Tuesday, 21 October 2014

My First Celebrity Crush


Who was your first celebrity crush?

Mine was Australia’s King of Pop 1975-77, lead singer of Sherbet, a man with one of the finest voices ever to grace the stage.


Straight from the mid 70s, here is a little peek at the divine vocal and sartorial stylings of Mr Daryl Braithwaite.





That clip takes me way back to the Sunday nights of my childhood. My hand is hovering nervously over the Record button on the tape recorder propped next to the TV. And I’m hoping anxiously that next door’s dog will stop barking before I record the next song on Countdown.

I vividly remember my favourite (recurring) Daryl daydream. In this daydream (given that I was only 11 or 12 at the time) I aged myself about 10 years, and looked like a cross between Agnetha from ABBA and a Barbie doll. 

Sizzling. 

As Daryl’s girlfriend (of course) I accompanied him to many parties where we would stand around in our flared satin pants with matching vests and bomber jackets, holding hands. 

My beauty was complimented by a razor-sharp mind and a photographic recall of the lyrics of every Sherbet song. Not surprisingly, Daryl and the Sherbet boys loved to hear me sing their songs at our social gatherings, and often requested that I join them on stage at concerts.

What makes your first celebrity crush so special is that you are so young that reality plays no part in it. As you carefully remove the staples from your TV Week poster and place it lovingly on your wall, there is no voice of experience or reason telling you that you probably won’t ever meet this person, let alone marry them.




However, an opportunity to make my Daryl daydream come true presented itself many years later, when I least expected it.

It was 1992 or 93. In the midst of selecting vegetables at Coles New World in Port Melbourne I actually heard Daryl’s voice. He was looking for coriander, and seeking help from a young fresh produce assistant.

My whole world stopped. This was no daydream. It was real.

Unfortunately it was so real that I was wearing tracksuit pants and looking like a complete fright. Nobody in the whole world could have looked more dishevelled, frumpy and tracksuit-panted than I did at that moment. It wasn’t meant to happen that way!

I was far too shy to approach him. I could only watch forlornly as Daryl disappeared to continue his grocery shopping.


If only I’d worn my satin flares that day, things may have been different …



4 comments:

  1. Russell Morris .. the REAL thing... all the way... the frilly cuffed shirts... those slightly wrong teeth... and the nose... Oh yes, the long pointy honker so like my own... It was true love... I still have my singles, and the articles clipped delicately from Go-Set.

    Ironically enough, I got an email from him today... pinky swear I did... and it was addressed to Dear Wendy... OK, so it was business related, but I could tell by the way he'd signed off "from Russ" that he wanted me too...

    Daryl was for girly-swats! Russ wrote heartrendingly about Rachel, stuck in the Vietnam conflict. What did Dazza do to match that? A metaphorical cricket ditty ain't no political statement, Miss VE!!

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    1. Sorry, I've got nothing. The crowd I ran with only required me to defend Daryl/Sherbet against the likes of Skyhooks, Hush, or Bay City Rollers.
      Meanwhile, I'm a little jealous that I'm not getting emails from Daryl, like you have from Russ. What did I do wrong?

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  2. This comment has been removed by the author.

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    1. FYI the deleted comment was the same as my reply to Wendy above. I just deleted it and re-posted it as a direct reply instead. Pedantic much? I will get the hang of this soon.

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