Canberra Summer Fashion Review : the latest TV wear

PopGoesCanberra's roving reporter Robyn has caught up with the latest in fashion trends for you, our cherished reader...

Like every other young Canberran with an eye for fashion, I certainly wasted no time getting down to my local Kmart store as soon as I heard the latest collection from ‘Home and Away’ had been released. And this exciting range of ready-to-wear Diamontee Hoodies and Sunset Tanks has kept me on my toes ever since. With confusing names like ‘Denim Surf’ and ‘Active Sun,’ these zany outfits have brought me no end of glee: on weeknights as I mince down London Circuit to join the queue outside Mooseheads - and, on weekends, all the sun damage I can handle.

Diamontee Hoodie
· Set a trend in this cute hoodie, casual with a hint of shine. Also available in pink.
· 100% cotton french terry.
· Shown here: Dusty egg combo with turquoise print and pale blue diamontees.

Mini Terry
· Cute and comfy, this terry skirt is perfect over bathers. Also available in white.

· Urban Mini
· This chic mini is a wardrobe essential this season. Also available in pink.

But the good news is that there’s another collection in the pipeline! Heavily influenced by Bec Cartwright’s ground-breaking take on teenage maternity wear, industry insiders anticipate an emphasis on bump-concealing peasant tops, the aptly named Love Surf Hoodie, and heavily fortified support hose. But if you thought Summer Bay had exhausted the fashion potential of strappy singlets, ethnic style sandals and undersized polos, then think again. Because the word from Milan Fashion Week is that this intriguing prêt-a-porter range is set to expand for European summer 06 to include not only a selection of men’s boat shoes and slides, but also a controversial ‘ageing Australia’ wardrobe.

Indeed, stew no more over stocking fillers for Dad this Christmas: the Alf Stewart range is coming to a Kmart near you. Complete with cream coloured slacks, special edition SES uniforms and crisp, sensible shirts, your middle-aged male relatives will never crave for style again. Rumour has it that the designers even plan to release a limited edition range of home-wares for the man about the Bay. Playfully dubbed ‘flamin heck!’ this premier collection will transform your uncle’s study into the Surf Club in no time once it’s crammed full with cheap wicker furniture, sun and moon cushions and mismatched bar stools.


If Georgie Parker’s demure range of sleepwear and undergarments (‘Georgie’) were too hot to keep under wraps last year, try to imagine the industry fervour surrounding the neatly pressed chinos and shaker knit jumpers expected to grace the catwalks when David Suzuki’s ‘The Nature of Things’ finally goes live with its much
anticipated ‘David’ collection. And stubbies, blundstones and sensible socks are set for a come-back with the ‘Bush Tucker Man’ series, due for release early next year. Grey nomads of Australia, get your shopping bags ready!

But why stop there? Mature ladies will be champing at the bit to get into this fun range of pant-suits when the ‘Murder She Wrote’ collection hits our stores later this season. Our country cousins aren’t forgotten either: ABC’s ‘Landline’ plans to release a sultry range of RM Williams and slinky Akubras in time for the Christmas rush. And rumour has it that the producers of ‘Compass’ are gearing up for a solid dose of retail therapy following the launch of a new fragrance by Geraldine Doogue, expected in time for the Spring Racing Carnival.

Down the road at SBS, producers and wardrobe personnel are deep in brainstorming mode, leaping onto the bandwagon with a playful twist on personal care in the ‘George Negus’ range of grooming accessories. Meanwhile, ‘Storyline Australia’ and ‘World News Tonight’ are expected to follow suit in early December with a series of tightly fitting chokers, asphyxiating jackets and ‘fair trade’
cosmetics designed to produce the most dramatic, assymetrical hair styles to grace the family Christmas dinner table.



Talking points indeed! My only regret is that Ailsa and Roo are no longer around to mix some true blue Aussie style into the Summer Bay fashion palate. Now there’s a couple of ladies who knew how to dress.

Long Weekend

Why Canberra is great:

It's only 90 minutes from this beautiful place!

Why Canberra is shit:

90 minutes is still too far from the beautiful Eurobodalla Coast and its country charm.

Chalk ‘n Cheese – the saga continues

PopGoesCanberra's professional photographer, Robyn, recently visited the nether regions of the Australian Capital Territory and surrounds with companion, Eugene...

