A Fresh Take on a Forgotten Category

When Tash Scutts set out to create LOVEBYT, she wasn’t just launching another toothpaste brand—she was challenging an entire category that, for decades, had gone largely unquestioned.

Founded in 2018, LOVEBYT was born from a simple but overlooked idea: oral care products should be as thoughtfully designed, health-conscious, and aesthetically pleasing as the rest of the items people proudly display in their homes.

For Scutts, the name itself—playful and memorable—was part of the disruption. But the real ambition ran deeper: to deliver a product that matched the performance of mainstream toothpaste while eliminating ingredients she believed consumers should think twice about.

“I wanted to make a toothpaste with the same user experience… but with much better ingredients,” she explained.

From Fashion Floors to Bathroom Shelves

Tash Scutts did not come from a scientific or dental background. Instead, her career spanned textiles, furniture, and, most notably, fashion—where she worked as a buyer in a highly competitive industry.

That experience proved critical.

Fashion taught Tash how to build products that stand out, respond quickly to change, and connect with consumers. It also sharpened her understanding of branding—an insight she would later apply to an unlikely category.

“I learned… you have to create a product really well, and you have to market that product really well,” she said.

The transition into oral care came unexpectedly. Prompted by her daughters’ vegan lifestyles, Tash began searching for suitable toothpaste options—only to find products that felt uninspiring in both taste and presentation.

That gap became her opportunity.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Jacob Ghaffer arrived in Australia in 2014 at the age of fourteen, leaving behind a life in Pakistan that many would consider privileged. His father held a senior role in the police, and their household was supported by staff who managed daily routines. Beneath that comfort, however, was a family environment marked by ongoing conflict between his parents.

The turning point came when Jacob’s mother decided to leave the marriage. She gave her children a choice, and Jacob, along with his siblings, chose to go with her. What followed was a tense and calculated departure—retrieving passports in secret, preparing documents without his father’s knowledge, and quietly leaving the country. By the time his father discovered what had happened, they were already in Australia.

At first, the move felt exciting. The new environment brought a sense of possibility and change. That feeling gradually gave way to uncertainty as the reality of their situation set in. Arriving on a tourist visa and later applying for asylum meant living without stability. As time passed, Jacob began to feel the emotional impact of separation from his father. Years later, encouraged by relatives, he reconnected with him. The conversation was emotional, but ultimately positive, offering a sense of resolution.

Adjusting to life in Australia presented significant challenges. Entering the school system with limited English, Jacob was placed in an Intensive English Centre, which set him apart from other students. He experienced bullying and struggled to find his place socially. Over time, he developed resilience, gradually improving his language skills and confidence.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Saskia Havekes has spent more than three decades working with flowers, though she feels the word floristry no longer fully captures what she does. She sees herself as a floral director, even a sculptor, shaping space and emotion with blooms. Over the years, the industry has evolved dramatically, and Saskia has evolved with it, continually redefining how flowers can be experienced beyond the traditional bouquet.She grew up in Kenthurst on the edge of bushland in northwest Sydney, in a house her Dutch immigrant father built overlooking a valley of angophoras and flannel flowers. The home was open and unconventional, filled with artists, architects and lively gatherings. Her father was a painter and potter, and her mother taught her the names of flowers and how to garden. With flower painters in the family and a strong European heritage, creativity and nature were inseparable parts of her childhood. Although she began her professional life in advertising and later worked in publishing and television in the United States, she was always drawn back to flower markets and flower shops. They remained a constant pull.When Saskia returned to Sydney after her marriage ended, she briefly enrolled in formal floristry training but found it too rigid and traditional. After a year, she left to learn from a mentor who encouraged her to break conventions. That decision shaped the direction of Grandiflora. Her early career in advertising sharpened her understanding of branding, but it is the ritual of the flower market that still defines her practice. Rising before dawn, selecting stems alongside trusted growers and maintaining those relationships has become both discipline and devotion.Working with flowers means navigating the full spectrum of human emotion.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Competition in the employment market has intensified, with graduates, overseas students, career changers and experienced professionals all competing for attention in a crowded digital landscape. As an HR business partner, Garth McMurtrie sees firsthand how small details determine who progresses and who is overlooked. In his experience, success rarely depends on dramatic tactics. More often, it comes down to executing the fundamentals with precision and intent.

In his role, Garth supports senior leaders in delivering on their people and talent strategies, with a strong focus on recruitment at senior levels. Reviewing applications has shown him that many candidates miss simple yet critical opportunities to position themselves effectively. Standing out is less about gimmicks and more about clarity, alignment and preparation.

LinkedIn is one of the most powerful tools available to job seekers, yet it is frequently underutilized. Garth observes that many people treat it as a static online resume when it should function as a dynamic personal brand platform. A strong profile communicates more than job titles. It presents interests, values and professional direction. Sharing insights, engaging with relevant content and building meaningful connections all contribute to greater visibility. Recruiters and HR professionals spend significant time on LinkedIn, and an active presence can influence hiring outcomes.

The same principle applies to resumes. Simply listing roles in chronological order is not enough. Garth advises that a resume should clearly articulate strengths, achievements and measurable impact. Dense blocks of text make it difficult for hiring managers to quickly absorb key information. Clear formatting, concise language and logical structure increase the likelihood that important details will stand out. Visual presentation matters because many reviewers initially skim before committing to a deeper read.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In the second episode of the podcast featuring the Rivkin Private Wealth Group trilogy, Lindsay Huynh, Head of Self-Managed Superannuation Services, brought clarity and depth to the evolving world of SMSFs. With more than eight years of experience, Lindsay outlined why this sector continues to demand attention, adaptability, and strong technical expertise. Constant legislative change keeps the space dynamic, requiring professionals not only to stay informed but also to translate complex regulations into practical strategies clients can understand and apply.

Lindsay explained that self-managed superannuation funds are not simply compliance structures. They represent a balance of tax planning, wealth creation, and long-term strategic thinking. Unlike retail or industry super funds, where investment options are largely predetermined, an SMSF gives trustees direct control. They decide how contributions are invested, which asset classes are appropriate, and how the overall strategy aligns with personal financial goals.This level of control and transparency is increasingly resonating with younger generations. Lindsay has observed a noticeable shift in engagement, with younger clients wanting to understand not just that their balance has grown, but why it has grown. Each investment decision is deliberate. Each gain or loss reflects strategy rather than default allocation. That visibility encourages accountability and active involvement in long-term financial planning.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Breaking Patterns and Returning to the Heart

Alexis Hannagan joined the conversation from Chiang Mai, a mountain town in northern Thailand, where she is spending time immersed in Buddhist culture and preparing to sit with monks in meditation. This period of travel is deeply personal. After losing her mother, Alexis recognised the need to step back, grieve, and process while still honouring the work she does. She believes that to truly guide others, she must be living the practices herself rather than simply speaking about them.

