These mates dreamt about retiring to Mexico – but found a little Aussie town instead

Long-time best mates, marketeer Peter Manwaring, 57, and hatter Robert Carroll, 54, used to talk about retiring to a hacienda in Mexico. But it was an Australian country town that stole their hearts in the end.

Robert Carroll and Peter Manwaring. “Most of Molong thought we were a gay couple,” says Carroll. “I think they still do.” Credit: Pip Farquharson 

Peter: I was going through the obligatory self-destructive phase after splitting with my wife when I first met Robbie in Sydney’s Strand Arcade in 2000. He ran this shop called Strand Hatters – an institution, really – and I worked in the office next door. He’d run around yelling “Ciao!” to anyone within earshot while I drank coffee, feeling sorry for myself. Everyone called him Roberto with an Italian accent and a rolling “r”. I didn’t know he wasn’t actually Italian until years later. Actors, musicians and models all wore his hats – but his creative schtick was clashing with the corporate style of the shop’s new owners [Akubra]. I gave him some advice, helped him communicate his worth.

I thought he’d never leave the shop but, in 2018, he moved back to Dubbo to be with his dad, who had dementia. A couple of years earlier, I’d bought this grand old building in Molong [120 kilometres south of Dubbo] – a residence with a shop on the ground floor. I’ve got plans to develop it into a creative hub for independent musicians and artists. Anyway, I asked him to move in for a while because when he wasn’t looking after his dad, he was at his twin sister’s farm, lying on the couch watching too much trashy reality TV. I joined him when Sydney went into lockdown.

Robbie’s a brilliant cook and cleaner, so the whole idea was a stroke of genius on my part. He’s also very caring and generous – a touch neurotic, perhaps, but always lots of fun. He took to poking his head into my Zoom meetings and became widely known as “Pete’s gay butler”. It’s not all roses, though. Leave a bottle of gin around and it can quickly disappear.

‘Robbie likes to win over the biggest, ugliest and most aggressive guy in any room – and maybe that was me.’

Peter Manwaring

He made soup endlessly for sick people during the pandemic and still does. It can take a toll on him, though: he gets upset and can’t sleep, which fuels his anxiety. He’s been known to exit a dinner party without warning. I’m the opposite, intolerant and impatient. He regularly has to jump into conversations to stop me saying something I’ll regret. He goes, “Pete, no.”

Robbie likes to win over the biggest, ugliest and most aggressive guy in any room – and maybe that was me. We were at a party once on the rooftop of this building in Potts Point and I swore Robbie was going over the side. He was verbally abusing this six-foot-four Maori guy who was pure muscle. Growing up gay in Dubbo, it’s his defence mechanism. Once he wins them over, they protect him.

The house in Molong had this rundown shop downstairs. Having a talented hatter and shopkeeper like Robbie running something there became my obsession. Luckily, it became his, too. Over the years, he’s built this world-class hattery that also sells men’s accessories and gifts. He named it after the building’s original shop, Molong Stores.

I’ve stepped up as his emotional bodyguard since his recent split with his partner of four years but aside from that, nothing much has changed. It used to be me having coffee in the Strand Arcade with Robbie shouting and ­running around. Now the same thing happens but it’s Molong’s tiny main street that gets the daily show. I love it and him – the good, the bad and the ugly.

Manwaring (right) and Carroll shopping in New York City, 2009.Credit: Courtesy of Peter Manwaring

Robbie: When Dad went into palliative care in September 2020, Pete took me to the pub in Molong, got me drunk on tequila and let me cry. Because of COVID-19, only family could attend his funeral, so Pete sent this massive bunch of flowers that surpassed all others.

Pete’s the most generous – and obnoxious – person I know. He has a wicked sense of humour, often at other people’s expense, and an extremely tough exterior, but if you dig deep enough – and it can be one hell of a dig – you’ll find a soft centre. He helps people when they’re down on their luck. During the 18 months I lived with him, he never asked me for a cent and he’s never put up the rent in the shop. His ethos is, what goes around comes around.

After almost 30 years spent running a ­famous shop and designing hats, I felt as if I’d lost my identity. Coming back to Dubbo when I did to support my dad and siblings was the best decision of my life. Pete suggested moving into the terrace just before COVID hit and then joined me there. I’d clean and cook for us and serve happy-hour G&Ts when the pub closed. His Zoom colleagues would say, “Who’s that?” and he’d say, “The butler”. Most of Molong thought we were a gay couple – I think they still do. They’d see us out walking my chihuahua, Sport, but Pete’s never cared what people think.

‘Pete has this aura of authority. Everyone goes to him for advice and he gives it whether they ask or not. He’s usually right.’

Robert Carroll

I’ve lost my mum, dad and two dogs, and while Pete didn’t offer cuddles and sympathy, he helped me plant willow trees to honour my parents on land I’ve bought in Molong, and dug a grave for Sport when I had to have him put down a few months back. Pete lost his dad around the same time my mum died about 16 years ago. That’s when I saw he was human, not just this cool guy with a gallery [Medium Rare Gallery] and bar [The Bearded Tit] in Redfern who everyone wanted to know. I saw a vulnerability beneath the stoic, rock-like persona.

Pete has this aura of authority. Everyone goes to him for advice and he gives it whether they ask or not. He’s usually right. The thing I’ve taught him is that in a small country town, you’ve got to get along with people. He doesn’t suffer fools and needed to drop his guard. I tell him, “You don’t have to have a lot in common to get along; you just need to get along.”

I see Pete about 10 times a day, which is more than I see anyone. We have coffee together, eat lunch outside the shop and knock off for beers at 4pm. We just don’t seem to get sick of each other. I remember visiting him in New York years ago. We’d order espresso martinis the morning after a big night and talk about retiring to Mexico. Instead of the hacienda, we wound up here. Sometimes I ask Pete, “Is this it? Is Molong it?” And I’m happy with that. I have a great shop, the best mates and I just love this little town.

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