I arrive at Fairmead retirement home and am immediately requested check tickets at the door to make sure that nobody tries to sneak into the venue. Its still early, and so I oblige for a while. The two men sitting at the table in front of me selling tickets start talking in hushed tones. Well, as hushed as one can be without a hearing aid switched on. ‘Don’t worry’ he says, ‘Just keep a low profile…’ I realize at this point, that this is going to be a morning to remember.
Backstage there is distress. The outfits are late – caught in the morning traffic coming through from Fishhoek. AP Jones is supplying the fashion for today. Make-up is being applied, accessories decided upon, and models are being asked to run upstairs to their rooms and choose their best outfits just in case the clothes don’t arrive in time. The show must go on! Fortunately, the van pulls in just in a nick of time.
The crowd has turned into a full house. Ladies in wheelchairs are being pushed up to the bar to collect their champagne, and everyone is jostling for front row seats. Anticipation for the big event is growing.
Behind the scenes there is one last dilemma… who is hitting the catwalk to ‘Singing in the rain’ and who is going to ‘Rain drops are falling on my head’ The announcer is introducing everyone. The music starts. The models give it everything they have. The crowd cheers and applauds.
The show is a great success. Not even the big raffle prizes can distract the audience from talking about the energy and presence the models held in the room.
The last raffle prize is won and everyone moves towards the tea and cake tables. I drive away, and am left in awe, hoping, that when I am that age I still have so much life in me.