Through The Sanctuary Australia, Alexis supports women and men in transforming their mind, body, and soul. Many people arrive carrying blocks such as anxiety, stress, fear, lack of confidence, or confusion around purpose. Her work focuses on guiding people back to their heart so they can reconnect with their truth and live from that place. This approach is grounded in lived experience rather than theory.

Her path did not begin in the wellness space. Alexis studied commerce and marketing and worked in corporate roles in London with international brands. From the outside, her career appeared successful, but internally she felt anxious, drained, and disconnected. At the time, she lacked the awareness to trust those feelings and believed something was wrong with her. Over time, she came to understand that her intuition was signalling that she did not belong in that environment.

Daily practice became the turning point. Kundalini yoga, breathwork, chanting, and meditation helped Alexis retrain her nervous system. Anxiety, low confidence, and PTSD linked to childhood experiences gradually eased. She explains that these practices work at the level of energy and the nervous system, not just the mind. Everyone brings a frequency into the world, whether it is stress or presence, and that frequency can be consciously trained.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Joe Cooper grew up around cosmetics long before he ever imagined creating his own brand. His mother spent her entire career working with companies such as The Body Shop and Clinique, so creams, fragrances, and lotions were part of everyday life. Later, while studying, Joe worked at Lush, and years after that he moved into the corporate side of the industry with Wella, where he combined cosmetics with his professional background in education and learning development. In retrospect, the transition from corporate life to running a cosmetics brand was far more natural than it might appear.

The defining moment that clarified why Kindly by Joe needed to exist came when Joe was hospitalised and seriously unwell. A friend brought him a gift basket filled with chocolates and biscuits that he was unable to eat. What he could experience, however, were the scented products inside: creams, perfumes, shampoo, and conditioner. In a sterile hospital room, those scents shifted the entire atmosphere. They offered comfort, escape, and a sense of calm when very little else could.

That experience became the foundation of Kindly by Joe. The brand is fragrance-led and built around the idea that scent and texture can elevate the small rituals people repeat every day. Washing hair, applying moisturiser, lighting a candle, or putting on deodorant are not purely functional acts. They are sensory moments that can influence mood, memory, and overall wellbeing in subtle but powerful ways.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Thomas Mezger never planned on becoming a model. For much of his early life, his focus was on sport, education, and managing a body that often felt unpredictable. Modelling entered his world almost by accident in his late teens, when a photographer invited him into a studio for a test shoot. He agreed with little expectation, and from that moment doors began to open. At the same time, Thomas was learning how to live and work with epilepsy in an industry defined by image, pressure, and perfection.

Born in Sydney, Thomas left Australia at the age of three when his father accepted a job in Singapore. His childhood unfolded across international schools in Singapore and Hong Kong, shaped largely by American-based education systems. That upbringing exposed him to multiple cultures and languages and strongly influenced how he communicates and connects with others. His accent shifts depending on who he is with, reflecting a life spent adapting to different environments. He speaks Mandarin, some Spanish, and German, and language has long been a bridge for understanding people quickly and intuitively.

Over the years, Thomas has worked with brands such as Calvin Klein, Givenchy, Karl Lagerfeld, Venroy, and David Jones, walked Australian Fashion Week, and appeared in international runway shows, including one in his hometown of Hong Kong. A modelling career spanning around fifteen years is rare, particularly in Australia. He attributes that longevity to determination, resilience, and his ability to build rapport. In a highly competitive global industry, he believes connection and trust are just as important as appearance.

Behind the scenes, Thomas’s life has always been shaped by epilepsy. At eighteen months old, he was diagnosed with meningitis and meningococcal disease and nearly lost his life. A few years later, he began experiencing seizures. During childhood, medication allowed him to live relatively normally, but everything shifted during adolescence as his body changed and treatments stopped working. Doctors entered years of trial and error, and school became increasingly difficult. Stress could trigger seizures, and seizures brought memory loss, exhaustion, and confusion. Isolation followed, along with a sense of being misunderstood by those who could not see what he was dealing with.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Rozz Switzer: Three Decades of Connection on Television

Building a career in television was never something that happened overnight for Rozz. It began in high school in Brisbane, when her mother enrolled her in a June Dally-Watkins deportment course during the school holidays. What started as lessons in etiquette quickly opened the door to modelling, performance, and an industry Rozz immediately felt drawn to. Learning how to walk, be photographed, and attend auditions sparked an early ambition that would shape the next three decades of her life.

Rozz went on to study at a Centre of Artistic Development, focusing on music, dance, and drama, while simultaneously working in commercials and modelling roles for brands such as Speedo and Japanese catalogues. After finishing school, she attended university and completed a degree in education with a focus on drama, film, and television, following her parents’ advice to secure a reliable fallback career. During this time, she also picked up acting roles in Australian soap operas filmed on the Gold Coast, gaining valuable experience on professional sets.

Despite those opportunities, Rozz quickly realised acting was not where she felt most comfortable. The instability of the work and the heavy emphasis on appearance did not align with her long-term goals. That clarity arrived just as she auditioned for an Ab Roller advertorial filmed alongside Bert Newton. Securing that role became a turning point, with regular flights between Brisbane and Sydney to record multiple advertisements in a single day. It was here that Rozz found her niche in direct response television

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

 Podcasters Mary #01 - Dani #10 - Scott #16 - Adriana #20 celebrate Christmas 2025.

Our panel of podcasters share how they celebrate Christmas and how their personal cultural upbringing has shaped the way we celebrate Christmas today.

The anthem 'i am Australian' original by The Seekers, resonates in this dialogue as to how Australia is a blend of many cultures and how fortunate we are to have these influences blending to form our own 'Äustralian' version of the 'Christmas Cracker'.

Wishing Everyone a very Safe and Merry Christmas 2025 and a Happy, Healthy, Prosperous New Year.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Sitting down with Bill Dowzer offered a rare chance to follow a career that has stretched from the abattoir plains of Homebush to the dense streets of Manhattan.

