“It’s a code red Mrs”. Yeah it better be I thought to myself as I put down my Sunday sodoku puzzle, “Thank you Butler. Have pilot fire up the Gulf Stream, were off to Canberra”. Unlike our last trip to the nation’s capital this wasn’t to mediate the Floriad organising committee’s tulips vs. lilies debate, it was worse!
A Code Red is the international distress signal for first-term First Ladies. It generally goes out in the first 6 months of office or after the first official trip abroad. The press are still locked in a passionate love affair with your husband (or wife) and with no legitimate gripes against the government yet, they turn their attention to you. It’s textbook bunny boiler behaviour and it can be brutal if you’re caught off-guard. Therese Rein has just completed her ‘tour of duty’ and the savages were on the attack!
The League of Former First Ladies is a mixed bag of respected and loathed women who’ve all shared the distinction of being both star and slave to their nations. But our sole purpose is to support and guide ‘newbies’ through this thankless role. We also have a social club for the widowed / divorced - sometimes Nancy, Winnie and I trawl the clubs for trade.
I’d been expecting this SOS and had my team prepped and on speed dial. “It’s a code red so be ready to leave in an hour”. Each FFL must nominate an area of First Ladiness in which they will specialise, mine is footwear glamour 101. A First Lady's ability to accessorise is ALWAYS the first area attacked, making me one of the first to be called-up. However someone like Hilary whose specialty is 'denial', or Cécilia Sarkozy whose is ‘get out while the going’s good’ could be called in at a later date and for a different issue.
Arriving in Canberra we were told by Therese’s personal secretary that we had to wait for the internationals before we could convene.
Team Imelda consisted of The Sisters Tan from footwear label Andrea & Joen. We bunkered down and mapped-out our plan of attack. My personal opinion is that T-RUDD has shown a sense of fun with her choice of footwear. When meeting HRH Queen Elizabeth 2 she wore cocky black pumps with bow trims that said “Chola, I’m a self-made multimillionaire - and chu?”
I needed a brand that would be as formidable as our new First Lady. Andrea & Joen footwear is a combination of sophistication with a rock ‘n’ roll attitude. I would of loved our First Lady to really get her rock on and wear the metallic ankle boot (Shoe of the Week) when she met the Queen! I know Imelda’s prone to excess so I toned down my selection a tad.
Andrea & Joen both have an eye for the dramatic and enjoy the bold interplay of colours and fabrication. In person the sisters are divine! I’ve never meet two who live and work together that aren’t baying for the others blood. While they admit it’s difficult, their drive to build a global empire supersedes all those silly niggling things that can drive a wedge between even the strongest of partnerships.
Next to arrive was Peter Davis (the FL of New Zealand and heir apparent to Denis Thatcher) whose speciality is hair (I know Imelda was just as surprised!) but give the man a can of Cedel, hot rollers and watch the black magic unfold! Hot on the heels of Peter was my friend and some-time drinking companion Bernadette Chirac (Fashion). Last to arrive was Cherie (The Working FL) with her sloppy mouth and a wheelie rank full of Marla Maples power-suits! I’ve never understood why a First Lady would work. In most instances it was us who orchestrated our husbands ascension so I say slam on the brakes and lap-it-up!
Bernadette immediately vetoed Cherie’s bland selection of Maggie T power suits. Not off to a good start, girls. I stepped-in to diffuse the escalating Anglo-Franco tension and presented my selection of pointed toe pony pumps with embossed croc print, mesh ankle boots (perfect for Sunday Mass), and chisel toed mary janes with brogue detailing (informal meet and greets), over the knee platform boots (perfect for visiting Eastern European countries). I am the despotic Queen of Shoes so there were no arguments over my selection.
I’d intentionally left the Gulf Stream running so I wouldn’t have to watch Bernadette and Cherie scrap over what a 300 million dollar First Lady should wear. Plus I get a bit creeped out when Peter starts back combing! I bundled up the girls and we headed for the airport. Nancy’s birthday was around the corner so I had driver swing by Fishwick and I picked up a little ‘happy’ for her.
Did we help or make this worse I guess we’ll know in another 2 and a half years!
