My neighbour just turned 96 and I’ve never seen her wear the same outfit twice

My neighbour Dee just turned 96. I have lived in the same apartment building as her since 1998, and have never seen her wear the same outfit twice. The longest inhabitant of the building, she moved here in 1980, after arriving in Sydney from South Africa via London in 1964.

Dee’s entire apartment serves as a wardrobe, packed with clothes, jewellery, shoes, hats and assorted accessories. Credit: Courtesy of Dee Webb

Our block of 12 is at Cremorne Point, Sydney, where the six front-facing apartments look straight at the harbour. The whole building is owned by one family, who prefer not to spend too much on maintenance. But far more importantly, they have kept the rents relatively low, a true Sydney miracle.

Hence we are still here, the second-longest inhabitants of the building. And hence, as an older single woman of minimal means, Dee still has a place to live. Dee has no direct family, no husband, children or relatives, but she has forged a family here, a network of neighbours as solid as the building’s orange 1950s bricks.

When you move in, Dee is usually the first person you meet. Her door is open from the time she wakes up to when she goes to bed. At first sight, catching a glimpse inside, you might assume she is a hoarder. One tradie thought it was a strange shop. Every inch is covered in stuff – art, posters, DVDs, books, fridge magnets, cushions, dolls and a plethora of knick-knackery. Her entire apartment serves as a wardrobe, packed with clothes, jewellery, shoes, hats and assorted accessories, but don’t get the wrong idea. As Dee will tell you, she’s a collector, not a hoarder. She knows exactly where everything is.

Dee also loves the arts, particularly theatre and musicals. A few days after we moved in, she stopped my husband on the stairs, brandishing a program. “Look! I thought I knew you.” It was from a show he had performed in Perth years before with his British theatre company. I doubt anyone else in Australia would have kept one. It felt like an auspicious start.

Dee is all about dressing up - way, WAY up - particularly relishing a theme. Credit: Courtesy of Dee Webb

When I say I’ve never seen her in the same outfit, I’m not talking your average sartorial standards. Dee is all about dressing up - way, WAY up - particularly relishing a theme. Whether it’s Easter or Anzac Day, Mardi Gras or Melbourne Cup, she puts together an incredible, often colour-coordinated ensemble with an innate sense of style and dramatic panache. It’s an art, and she is artist and artwork. Even when she’s tending the rock garden in front of our building, watering or weeding, chatting to anyone who passes, there’s a look going on.

She has also been an invaluable resource over the years, saving us a fortune in fancy dress hire. Need an outfit? Head down to No 3. Ken and Barbie 50th Party? No problem. Dressing up like Kate Bush for The Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever? Easy-peasy. Fifties-style hat and handbag for my husband’s opening night of The Odd Couple in Melbourne? So many options.

In finding a family for herself, Dee has created a community for us all. Everyone knows Dee, not just us but in the neighbourhood, and Dee connects everyone else. Our 16-year-old son has grown up with this extended family watching over him, seeing his first steps, first day of school, first football moves, first broken arm, first girlfriend.

Sure, it’s a bit squishy fitting two adults and a teen in our small two-bedroom apartment, but people do it all over the world, and the benefits are myriad and unexpected. This message came from Dee in the lead-up to Mother’s Day: “Just Thinking as Your lovely mum is no longer with us and Mark’s in UK, I elect to be Our Darling Oscar’s Glam Mama in Oz.”

We all believe, 100 per cent, that Dee will outlive every one of us.Credit: Jacqui Taffel

It’s not all sunshine and roses. Any family has fraught moments and falling-outs and Dee is a force to be reckoned with. You might find yourself off the good books for a time, but the sun comes out again sooner or later.

The building’s four top-floor apartments including ours also have our own sub-community. During the COVID lockdowns, we instigated Dinner By the Door (DBTD) on Sunday night every few weeks. At 6pm we opened our four doors, put chairs out in the hallway or sat on the stairs, and had socially distanced dinner together, food on our laps, often dressed in pyjamas and dressing gowns.

Those conversations, in turns hilarious, scandalous and deeply personal, will always stay with me, a vivid snapshot of laughter and light in dark times, embraced by lime-green carpet. As COVID receded and lockdown lifted, we were not ready to give up these communal meals, so our doors still open at 6pm on random Sundays.

As Dee has aged, the things that come to all of us have come for her. Cancer. Falls. Ambulances called in the middle of the night. Hospital, carers, dodgy lungs, walking sticks, wheelchairs. But no matter what, when she emerges from No. 3 to head out – to the shops, the theatre, an appointment, visiting friends – she is a one-woman show-stopper from head to toe, with the Facebook posts to prove it.

This year the DBTD crew hatched a plan for a surprise 96th birthday party, up the road at the Buena Vista Hotel. Another neighbour from the building next door was enlisted to deliver her to Sunday lunch.

Fortunately, her heart was strong enough to withstand the shock of finding a table full of local friends singing Happy Birthday, with balloons, flowers and a card in the form of a large collage poster of her 100 hottest looks (thanks Martin in No. 12) and a magnificent home-made cake (Julie and Jane, No 10).

The flowers, balloons and poster are now proudly on display outside No 3, leftover cake has been distributed around the building, and life here carries on. A kitten has moved into No.2, a newly arrived cellist plays in No.5, joining the guitarist in No. 8 and my husband on ukulele, learnt during lockdown (sorry everyone).

And we all believe, 100 per cent, that Dee will outlive every one of us, the most glamorous, gardening go-getter of all time. Happy Birthday to you, Glam Mama.

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