What struck me first was the ease with which he moved through each chapter of his life, describing his early days placing barrels on a future Olympic boulevard, then shifting seamlessly into interior design, workplace strategy, public buildings and global practice leadership. His account of BVN reaching its hundred-year milestone highlighted how a firm survives by constantly reshaping itself and nurturing a culture where good design and good people are inseparable.

Hearing how his career began in the 1990s with the Sydney Olympics revealed the scale he was exposed to from the very start. The stadium, the tennis centre and the entire master plan formed the backdrop to his early professional education. Yet he shifted later into projects like the MLC Campus, which challenged workplace conventions and explored how personality and user experience can transform daily life. As he explained the shift from cubicles to environments that uplift wellbeing, it became clear that his view of design has always been about people, not just buildings.

His years in New York brought a completely different perspective.

Running BVN’s small studio inside WeWork’s headquarters forced him to rethink what a practice could be. The pandemic then flipped everything on its head. With no work and a city boarded up in fear after the death of George Floyd, Bill and his team found themselves walking together each day, noticing piles of plywood destined for landfill.

That simple observation sparked rePly Furniture, built on reclaiming discarded material and turning it into outdoor dining structures so restaurants could operate on the street.

Listening to him describe collecting plywood in a U-Haul, storing it up three flights of stairs and building prototypes in the West Village made the venture feel audacious, scrappy and profoundly human.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Randa Habelrih’s work in the disability space began with her son Richard. From the early years, she saw how a child could be dismissed, misunderstood and excluded long before anyone took the time to listen. Before Richard’s autism diagnosis, her concerns were brushed aside, and after the diagnosis she was told to expect very little from him. What stayed constant was a system focused on deficits rather than strengths, reflected in repeated school rejections and the bullying Richard endured from children and adults.

Australia’s disability education laws promise access, but Randa realised how rarely those promises translate into practice. Teachers were overwhelmed, under-resourced and under-trained, leaving families like hers battling for support that should have been automatic. Today, many parents still come to her with the same struggles—schools declining enrolments, withholding support or making children feel unwelcome in environments meant for them.

These realities shaped the foundation of Autism Mates. Randa wanted families to have a community where they could learn, connect and feel supported. The organisation began with parent groups, school education initiatives and social events to give young people a place where they belonged. But as Richard finished school, another gap became impossible to ignore: despite his abilities and interests, there was no pathway for him. She also saw how absent people with disabilities were from the media, despite representing a significant part of the population.

From that need came Model Mates. Randa wanted young people with disabilities to be seen on a platform that commanded attention, and fashion provided that stage. Their first runway event at Castle Towers revealed how powerful simple visibility could be. With basic styling and a single practice session, participants stood taller and radiated confidence because they were valued and treated with respect.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In 2015 she opened Martine Gallery, a space that became both an artistic home and a platform for raising awareness of mitochondrial disease.

Her dedication to this cause is deeply personal. Martine’s youngest son, Tom, was born with mitochondrial disease, a condition that deprives the body’s cells of energy and can lead to organ failure.

When he was diagnosed at just two years old, doctors did not expect him to survive. Over the years he underwent more than fifty operations, yet he grew into a healthy young man who has consistently overcome the odds.

At four years old, the condition began affecting Tom’s eyes. Tests revealed he had only ten percent retinal function remaining, and Martine was told that blindness was inevitable.

Refusing to accept that no solution existed, she began researching relentlessly, contacting researchers across the world from Russia to America and even NASA.

Her search led her to studies showing the benefits of LED therapy on mice with similar retinal degeneration. With that knowledge, she raised funds to build a custom LED light bed with 2,500 diodes across five spectrums. Tom used it daily for two years, and follow-up tests revealed ninety-eight percent retinal function.

The improvement astonished everyone involved.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In discussing Conscious Home Design, Talor offers a perspective that expands far beyond materials or trends. People often assume the concept is tied to sustainability, yet Talor’s work centers on crafting environments that support daily habits, personal goals and meaningful relationships. His approach applies to any type of home, regardless of size, age or architectural style. What matters to him is how well a space aligns with the way someone actually lives.

A guiding influence for Talor is the long-running Harvard study on adult happiness, which shows that relationships are the strongest predictors of wellbeing. This research inspires him to consider how architecture can foster stronger connections—whether with other people, with oneself or with nature. Over the years, he has identified three categories of relationships: reciprocal, receiving and giving. These relationships shift through different life stages, but Talor aims to design homes that create opportunities for all three to thrive.

The pandemic highlighted the importance of this approach. As people spent more time at home, many discovered that their spaces failed to support working, resting or connecting. Some lacked functional offices, others struggled with noise and privacy, and many families felt the strain of inadequate layouts. Talor watched this pressure spark a major building boom, a reminder of how deeply our environments influence our wellbeing.

He often guides clients through home changes that reflect shifting phases of life—growing families, empty nests or evolving careers. With remote work now widespread, Talor emphasises that home offices must function effectively, offering professionalism, privacy and thoughtful backdrops for video communication. He understands how a simple design choice can impact confidence and relationships in subtle but powerful ways.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Speaking with Jock Evans from the Rivkin Group reinforced how closely our sense of security is tied to financial understanding. His calm, practical approach to planning made it clear that financial advice isn’t reserved for the wealthy—it’s a tool for anyone who wants to feel in control today and confident about tomorrow.

Jock began his career in accounting before realising that he wanted to help people look forward, not backward. That desire to create progress led him into financial planning, where he found the most satisfaction in working directly with people—hearing their stories, understanding their challenges, and finding ways to make their goals achievable.

He described a financial planner as part coach, part strategist—someone who bridges the worlds of accounting, law, and investment management to help clients make informed decisions. Every client, he explained, is different. Some are building wealth for future generations, others are ensuring they have enough to retire comfortably. His role is to listen first, then create strategies that fit each person’s reality.

One of the misconceptions Jock often encounters is that financial advice is expensive or unnecessary unless you have substantial assets. He explained that most firms, including Rivkin, offer an initial consultation at no cost or obligation. It’s simply an opportunity to talk, assess your current position, and see whether there’s value to be gained. Sometimes clients discover they’re already on track; other times, a few small adjustments make a significant difference.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

From the moment I first heard Prue MacSween speak, her candour was striking. She has lived a life defined by words—spoken, written, and defended fiercely. Her story begins in the school debating team, where a love of English and communication was clear from the start. Even then, her outspokenness cost her the school captaincy after she defended a classmate she felt was unfairly treated. It set the tone for a life lived with conviction.

