've also met someone who has entered it for the past five years - so he's living proof, the odds are stacked against us!

I have a beautiful pet dog who I have written about here before. He's 16.5 years old - already well past average life expectancy. I had a boyfriend with the promise of setting up home and having kids - but he chose to exit stage left. So now I'm in between boyfriends and plodding the single trail - wondering if I will ever have children?

I was working in an office throughout my 20s and early 30s, but now, I'm at home consulting on my own - driven by my desire to be with Walt the dog and to determine my own pace - in life and work.

Many things feel in between. But it ain't bad overall. I'm proud to be strong enough not to be led too much by keeping up with the Jones' and feeling as though I should be doing what society says I should be doing.