Continuing on from the Woden Food Court, to the Deep Space Tracking Station, I felt like a small Siberian husky strapped into a satellite hurtling through the outer reaches of the universe, to a galaxy far, far away. But Tidbinbilla’s no place for a space traveler on empty stomach, so I was glad I’d packed the Pal chunks in jelly dog food, just to keep me going. Didn’t look much different to the stuff they feed the astronauts anyway.

It was a bit naïve, I suppose, to actually think that they’d let me have a seat at the console and a twiddle of the equipment. But hey, I’ve got a steady hand, I could be trusted with Voyager for a day – or even Mars Express. No such luck. This is about as close as you get to the action(Below).


One lap of the visitor’s centre later, and I was glad to see that even astronauts take group photos of themselves before they head off in their rockets. Pity there’s no Japanese astronauts amongst the group, sticking their fingers up in a ‘V’ behind each other’s helmets.

(Above)The final twelve: Australia, you decide who gets to come back

But even more intriguing was the glass case display of outfits worn by previous astronauts whilst gadding about in the outer reaches. Fortunately, there seems to be a dedicated wardrobe team on hand, so that everyone’s looking their best when the count-down’s over and it’s finally time for blast off.

It was also pleasing to find that the modern lady astronaut never lets her hair and make-up slip when she’s on a mission.









Getting from to know each other in the interplanetary sense is never a problem for these young bucks, as they cruise from first base to third in their convertible moon buggies.


Home renovations are high on every astronaut’s ‘to-do’ list: I bet Noni and the team from Better Homes & Gardens would have a fit if they saw the mess the Apollo team had made with their cladding (Below right).


And after a hard day rounding up all the chimps, mice and guinea pigs blasted off into space by well-meaning NASA scientists over the years, there’s always time to put up a flag or two.


If all this makes you hungry, just remember, they can pack more food into that café than you’d need to last you all the way from Earth to Mir.


But gaze at those dishes for long enough, and you’ll start to think about filling them with a family size paella. They must get good reception out there, too. I dare say you could pick up Triple MMM with that antenna.


After surveying this troubling scene, all I can say is: watch out stray space dogs of Canberra! Get yourself a licence and a muzzle or you’ll be bundled into a rocket and blasted off from Tidbinbilla. The scientists are getting ready for you as we speak, sewing tiny space suits and freeze-drying the meaty bites.

On the other hand, if you’re already bunkering down for the holocaust, and country driving’s more your thing (or you’re just sick and tired of being drag-raced up Mort street when all you’re trying to do is find a Caltex open on a Thursday night) then get along to the social whirl of down-town Gundaroo.


University entrance score not high enough? Not to worry, the Gundarro public library and literary institute is still taking enrolments for second semester.


While all you ANU graduates may scoff, and think the campus has seen better days, I think this particular state of the art facility should be enough to convince you that Canberra may not be all it’s cracked up to be over the summer, and that you should definitely relocate to the Yass valley to further your life education.



Dogs and all other ex-space-shuttle animals, please bring a plate.
See your careers counselor today!

Woden, the Evil Temptress

"How can I resist you?" ABBA said in their hit Mamma Mia. And in relation to Woden Plaza Shopping Centre, I can DEFINITELY give an answer to their question. "By thinking about how bloody awful you are. By thinking about my most recent Woden experience...."

Downtown Manuka has a distinct lack of Woolworths supermarkets. You see there is a Coles in Manuka, and Coles have really dodgy fresh produce. So I thought, how about I head down to Woden to the Woolworths there? I avoided the Woolworths at Dickson due to numerous horrible Dickson experiences.

The drive to Woden took longer than expected. It's a bloody long way. And Tuggeranong is even further than Woden. Imagine how long it would take to get there! [Left: A young woman stranded in Woden frantically re-enacts the new tATU video. "Help get me out of here!"]

I proceeded to park in the Car Park, indicated by a "P" sign. What a delight, I didn't have to pay! My excitement was soon reduced as I was informed by a woman escaping the Plaza that I should have driven around the other side of the Plaza, and that walking to Woolworths from where I had parked was a "shit way to go."