After leaving school, she landed a cadetship at a suburban newspaper, studied marketing and advertising at Sydney Tech, and contributed to 2UE radio. Her mother soon spotted a small classified ad for a television hostess role in Townsville. Prue auditioned among a thousand hopefuls, impressed Ken Sutcliffe, and won the job. The move to Townsville launched her into a whirlwind of broadcasting—reading news, presenting weather, hosting children’s shows, and running current affairs segments. She described it as a chaotic but invaluable training ground that demanded versatility, creativity, and grit.

Her next opportunity came when Channel 9’s Gerald Stone saw a tape of her work and offered her a newsroom role in Sydney. Surrounded by giants like Peter Harvey, Ian Ross, and Brian Henderson, she was the only woman in the room. Her early assignments were trivial, but she absorbed everything, determined to prove her worth. Adopting what she called “one of the blokes” mentality helped her navigate the male-dominated newsroom while honing her listening skills—something she attributes partly to her childhood spent in a wheelchair after hip surgery. That period taught her to observe people deeply and empathise with those overlooked.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

When Dawood Odeh speaks about finance, it’s not with the cold detachment many associate with money talk. His message is simple but transformative: financial structure isn’t just about numbers—it’s about lifestyle design. In this second conversation of his trilogy, the focus turns to how mortgages and money management can actively shape wellbeing, relationships, and even happiness.

Dawood begins by reframing a mortgage as more than a debt. It’s one of the biggest financial decisions people make, and depending on how it’s structured, it can either restrict or liberate. To demonstrate, he describes three distinct life situations that show how a mortgage can align with lifestyle goals.

The first example is someone who seeks peace over possessions. They’re not chasing luxury cars or holiday homes but value calm, modest living. For them, financial wellbeing comes from paying off their home as soon as possible. Their ideal mortgage is simple and low-cost, allowing extra repayments when money permits. This kind of financial clarity brings mental ease and better sleep—the satisfaction of knowing exactly when the debt will end and freedom will begin.

The second example contrasts sharply. It’s the ambitious worker who wants to build wealth fast and retire young. This person embraces complexity and uses debt strategically. Multiple offset accounts, split loans, and leveraged equity form their financial toolkit. They invest in properties, using the rising value of each to buy the next. Dawood shares the story of a couple in their thirties who’ve already acquired eight properties and plan to retire early by selling a few to clear debt while living off rental income. It’s a structured path to freedom that relies on using the system intelligently rather than being constrained by it.

The third example focuses on retirees who’ve paid off their homes but find their wealth locked in bricks and mortar. Their challenge is enjoying retirement without losing the home they love. Dawood explains how a reverse mortgage can unlock that value. Instead of paying the bank, the bank pays them—either through a lump sum or regular payments. The debt grows slowly over time and is repaid when the home is sold. This allows retirees to stay in familiar surroundings while having the funds to live well and support family.

Beyond mortgages, Dawood discusses how equity—the value built up in a property—can be used intentionally to improve life rather than simply accumulate more debt. He illustrates this with three stories. One family uses equity to extend their home instead of moving, gaining space and peace without unnecessary costs. Another invests in a rental apartment, creating an extra income stream and future stability. The third is Dawood’s own experience: using equity from his first property to fund the early stages of his mortgage broking business. It allowed him to leave an unfulfilling corporate job and create a career that aligned with his personal values and lifestyle goals.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In Spain, surrounded by filmmakers and storytellers at the Evolution Mallorca International Film Festival, filmmaker and creative director Tatjana Green reflected on how stories take shape. For more than a decade, this festival has been one of her creative homes—a place where directors, producers, and visionaries gather not just to celebrate film, but to share a deeper passion for human connection.

Her production company, Brought To You By, was founded on a simple idea: to recognize everyone who contributes to the making of a story. Green created it in response to an industry culture that often credited only those at the top. The name itself serves as a reminder that creativity is collaborative—it is brought to audiences by the collective.

That belief in collaboration has shaped her career since the beginning. Raised in Canada with European roots, Green traveled often with her family, crossing between cultures and absorbing the stories people carried with them. Those early experiences fostered her fascination with global storytelling and later influenced her approach to filmmaking and advertising.

Contact the Show

We always love to hear from our listeners.

To get in touch please email john@eussen.com.au

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

When I spoke with mortgage broker Dawood Odeh from Unifi Capital, one thing became immediately clear—our financial health and mental wellbeing are deeply connected. Dawood explained that a mortgage broker does far more than arrange home loans. They assist with everything from car and personal loans to commercial finance, covering the full spectrum of borrowing needs. What struck me was his emphasis on structure. It’s not the amount of debt that determines stress, he said, but how predictable and organized our finances are. Those who understand their repayments and maintain buffers tend to be calmer, even with larger loans, while those who “wing it” often feel trapped.

Money, as Dawood pointed out, isn’t just numbers on a statement. It represents security and freedom, and when that sense of control slips, stress creeps into every part of life. He admitted he’s not immune—stress can make him skip workouts and reach for comfort food. It was a relatable confession that highlighted how financial tension can manifest in our health, relationships, and even eating habits.

Dawood’s main message was clear: planning is everything. Whether it’s how to use the savings from a drop in interest rates or how to structure household expenses, strategy makes the difference between calm and chaos. He encourages people to sort their finances into essentials, lifestyle, and future goals. Subscriptions and small, recurring expenses often go unnoticed but can easily drain a budget. Facing these realities, he said, isn’t about judgment; it’s about taking back control.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Barewolf Clinic has become a pioneer in reshaping the way men approach grooming and self-care. Founded by Dully Sayed in 2011, the clinic was built on a simple yet powerful idea: men feel more comfortable being treated by men. What began as a weekend side project in his ex-wife’s hair salon has grown into a brand that has carried out more than 200,000 treatments for nearly 10,000 men.

Sayed, originally an electrician, saw early on that men often felt awkward or reluctant to return to female-led clinics. By keeping the model exclusively “for men by men,” Barewolf has built a space where clients feel at ease, treated with respect, and, as Sayed puts it, “like kings.” While the business model isn’t as commercially lucrative as unisex clinics—men traditionally spend less on beauty treatments—the strong identity has ensured loyalty and growth.

