Of pink lilies and cheap Tahitian Hookers.

I think that we can all agree that we suffered some big losses in 2016. I lost my beautiful step dad John plus my gorgeous and important friend Maria. It has been a tough one.

And we lost another iconic family friend as well. His name was Brian Jones.

Brian Jones and my mother first met when he owned an Art Gallery in the Hawkesbury. The year was 1984. Such a colourful, larger than life jack of all trades, he had studied Floristry in the UK and was making a name for himself in the arts community. He was an expert “ZHUSHER” who could create magic with art, food and flowers. A tall man who was so in love with his mother, that he remained in the closet until her passing. He did a lot of work for big companies in the city, including installations at the Opera House. Brian had a fondness for beautiful china sets and glassware. He was flamboyant and fabulous and was an important member of our clan.

Brian Jones did the flowers for my Mum and Step Dads wedding, as well as all my siblings weddings plus my own. And we are not talking pale pink rises and baby breath stuff. We are talking amazing, colour, twine, twigs and berries sort of stuff.

Brian was bossy. My favourite memory of him was on my wedding day.

I wore green, and Brian had created a magnificent bouquet of white lilies to carry. I had six (!) bridesmaids who all wore black. He had put together Stargazer Oriental Lilies for them to carry.


By bridesmaids thought it would be a lovely idea to put one of the magnificent flowers in their hair, and they asked Brian’s opinion about it.

“By all means go ahead…” he said “If you want to look like a cheap Tahitian hooker….”

So I give you my cheap, Tahitian hookers!


But the funniest thing was yet to come. As the wedding guests gathered, we were good to go. My million bridesmaids lined up and Brian was completely beside himself.

“Bridesmaid one GO…..” he yelled and then counted “one, two, three, four, five, six…’ then “Bridesmaid two GO!” and then counted again…

And hour and a half later, it was my turn. I walked down the path, getting closer and closer to my beloved. But the thing was, Brian had not finished phaffing with me, adjusting a ribbon there, adjusting my skirt. A few metres out I looked at him with some urgency in my eyes. He gave me a final once over before saying “And bride GO!” as he disappeared into the crowd.

Later he sat back with a glass of champers, as we had one billion photos taken. His work was done.

So here is to the creatives of this world, those who seek perfection and beauty, who adore colour and form and who, for generations will be remembered as absolutely fabulous.

There is never enough colour in the world, don’t you think?