She was right. I had to cross the [lack of] ACTION bus interchange, where the infamous no. 38 bus starts its run towards Narrabundah College and beyond. I made speed to avoid run-ins with the sorts of people who take buses in Canberra. I reached the entrance of the plaza and was struck by a blast of hot air from one of those awful "air curtain" machines, as though I was literally walking into Southern Canberra Hell. [ABOVE: Irene from Home and Away spotted in Woden Plaza]

I made my way past closed up shops, their barriers down. Distantly I could see "da boiz" in the mobile phone shop having a little after work bonding session, and a lone Flight Centre woman slaving away trying to organise some helpless person's tour around Europe. Finally I reached Woolworths.


The aim of my trip to Woolworths was to buy some salmon. It was on special, you see. The "boy" who was, literally, a boy, came and served me. I said "I'd like a nice piece of salmon." He said "which one?" I said "you pick one, you're the expert." He said "I don't eat fish." [ABOVE: Customers at JB Hi-Fi Woden inspect the selection of car stereos on offer]

Grrrr. I hate these situations. He works serving fish all day and he doesn't eat fish. He said it was because he went to boarding school. Tough titties, or floppy fish, I don't care. It's like going to a bottle shop and the silly chick there doesn't drink wine. Fuck off!

I picked my own piece. My next move was to try to find a catalogue, as you do, to pick up anything else that was on special. Bad move. There was not a catalogue to be found in the store. I asked the chirpy Asian girl at the cigarette counter, who then put an older bloke and a bosomous short woman on to the case of finding me a catalogue. Ten minutes later, a lone catalogue was found from that infamous place, "out the back."

I proceeded to buy some pasta sauce. Done! Next, some mince to go with the pasta sauce. It was on special too :) But no, it wasn't to be. The premium beef mince that I wanted was not present in the fridge. I enquired. Tough titties again they said! Missing mince more like it! [ABOVE: Stunning selection of music on offer in Woden]

I was fuming. I stormed out of Woden Plaza, fearing that they may have locked me in. I'll be darned it, they had. I went out the "Emergency Exit Only" door. It was an emergency. I had to get out of that granite-floored, donut-king, K-Mart clothing smelling megalith. I zoomed out of the car-park towards my lakeside sanctuary, swearing never to return. My choice of car music was appropriate, Alizee's J'en ai marre.

"All Wodened Out" (Restaurant Review: Woden Plaza Food Court)

Our special guest writer, Robyn, has been made permanent! To celebrate this exciting occasion, the talented photographer/journalist headed down to Woden Plaza to partake of the famed southern Canberra cuisine.


The first rays of spring-like sunshine penetrated the backyard last Saturday, and my hunger pangs were chiming with an intensity I had not known before. As it was such a beautiful day, we decided to DINE OUT at Woden plaza!


Less than twenty minutes later we descended into the valley, which seemed to be bathed in a ghostly shimmer, and I was immediately struck how the delicate winter hues of the Woden countryside shaded delicately into the village style architecture of the town centre – or ‘plaza.’

As the strains of piped music (a folk-song that I was unable to detect the origins of, except that it seemed to be inspired by the theme to EStreet) ushered us from the multi-level carpark and into the foreground of the dining area, I began to sense some trepidation from my dining companion. With interior design values reminiscent of the highly acclaimed VLine/Countrylink school of waiting room design, the entrance to the Food Court dazzled with its heady mix of fluorescent lighting and bustling ambience.


Narrowly dodging a three-tier toddler carriage device, my dining companion headed directly to the nearest branch of his favourite bank, while I surveyed the scene before me. Waiting to be seated took some time, so I allowed myself the indulgence of lingering by the bain marie at the curry corner, anxious to discover some of the chef’s spice-laden secrets.


Indeed, the culinary history of Woden valley is a finely chequered one, with regional styles expressing themselves in variations on traditional dishes, such as the ‘wrap’ and the ‘supersize.’ Modes of presentation also differ between postcodes, as my dining companion discovered after requesting the the ‘junior size’ lasagna, only to find the minimalist tableware (hastily selected at the beginning of the queue) unable to support the dish’s heavy meat content. Equally disappointing were the Bauhaus style cutlery dispensers, inappropriately placed next to ‘Sizzle Bento.’ A more suitable method of condiment display, I felt, could be found in many modern venues around Canberra:


Skipping the entrée sized chicken nuggets preferred by diners slavishly adhering to the a la carte menu at Kingsley’s, I pursued the main course first, opting for a mid-size Bento box with petals of shaved ginger and rosette of Wasabi. This dish was nicely complemented by the delicate ‘Wild Berry’ coloured Slush Puppy, which I selected after a lengthy decision making process, accompanied by some gentle prodding from the maître d'.