One of the clinic’s signature treatments is the BareZillian, a male-focused version of the Brazilian. Beyond aesthetics, clients report improved comfort, hygiene, and confidence. Sayed explains that most men require six to twelve treatments for long-term results, with laser sessions reducing hair by up to 80%. Many discover unexpected benefits, such as smoother skin and rejuvenation from the laser’s stimulation of collagen. For others, hair removal goes beyond preference—it can prevent medical issues like pilonidal cysts and painful ingrown hairs.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Nahji Chu was born in 1970 in Luang Prabang, Laos, into a family whose history was shaped by hardship, migration, and resilience. Her grandparents came from Vietnam and China, and her grandmother, a strong and entrepreneurial woman, made her living selling food in Hanoi during the 1930s. That resourcefulness eventually took the family to Laos, where she cooked for the royal family. It was there that Chu’s parents were born, and later, she too.

In 1975, political upheaval changed the course of her life. The communist uprising forced her family to flee. At just five years old, she endured escape, imprisonment, and time in refugee camps before arriving in Sydney in 1978. Their first home was East Hills Hostel, after which her parents were placed on a chicken farm in Cessnock. Life was difficult, marked by cultural isolation and racism, yet her mother instilled a lesson that stayed with Chu forever: as long as they could feed people, they would survive.

That philosophy guided her path. In Melbourne, she watched her aunt sell pho to Chinese doctors from a rented house, an improvised venture that became her first true exposure to the Australian hospitality industry. 

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Krissy Marsh never set out to be on television. After returning from Shanghai with her children and two dogs, she was approached on the street about joining The Real Housewives of Sydney. At first, she dismissed the idea, but her husband encouraged her to audition, insisting she was made for it. Following a lengthy interview process, she became part of the cast. What started as something to keep her occupied became a platform that allowed her to publish a cookbook, support Ronald McDonald House, and expand her passion for mentoring.

The show unfolded across two very different phases of her life. Season one aired in 2016, when her children were still young, while season two came six years later, when they were older and her husband had returned from Asia. The increased support at home made filming easier, though the production remained demanding. Marsh avoided the trolling that plagues many reality stars and insisted on being herself rather than playing a character. By season three, however, she no longer found satisfaction in the environment and chose to leave, believing that chapter had ended.

Television was just one dimension of her career. Before reality TV, Marsh built a thriving business in real estate, selling her own agency before relocating to China. There, she and her husband established Logos Property, which grew into a major industrial platform before being sold. Running the Shanghai office was a deeply personal experience that fostered bonds she still values. China remains close to her heart, though the challenges of long school commutes and the intensity of life abroad eventually drew the family back to Australia.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Guy McPhee was born in Wangaratta, Victoria, and raised on a quarter horse stud farm in Lurg, where life revolved around horses and rodeo. With parents deeply involved in the sport, he learned to ride before he could walk and was competing by the age of ten. At sixteen, he reached the national rodeo finals, following in the footsteps of his father, Gary McPhee, a legendary rodeo figure whose bucking bull Chainsaw became an icon of the sport.

By eighteen, Guy had won his first world championship in the United States, followed by a second at twenty-two. Competing internationally showed the world what an Australian cowboy could achieve on the global stage. In 1988, he broke the Australian team roping record with his partner Jamie Knox, a record that stood for more than a decade. He continued competing until the age of thirty-two before stepping into leadership as president of the Rodeo Association and later serving on the Animal Welfare Advisory Committee, where he advised the government on animal welfare in professional rodeo.

His career later took a new direction. He joined Qantas, appearing in in-flight advertorials with Deborah Hutton, which led to opportunities in the modeling industry. For over a decade he worked with Tamblyn Model Management, all while developing a career in technology and telecommunications. At fifty, Guy was diagnosed with ADHD, a revelation that explained his relentless drive to juggle multiple projects. What some saw as a challenge, he came to view as a strength that had powered his many achievements.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Michael Cleghorn describes himself as a design futurist, a title that an AI tool assigned him after analyzing his body of work in interior design and trend forecasting. He embraced it, finding that it captured both the academic rigor and creative imagination behind his practice. With AI integrated into his workflow, he has transformed his process. What once resulted in two forecasts a year has now become 24, offering clients a wide-ranging vision of how styles might evolve across homes, hotels, and workplaces.

AI, he says, doesn’t replace creativity but enhances it, providing a canvas to visualize ideas quickly and consistently. The real work lies in the edit, in shaping raw concepts into coherent aesthetics. For Michael, forecasting isn’t just about color swatches or textures—it’s about showing how trends live across the built environment, from kitchens to corporate spaces. His career path, beginning in retail and product development and culminating in consulting, gave him the credibility and experience to structure forecasting with research filters that ensure accuracy and commercial relevance.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Trish Karr, known across Sydney as “Trishy Dishy” and celebrated as the city’s party queen, has lived a life defined by resilience, reinvention, and courage. Her story begins in a modest family of five children, where her father worked multiple jobs and her mother, searching for meaning, converted to Jehovah’s Witnesses when Trish was just five years old. From that moment, birthdays and Christmases vanished, replaced by meetings at the Kingdom Hall and a childhood marked by fear of Armageddon. At school she was singled out as “the Jehovah’s Witness kid,” often excluded from class activities and teased by peers. Looking back, she believes her childhood was stolen.

By her teens, the pressure of conformity intensified. Dating and intimacy were forbidden outside of marriage, leading her to wed at just seventeen after leaving school early. She recalls sneaking into her school formal, only to be dragged out in front of her classmates by her mother. Believing obedience was the path to salvation, she was baptized into the religion and went on to have four children. When one of her sisters left the faith at seventeen, she was shunned by the family — a warning that deeply reinforced the consequences of disobedience.

For decades Trish followed the rules, but by forty, she began to see the cracks. The prophecies she had been taught failed to materialize, and her children had grown up without ever celebrating their birthdays. She gradually stopped attending meetings and witnessing, and when elders came to her door, she refused to let them in. Friends she had known for decades turned their backs on her in the street, and even her mother and siblings cut her off. The pain of losing her family was immense, but she knew she had to give her children freedom — and that conviction carried her through.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Cassandra York has spent nearly two decades refining a philosophy she calls Design Alchemy. While many may recognize her as an industry accredited, therefore qualified, Interior Designer and Architectural Draftsperson her work has long since moved beyond the standard details of Interiors and Architecture. Her latest focus—Design Neuro Architecture—is transforming how we think about the built environment and its effect on health, behavior, and even crime prevention.

Neuroarchitecture is a relatively new field of scientific enquiry, only formally recognized in the last ten years. But Cassandra has been quietly studying the science behind it for much longer. Her aim is to understand how architecture and design influence the nervous system, emotions, and overall well-being. The built environment, as she defines it, encompasses everything humans create—from interior rooms and renovated homes to community spaces and landscaped environments. Every structure has the potential to either support or compromise a person’s psychological and physical state.

Central to her approach is a deep reverence for nature. That connection has been present since childhood, when she first began observing both human and natural behavior. Personal adversity—including complex trauma experienced in childhood, adolescence and earlier adulthood—fuelled her commitment to understanding not only herself but the mechanisms behind human suffering and resilience.

Over the past fifteen years, alongside her design work, Cassandra has pursued rigorous study in neuroscience, psychology, psychiatry, and psycho neuro immunology. She’s particularly focused on the central nervous system and how its regulation, or dysregulation, underpins both chronic illness and mental health struggles. Her aim is to bring that scientific insight into the spaces people inhabit every day, designing environments that promote safety, calm, and healing.

The concept is especially meaningful for individuals living with trauma or emotional dysregulation. Cassandra knows this experience firsthand. For over thirty years, she lived with repressed memories, experiencing an internal sense that something wasn’t right but unable to articulate why. Like many, she internalized emotional struggles to avoid adversely affecting those around her. Eventually, the cost of that silence became impossible to ignore. It was then that her work in design began to evolve into something more purposeful and deeply personal.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

From the moment I stepped into the world of fashion at fifteen, I knew this was more than just clothes—it was about people. Helping others feel good about themselves was a natural passion, and it led me through roles with luxury concierge brand Quintessentially, Westfields, and eventually, to launching my own business, Adristyling.

What I do is more than selecting outfits. It’s about earning trust. When someone comes to me for help, there’s always a reason. Whether they’ve lost themselves post-pregnancy, gone through major life changes, or simply feel overwhelmed by shopping, I meet them where they are—judgment-free and ready to rebuild their confidence.

One woman, gifted a session by her sister, canceled on me three times. When we finally met, she was quiet, withdrawn, and convinced I couldn’t help her. But as we shopped, found pieces that celebrated her shape, and she saw herself differently in the mirror, tears rolled down her cheeks. That was when I knew she saw what I already did—someone worthy of pride and joy.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

When I first arrived in Australia in 1997, my surname baffled everyone. Xenakis—a name steeped in Greek history and transformed through generations—became too difficult to pronounce, so friends began calling me Athena X. What started as a nickname grew into an identity, a brand, and ultimately, a way of being seen.

Many people first came to know me through The Real Housewives of Sydney. That experience, although surreal and at times painful, was part of my evolution. Filming a reality show is like stepping into a controlled experiment—you become vulnerable to how others interpret and portray you. I now refer to it as unreality TV, a monster of distortion that nonetheless pushed me to examine myself deeply. In hindsight, I see it not with regret but with acceptance. It was a chapter that shaped me.

I've always been creative. Even before TV and public recognition, my world was filled with art, design, and personal expression. Whether dressing myself, styling a dinner party, or designing a home, creativity has been the thread that runs through everything I do. My paintings, born out of meditation and emotion, come from a place that words often can’t reach. They’re spiritual offerings—meant not to be understood, but to be felt.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The Gold Coast holds a particular charm, especially for those drawn to sunshine, design, and a lifestyle that has long attracted creatives. For Janelle Watson-Evans, the allure began in childhood. After moving from Sydney with her mother following her parents’ separation, she found herself immersed in a world where resilience met aesthetic ambition. Her mother, juggling several jobs to make ends meet, gradually carved out a name in interior design. A prolific developer noticed her innate flair, and soon she was decorating display apartments. Eventually, she became known as the “Golden Girl of Gold Coast interior design,” a title earned through talent, persistence, and vision.

Janelle’s own entry into the world of interiors was both personal and professional. She returned from university in Sydney to rejoin her mother on the Gold Coast, where they worked together for many years. Their work spanned the country, with repeat clients in Victoria, Sydney, and beyond. What set them apart was a sophisticated design approach uncommon for the time and place—an elegant interplay of antique elements, contemporary Australian art, and iconic modernist furniture. Their interiors were featured in magazines and inspired by global publications like Architectural Digest and World of Interiors.

A deep respect for art, history, and individuality informs Janelle’s design philosophy. She describes her aesthetic as respectful, refined, expressive, and stylish. Her work reflects these qualities through thoughtful integration of her clients' treasured items, ensuring homes are layered with personality and memory. Her approach is not about rigid styles but about creating timeless, international looks that could just as easily belong in Milan or New York as in Surfers Paradise.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

When I walk into Blender Gallery, I’m not just stepping into an art space—I’m stepping into living, breathing memory. That’s what makes this gallery different. The walls don’t just display photographs; they hold emotional weight, collective nostalgia, and cultural reverence. From the iconic gaze of Jimi Hendrix to candid moments with Fleetwood Mac, every image captures a moment in time that still pulses with life.

My work is grounded in authenticity. Every piece in the gallery is 100% original—handcrafted, signed, or authenticated by the photographers themselves or their estates. I work directly with these artists or their closest representatives to ensure each image maintains its integrity. One standout example is Dominique Tarlé, the only photographer to have documented the Rolling Stones during their 1971 exile in the South of France. He still handmakes every print in his Paris studio, right down to the stamp and signature.

It’s not just about the names or the fame. What moves people—what moves me—is the emotional connection.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I was just fifteen when I left my hometown of Chicago and stepped into the home of a Swiss family whose legacy would shape the course of my life. I didn’t know it then, but that family’s grandfather, Jan Tschichold, was a pioneer of modern book design. Listening to stories about his work, his confrontations with the Nazis over modern design, and his eventual role as art director at Penguin Books showed me that design was more than aesthetics—it could be powerful, even dangerous.

Returning to the U.S., I pursued art history at Hope College in Michigan, a place steeped in design influence. The presence of Herman Miller and the legacy of Ray and Charles Eames surrounded my education, embedding modernist ideals in my thinking. Eventually, I enrolled at the Illinois Institute of Technology, the spiritual successor to the Bauhaus. There, under the shadow of Mies van der Rohe’s iconic buildings, I studied architecture and felt certain I was on the right path.