For dessert, we decided to sample the exquisite patisserie items from KFC’s exciting new range of Sara Lee cheesecakes and, while the dining experience was enhanced by a delightful al fresco setting with views across the car park, I still wonder whether the Chocolate Bavarian flavour coupled with no-name lemonade beverage was ultimately too subtle for the common palate.

As with all fine dining experiences, the hosts were able to infuse the Food Court with an ambience of relaxed sophistication. The presence of Irene from Home and Away, diligently filling orders at a nearby tobacconist, certainly impressed upon me (if I needed any further convincing) that it IS possible to marry Oriental chic with quaint Summer Bay charm – not least, in Woden valley. All things considered, I give the Woden Food Court minus two and a half Michelin stars. My dining companion quibbled with the half star rating on the way back to the car park – but, as I told him (quietly, once we were in the car), the assault on the collective senses occasioned by the experimental lighting display near the entrance warranted nothing less.



[Editor's note: Many more wonderful photographs were taken on this jaunt. Stay tuned for "The Secret Life of JB Hi-Fi" and "Woden Folk feat. Geri Halliwell and Lynne McGregor (Supre's Newsagency Mix)"]

Russian lesbians set to hit Canberra once more!

Fake Russian lesbians will rule the world once more. And, Canberra being a significant part of the world means that tATu will ("will" meaning highly unlikely that they will, but in an ideal world will) be hitting the Canberra Theatre on 1 December 2005. They will perform an epic showcase concert complete with miming and live sequences, Richard Carpenter will guest on guitar and Trevor Horn will be driving them around. Canberra teens will riot otside the Park Hyatt Canberra while Julia and Lena pretend to have sex and break stuff inside. It will be momentous.


The song itself is All About Us. I have obtained a 30 second clip that is supposedly what the Japanese management released as a mobile ring tone. It sounds amazing WITHOUT bass. What will it be like WITH bass? It sounds like All The Things She Said mixed with a touch of ABBA and a pinch of Sugababes.

ANALYSIS: Swedes very apologetic:

Is it possible that Swedish songwriters are over-apologetic? Do they apologise more than their fare share? Do they have reason to apologise so much?

Swedes make unquestionably the greatest pop music to grace the latter period of the 20th century and continue to do so today. What do they have to apologise for? Making the rest of the planet feel bad for not being as good at them at it?

Da Buzz and the A*Teens are a couple of the most apologetic groups to stem from Sweden. An analysis of their most lyrically regretful tracks follow:

Da Buzz Sorry Baby

This track was passed on to PopGoesCanberrra by the amazing Fop. It starts with a very sorry "ha-ah aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh." Definitely the kind of self-condemantory noise one makes when they are sorry. A truly shamefacedly brilliant into follows with a soft "sorry sorry" becoming a huge wall-of-sound style "SORRY BABY!", setting the theme for the rest of the track.

The lovely blonde from Da Buzz, we learn, is "lying flat out on my bed" as she ponders how very heavyhearted she feels about the whole situation. She's "thinking about the things" she said. Apparently she went "this time too far." It's all about the usual Swedish misunderstandings, trying to rush things, etc, etc. The chorus arrives with a wollomph of a "SORRY BABY!" She's said some things she didn't mean and it seems that this guy's heart is broken. Snapped in two, perhaps! Oh dear.

It all continues like that right up until the very Da Buzz middle 8 where she asks the guy to forgive her, followed by the computerisedy voices of the Dz Buzz boys. When you hear them, you know things are very serious.

It all ends with a big "SORRY BABY!" How much can one really apologise! All this is a bit too direct, one could criticise, and doesn't really explain why she is sorry, where is she coming from. For that reason, Sorry Baby must come a close second to another track....

A-Teens For All That I Am

Pure guilt-ridden brilliance, but with crystal-clear shades of over-wrought "it's going to be OK" happiness. Add in what sounds like a Swedish Christmas Gay Gospel Choir, a key-change, Britney "Stronger"/"Lucky" style middle-8/chorus bit, and you have an amazingly apologetic pop track.