New York was next. Working with Charles Gwathmey, one of the New York Five, was an education in itself. Through him, I connected with Richard Meier, Peter Eisenman, and Stephen Holl. These names weren’t just on the covers of architecture magazines; they were in the room, sketching, debating, creating. It was surreal. Our team became one of the seven finalists in the World Trade Center Memorial design competition. Although our design wasn’t chosen, the experience—working on a project with such emotional and global significance—was unforgettable.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

My love affair with modernism began in an architectural history class. While my classmates scrambled for familiar movements like Art Deco and Renaissance, I ended up with the Bauhaus — simply because no one else wanted it. That chance assignment changed everything. I fell in love with the clarity, the intent, and the enduring relevance of modernism. What I didn’t realize at the time was how deeply connected I already was to it. As a child, I lived in several architect-designed modernist homes, unaware of their significance until years later.

My professional path took an unexpected but formative turn when I worked in Venice. After the economic downturn in the late 1980s cost me a high-profile hotel design job, I chose to pursue work in a city that had touched my soul. In Venice, I immersed myself in restoration, working on buildings with profound historical value. It shifted my perspective. I realized that while commercial interiors might last five to seven years, conserving architecture was a legacy that could endure generations.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I was born into architecture. My earliest memories are drenched in the scent of lime and cement, clinging to my father’s clothes as he took me through construction sites in Buenos Aires. He was a builder in the truest sense—designing and constructing with his own hands, shaping apartments one brick at a time with a small team. That intimacy with materials and process was my first education, long before I stepped into a university.

I began my career captivated by form and spectacle. Residential luxury homes, hotels, and restaurants gave me a palette to explore grand aesthetics and visual precision. But somewhere along the line, my work—and my life—took a turn. Exposure to drawing, poetry, and spiritual practices like meditation and ayahuasca introduced a new language, one not of surfaces but of sensations. Architecture began to feel less like a profession and more like a question: how do we inhabit space meaningfully?

Buenos Aires, with its layered identity of European heritage and Latin American roots, became my reference point. The city embodies contrast and coexistence, sophistication and earthiness. That duality started to reflect in my design. I wanted to understand not only how buildings stood, but how they held life, how they could embrace silence, rhythm, ritual.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I’ve spent years listening to people, but it wasn’t until recently that I truly understood the transformational power of storytelling. Sitting down with Mona Saade revealed not just the art of preserving memories, but the deeper, personal shifts that unfold when someone begins to speak their truth. Mona doesn’t just write books—she captures lives. Through her work at “Writing Your Life,” she partners with individuals, families, and business founders to shape narratives that are as healing as they are lasting.

Her process is more than factual recounting. It’s about uncovering values, identity, and the heartbeat behind achievements. One story that stayed with me was of a man with dementia. Mona helped him tell his story while he could still remember it, crafting a legacy for his sons and grandchildren. Another was a young mother with terminal cancer, determined to leave something for her children before she lost her ability to speak. In both cases, the result wasn’t just a book—it was a lifeline for those left behind.

Mona’s work is deeply personal and entirely collaborative. Every story is unique and demands a bespoke approach. Family business projects might span years; individual stories may unfold over many months. But in each case, what starts as a conversation grows into something far more powerful. Clients often undergo emotional transformation—feeling seen, lighter, even healed—simply because someone listened deeply.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I grew up in rural Perthshire, surrounded by rolling hills, long winters, and a creative spirit inherited from my grandparents. Those endless dark afternoons in Scotland encouraged imagination, which led me to pursue a degree in clothing design and manufacture at the Scottish College of Textiles. I was determined, even as a teenager, to build a career in fashion, and my education gave me incredible skills—everything from bespoke tailoring to painting my own fabric when I couldn’t find what I needed.

Life, of course, had other plans. I met my partner during my studies, and my dream of running off to Paris was replaced by a different kind of ambition—starting something of my own. After a stint working in fashion production, counting buttons in a broom cupboard for a Marks & Spencer supplier, I realized I craved more creativity. That was the beginning of Primrose Hill Interiors.

What started as handmade cushions and throws sold in galleries grew into a full-scale business. Over 15 years, I expanded across the UK through platforms like Not on the High Street and featured in magazines thanks to events like the Country Living Fair. One of my first stockists, a boutique interior design studio, unexpectedly asked me to run their business. I did—managing projects, clients, and curtains. That experience anchored my love for interiors.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Japan left a vivid imprint on me as a child. We moved there in 1955 when I was young—my father stationed near Hiroshima with the Australian troops. It wasn’t until much later, when a journalist asked me to reflect, that I realized how much those early years had influenced me. I looked around and saw the red lacquer, red nail polish, red keys—it had all been there for decades. Japan had quietly shaped my aesthetic without me knowing.

Growing up in Geelong, I had dreams of studying interior design, but I was turned away because I hadn’t done maths. They offered me a secretarial course instead. I took it, hated it, but to this day I can type very fast. I worked in a gallery, then someone said, “Bobby, why don’t you open a shop?” That’s how Bobby May began in 1967. I was twenty, selling Swedish glassware and Copco cookware. People predicted I’d close within months. Instead, I ran with it until it was time to move to Melbourne in 1971.

There, I found a role with Trade Action, part of Handicraft Asia. I didn’t have Myer training, but I had my own business experience, and that counted. A few months in, I was off to Russia. I had always been fascinated by Russian history. When I arrived in Moscow and opened the window to see the Kremlin and Red Square, I was awestruck. That trip was transformative, not frightening, just deeply absorbing. We took trains, shared rooms, wandered Leningrad. It made returning to Melbourne feel like coming back with new eyes.

I was lucky to work under Bob Webb, who encouraged ideas. One day, I pitched opening a special store. He said, “Where?” I said, “High Street, Armadale.” That became Myriad. We added cafés, fashion jewellery, and even plants to our stores in the ‘70s—long before it became standard retail practice.

John came into the picture in 1972. We had a few dates, I went to Greece, and he followed me. We ended up staying in Europe for over eight years. When we returned, I joined David Jones while John took on renovation and decorating work. Together, we launched Herman and Herman in 1990 in Richmond. It started as a wholesaler to the design industry. When customers began knocking on the windows, we let them in. Retail found us.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

I was born and raised in Brazil, where my love for communication led me to study journalism and later pursue an MBA in marketing. My early career saw me writing for newspapers, reporting on radio, and appearing on TV, primarily covering political news in Brazil’s capital. I later transitioned into corporate strategy roles, blending my media and marketing skills in a dynamic business environment.