It all starts off with a few casual crisp "sorry, made you feel sorry"s. But then the story telling starts. You picture the evil A-Teens coming home late to the Swedish summer house. The grumptious mother is standing there in her dressing gown, wondering, do my South American pop scene conquering teenagers really love me? Should I really love them she says? Should I only love the money-making booty shaking bits, or the should I love ALL OF THEM? Even the coming home "bugged me" bits? So really, this song is coming from two points of view, not just the A-Teens' aspect, but the parents'!!!!!!

It gets dramatic. It really does. I'm getting shivers just writing this. It has pretty "I know" and "that I love you" chiming in bits....but that's just the start! There are woooshy bits in the middle of the second verse. You can feel the frustration of the miscommunication that takes place in pubescent Sweden!!!! "What I'm trying to say!" She's trying to say it, but is it getting across? That is the question. Then the pretty, regretful, "deep down" bit, then then the "heat comes down" - this is getting serious. What kind of heat do they experience in Sweden? Climate-wise, nothing severe. This is emotional heat. The A-Teens' parents will be there for them. But these kids feel sooo bad about the way they've treated them, that they are willing to say sorry! And to ASK the parents to continue loving them! Isn't that WONDERFUL??? You won't hear that going on in Ricki-Lee's "Hell No." It's all hate. Hate hate hate.

It doesn't stop there. No. More cheesy sad guitar, some "oooooh-oooh--ooooh " and the choir comes in! A nerve-shimmering "Sorry! Made you feel sorry!" and a repeat of the chorus till the end. It's truly inspirational. The kids voices only just make it. This is desperation. And that's the end. We don't KNOW what happens! The kids grow up into well adjusted adults with their New Arrival, etc, so we can assume that their family lives managed to cope with this drama.

Anyway, the point is, these two "Sorry" tracks are great examples of Swedish apologeticness and there really is never too much apologising in this world.

Canberra's Cock(ington) is Green says Robyn

PopGoesCanberra for the first time welcomes guest writer. She's a full-time servant of the Public, and part-time Swedish Robyn of "Be Mine" and "Show Me Love" fame impersonator.

Oompa Loompa, Oompa-di-doo. Cockington Green, open from Mondays to mini-Mondays, is a wonderful interlude on the Canberra miniature theme park itinerary. ‘Strange,’ I thought, as we wandered past the miniature turnstile in the miniature entry, after paying the not-so-miniature admission fee, ‘This place looks so much smaller than when I was here last...’ Ahh, like sand through the hourglass… Like all those things that were wondrous and normal sized when you were a toddler, now they’re miniature and – strangely camp. I couldn’t help but wonder, as we gazed over the miniature English scene before us, what the bus-load of Chinese tourists who entered before us made of all this miniature stuff. Seems a bit odd, surely, for the nation’s capital to have an English village scene painstakingly reproduced in miniature on its outskirts. And the ‘Australian architectural icons’ in the ‘International’ section. Sounds like a country ready to snap, if you ask me. But, miniature camera poised, I rushed headlong into the Lilliputian world, ready to conquer any miniature obstacles in my path.

The first one was the rather crudely placed sign, surrounded by miniature Australian flags, announcing that the PRIME CAUSE of all damage to Cockington Green was perpetrated by children. While we reeled back in shock at these statistics – otherwise known as THE FACTS – I paused to consider that this miniature world was not, in fact, built with a juvenile clientele in mind. Juvenile in spirit maybe, I thought to myself, as I kicked over a Cornish village and turned to survey the Kentish Oast house. Yes, you read correctly: ‘Oast.’ Built to house oats, according to the miniature signage. No one ever accused the British of having miniature brains, did they? In fact, looking over at all the wee little houses, stuffed with tiny people falling out of the windows in various stages of undress, it suddenly dawned on me why my ancestors decided to emigrate from England in the first place. Too cramped, obviously. Too cosy. Too quaint.

Swiftly maneuvering our way past the miniature bog and miniature housing project, we paused by the miniature British Rail train, marooned half a metre from the local Cockington Green station. ‘Mind the gap,’ I quipped half-drunkenly to myself, taking another tiny gulp from my miniature bottle of Baileys. ‘Look! A bee in a flower,’ shrieked my mother, training her camera on a gigantic insect. Momentarily unaware that the bee was the same size as the animals grazing on the lawn nearby, we crowded around the ordinary spectacle, attracting a large group of Chinese onlookers, recording the event with their minicams. Embarrassed by the attention, I scurried over to the miniature Stonehenge installation, where tiny druids sipped mulled wine and drew truncated straws to see who was sacrificed next. Ritual murder on my mind, I pushed past the infants in blocking my path and tripped up the stairs to decode the mini-maze, trimmed by hand (according to the sign) with nail scissors and tweezers. ‘Shudder to think of the sciatica,’ murmured my mother, grimacing, ‘And the arthritis…the RSI.’ Yes indeed – occupational health and safety – an issue for the miniature theme park workers of the country. What’s their union called, anyway? The miscellaneous miniature model-makers and associated shrunken and sundry workers?

Social commentary is never far from ones mind when traversing Cockington Green – this was all too clear as we paused in front of the ball match, replete with soccer hooligans, streaker and overtures from the Barmy Army on miniature loudspeakers. The fox hunting diorama followed, just around the corner, and we flushed with embarrassment at the scene depicting a black ball-boy scurrying after a shuttlecock on the badminton green. ‘Not to worry,’ we cheered ourselves, ‘the International section is over yonder.’ And there it was: enough bonsai trees to make Mr Miyagi snap his chopsticks in excitement. I couldn’t help but pluck out the camera and capture the scenes before me: a diminutive Slovenian farmhouse, miniature Croatian castle, tiny Lithuanian village. ‘Present this to the next Schengen visa rule-making committee,’ I thought to myself, ‘there’s no way they won’t let you in!’ Charming. Simply charming. Tiny trains puffed past, belching tiny clouds of smoke into the atmosphere, and I began to lose all the inhibitions of the EU member states’ installations. Rushing headlong into a made-to-measure Columbian village scene, my dad raised one eyebrow and quipped (loudly) ‘Bet it’s not just coffee they’re harvesting there, eh? More likely a bit of the old marching powder!’ Only to have the slightly dark woman standing behind us sigh loudly and remark (in an obviously Columbian accent – not that I would know) ‘Oh, this scene makes me homesick.’

Cheeks burning, we turned to the more obviously narcotically inspired Inca temple, the Bhuddist worshipful installation, and the blatantly offensive South African villa. ‘Good to see that racism has a place in the miniature world,’ I thought to myself, and made a mental note for my future memoirs: ‘Cockington Green combines the grimly ironic with the morbidly amusing.’ Yes, that about sums it up. The miniature servings of food in the miniature café followed next, although I note the miniature human at the table next to me produced not-so-miniature shrieks and squeals while I tried to focus on the gift shop. Much to my disgust, the fridge magnet purchased by my father for $4.95 managed to disappear among the tiny (empty) bottles of alcohol in my pocket and I spent the next half hour scrabbling about on my hands and knees in the car park, looking for it. Then ransacking the campervan while my parents looked on in miniature middle-aged bemusement. ‘Some people just don’t get it’ I thought ruefully. And the same goes for Cockington Green. For all the myopic viewing pleasure, I just don’t understand why they don’t butch it up a bit. Sideline the St Mary Mead diorama, I reckon, it’s time to step it up a notch. For my part, I’d like to suggest a miniature Pine Gap military installation, or a miniature Lucas Heights nuclear reactor. Hell – let’s go with a miniature LNG refinery – just to show the Chinese what we’re all about. A scale model of the Big Banana wouldn’t go astray, either. And a miniature Big Pineapple just for good measure. Dare I say it? A miniature Giant Earthworm? It’s all a bit academic, really, isn’t it? A bit academic.

PopGoesCanberra EXCLUSIVE: Chanel, Tiffani and In-Grid tell ALL on their South Coast hideaway!

EXCLUSIVE: After the revelation on Fop that Chanel Cole, Tiffani Wood and In-Grid have moved in together, CFBGoesPop revealed that not only were they living together, but they were living together in a flat!

Now PopGoesCanberra can reveal that Chanel, Tiffani and In-Grid also have a sublime NSW South Coast GETAWAY. You may have seen its modern, angular design before on the reverse of the A*Teens Teen Spirit album cover. That's right. Chanel, Tiffani and In-Grid's country estate was used by the A*Teens when they visited Australia to take shots for their Teen Spirit album cover. That's not the only connection they have with the Swedish foursome. The A*Teens producers are now leasing the home to the girls in the hope that their inspiration will flow and a new Aussie/Mediterrannean girl group with a Swedish flavour will be formed! But have the hopes instilled in the Swedish pop svengalis' lease agreement reaped rewards? The girls tell all....