Nearly two decades ago, I made the life-altering decision to move to Australia to learn English, driven by dreams of working in international journalism. I was drawn by the country’s familiar warmth, lifestyle, and, unexpectedly, by love. It wasn’t easy at first. Arriving with limited English, I faced the frustrations of feeling trapped by language barriers despite having so much to offer professionally. To truly integrate, I distanced myself from the Brazilian community, determined to immerse myself fully in Australian culture.

Over time, my path took an unexpected turn. I pursued a qualification in interior design, fusing my creative instincts, marketing knowledge, and business acumen into a new career. Today, I run a successful interior design business while balancing the roles of wife, mother to two boys, and active community member.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

David built his career on a simple yet powerful idea: offering timeless, sustainable flooring that feels at home anywhere. It all started in England, working as a carpet layer, where he found himself drawn to a unique woven coconut fiber carpet. It was challenging to install and entirely different from the traditional Axminster or Wilton carpets that dominated the market, but something about it captured his imagination.

Thirty years later David is sharing his successful story.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Brendan's love for vintage furniture began with a sense of familiarity—memories of the pieces his parents had during his childhood. As he got older, those designs reappeared in the world around him, awakening an appreciation not just for their form, but for the stories they carried. That initial curiosity evolved into a passion, and today he has found himself immersed in the mid-century design era, celebrating its lasting impact on the way we live and interact with our spaces.

People often ask what makes a piece of vintage furniture captivating instead of outdated. The answer lies in the details and the era it hails from. Some think of the 1950s to 1970s when they hear “mid-century,” while others stretch the vintage label into the ‘90s. Regardless of the decade, there’s an enduring quality in all these pieces.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In Marks words.

"From the moment I could hold a hammer, the path was set. I was raised in a world of artisans, with a tailor for a father, an artist for a mother, and a family where creativity wasn’t optional—it was how we survived. My grandfather’s handmade tools, carried with him when he migrated to Australia, are still with me. Those tools didn’t just build furniture—they built character. If we didn’t have something, we made it. That was the rule.

I was lucky to learn from master tradespeople who saw me not just as a pair of hands, but as someone worth investing in. Their philosophy became mine: give your best to others, and they’ll carry it forward. That principle shaped Freestyle Joinery, though it took me 15 years and Kelly’s unwavering belief in me to believe I could make it real. Leaving a steady job was terrifying. But staying still, afraid of failure, would’ve been worse"

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In her practice as a visual artist, Ana strives to tell stories without a single word. It's a quiet language of brushstrokes, color, shading, and composition. Every canvas becomes a conversation—one that invites the viewer to feel rather than read. For Ana, art isn't just a visual; it's emotional, and that emotional connection is the heartbeat of her work.

One of the most profound experiences Ana had was painting a portrait for the Archibald Prize. It was her first entry, and the subject was someone she knew well—someone who entrusted her completely with capturing his essence. It was an intense process that involved many hours of in-person sittings, discussions, and moments of vulnerability. What resulted was more than a likeness—it was a reflection of adversity transformed into strength. When he finally saw the finished piece, his emotional reaction reminded Ana she paints

Each year, she returns to the Archibald with the same commitment. Choosing a subject who moves her is paramount. Ana dives deep into their world, gathering their stories and interpreting them visually. This year, she painted Dr. Patricia Jenkins, a woman devoted to humanitarian causes and environmental preservation. Her passion shaped the artwork—symbols of climate change, ocean conservation, and global responsibility are all subtly embedded within it. Her face floats above Bondi’s shoreline, with stormy skies and a sun-drenched globe casting light and shadow across the piece. Her determined expression says more than a thousand words ever could. #archibaldprize

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Scott Petrie sees art as more than a final product—it is movement, transformation, and a reflection of personal evolution. His journey into contemporary art has been shaped by a relentless pursuit of creative expression, guided by intuition and a deep understanding of form, texture, and energy. Rather than adhering to a singular style, he embraces change, allowing his work to shift and adapt as he does.

For Petrie, movement is central to his artistic philosophy. He views each piece as a living entity, shaped by both intention and spontaneity. Whether through bold strokes, layered textures, or unexpected compositions, his work captures the essence of transition and growth. Art, in his eyes, is never static—it breathes, evolves, and invites interpretation.

Beyond the canvas, he believes creativity flourishes through discipline and routine. Inspiration, while important, is not something to wait for but something to cultivate through daily practice and self-reflection. Structure provides the foundation for innovation, ensuring that artistic expression remains sustainable rather than fleeting.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Greg Natale has spent nearly three decades shaping the world of interior design, both in Australia and abroad. Since launching Greg Natale Design in 2001, he has built a brand known for its fearless approach to pattern, color, and form. His career, rooted in tenacity and constant evolution, reflects his deep understanding of an industry driven by trends but anchored in timeless design.

Formal education played a pivotal role in shaping Natale’s approach. Studying interior design and architecture at UTS gave him the ability to think critically and develop a structured creative process. While he believes on-the-job experience teaches essential skills, he credits his academic background with laying the foundation for his career. 

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

From a young age, Joss Knight knew he wanted to create. It wasn’t just about design—it was about the way spaces shape emotions, influence behavior, and tell a story. That early fascination led him to study interior design at Billy Blue College of Design, where he quickly made a name for himself.

His understanding of space was deeply personal. Growing up, home was a refuge, a place where emotions could be safely contained. This perspective shaped his approach to design, where he prioritized environments that felt both beautiful and deeply personal. He recognized the power of sensory design, an idea that resonated with industry mentor John Eussen, who emphasized the importance of touch, sight, and scent in shaping the way people experience spaces.

Joss’s talent was undeniable, and it was recognized early. Winning the 2019 eussen student design Competition, this gave him the confidence and industry exposure that set his career in motion. 

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Growing up in a migrant Sicilian family in Australia, Antonia Perricone Mrljak was surrounded by creativity long before she recognized its significance. Her family, driven by necessity, made everything by hand—sewing, cooking, farming—instinctively crafting a world of survival and self-sufficiency. Without formal education, she relied on intuition to navigate her path, shaping a career that was anything but conventional.

Abstract art became her language, a way to communicate emotions that words could not. For Antonia, abstraction was an extension of her upbringing—where everything was made from nothing, where survival was instinctual. In a world where some dismiss abstract work as simple, she embraced the challenge, understanding that true expression is layered with complexity.

An Artist is born.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Maria's style can be defined as edgy sophistication with the appropriate touch of elegance.

Her adaptability to meet client needs is what has led her into design media which is why she is now one of Australia's top design influencers.

This episode is a snapshot into Maria's design journey, highlighting some her inspirational projects.

Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.