Chanel Cole reclines in a sumptuous lounge chair whose creamy tones would not be out of place underneath the ample girth of Maggie Tabberer. She looks out over her homeland, the lush, green Bega Valley. "I love this place. The cheese. The photographics shop. The cows. But now it's a lot more. It's like...I've found my place...with these two girls." She pauses. She has a certain air about her. A freshness that wasn't to be found in any other Idol finalists, nor in the likes of Hayley Aitkin, Brooke McClymont or Hannah of No Relief fame. An originality that would certainly work wonders in a new Australo Swedish "Med" trio.

Tiffani Wood sighs as she stands on the deck that sits high above the shiny grass that Rex Hunt mows once a week. "Rex and I met at the Bega Cup. I saw the fire in his eyes. Maybe it was the devil in his soul. It wasn't love. It was a connection that just said to me, 'You must mow my lawn.' And so he did."



There is a certain bitterness that Tiffani tries to hide, but PopGoesCanberra sees through it. We ask her about the choice to release the crappy rock version of her new single. "It wasn't what I wanted. I wanted the pop version. But it wasn't to be." I can see that tensions still run high, so I let be.



In-Grid comes out on the deck with a Campari and Orange Juice. "The oranges are from western News South Wales, the orchard district, " she notes, in her lilting Italian tones, "...but the Campari is ALL Italian." The girls laugh and giggle together. A touch of tATu? No, these girls are Red Blooded Women, "count backwards five, four, three, two, one" they chime as Rex shouts from below "I'm heading down to Tathra Wharf to catch you sheilas some big ones!" In-Grid runs to the kitchen to prepare a Mediterrannean feast that her mother back home would cook. "I miss my family. My man in his convertible. The coastline. But you know, the Australian lifestyle is not that bad. Not since I met these two." She nods her head in the direction of Chanel and Tiff. How did they meet, I ask In-Grid. "I was tango-ing alone, la la la. And then they joined in." What simplicity. She returns to her olive de-pipping and sun-dried tomato drying.

While the aperitifs are pleasant and the laughter convivial, I know there is something these girls are hiding.

"So, tell me about the music..."

Silence befalls the open-plan lounge as the lights of Bega sparkle in the distance. I can almost hear cow-bells, but cows in Australia don't wear bells.



Tiffani takes charge, as she often does. "It's scary you know. Knowing you have the next big thing in the palm of your very hands. But it's a dream excitin', and it's over ridin'." Chanel motions with her hands and her bosom bounces as she smiles excitedly. "When Daniel and I are making love on a deserted South Coast beach, I feel just...amazing. And that's the same way I feel when we're working in our studio. Making amazing pop. Think Da Buzz. Think In-Grid's previous work. Think Kate Ceberano Love Dimension. Think me on Idol. Think big baby." I laugh. I almost choke on an unshelled pistachio nut. In-Grid cuts in- "Chanel no one is supposed to savoir that we have our very own atelier here in the hills outside Bega." PopGoesCanberra speaks enough French to know that that means that these three ordinary young women are working on the most extraordinary of projects. The fusion of three art-forms. Think Chanel Cole meets Tiffani Wood meets In-Grid. In my head, as these girls bouffe their antipasto feast along with Rex's fresh snapper Napoli style, I try to fathom ways to think what these girls' musical style will be like. Swedish-Australian-French/Italian. Robyn + Kylie + Johnny Halliday? Alcazar + Missy Higgins + Gigi d'Agostino? I have a feeling that the sum will be greater than its parts.

A light knocking can be heard at the door. I feel this may be my cue to exit. I pick up my things to leave, overwhelmed at the possibilities that await the Australian recording industry. A renaissance!

Chanel answers and greets a familiar looking face. It's Shirley Clamp! Shirley and I last saw each other in Stockholm at a Christmas party, fresh off the stage. So much has happened since then, the terrible loss of Att Alska Dig at Melodifestivalen, and a career and climate change, doing the weather and kids TV for Prime in country New South Wales. "Hej" she manages to exclaim in delight, shocked from seeing me at her friends' pad. "How do you ladeez know each other?" I ask. "She's doing backing vocals for our album" they chime as they kiss, Mediterranean style of course. They don't even notice as I slip out the door, my heat beating like a drum. Dam Dam Dam.