Amanda

The next of our Del Mar Women — mother of five, grandmother, and sixty this month. In her own words.

Where in the world do you feel most like yourself — and what is it about that place or moment?

There are two places for me. The first is at home, with my husband and children. I'm up at five every morning to reflect on the good things in life. It's so peaceful to watch the night become day — the colour changing in the sky and on the water. The birds, the dolphins; we have an abundance of wildlife where we live. We're given a new day to live and enjoy, to be only in that moment. I'm so grateful for the simplicity of having a family and enjoying nature.

My second place is on our boat at Rottnest Island. It is beyond beautiful. I adore the ocean and its effect on me, physically and emotionally, and we create so many wonderful new memories there with the kids, and the grandkids.

I'm often surprised at how people are taken aback when I tell them I have five children. I'm blessed — watching them all grow, appreciating their individuality, but above all the experience of such deep love. We are all very close; family get-togethers are always a priority. I nearly lost a child one night, and I can't begin to tell you the depth of the pain I felt. It was deeply emotional and the physical pain— my heart hurt, and I still haven't recovered. I love them, but that night made me realise just how deeply I love them all. They are a part of me. They are my priority.

What has shaped you most — not just as a woman, but in how you live your life?

I had many challenging experiences as a child and a young woman. Those times placed me in situations that forced me to become fiercely independent. I'm a naturally optimistic person, and whatever life throws my way, I can always overcome it and find the good. I always preferred the guidance and company of people far beyond my years. Their experiences of life, both good and bad, fascinated and moved me — we have so much to learn from our elderly, and from history. Conversation taught me to listen deeply, and to make connections.

I spent a lot of time with my paternal grandmother. She taught me patience, resilience and warmth, and she was a fantastic homemaker. She took me travelling overseas, to church on Sundays, and taught me to cook. I remember watching her get ready for her day, quietly — doing her hair and her makeup, the corsets, the pretty dresses, the stockings, the heels, the gloves, a handkerchief, and of course a stylish, functional handbag with a powder compact and a red lippy. She was beautiful, feminine, generous, so strong, patient and resilient. She taught me about life, and about the people in it — both good and not so good. She was charitable and caring, and she taught me to always be kind and to support those in need.

What does building something of your own mean to you — and what has it required you to grow into?

It was never about building something of my own. Building a family was, and still is, an important process to me — one that is still in progress. Building a successful business while being a single parent was tough, particularly when you don't have support. I had feelings of guilt at not always being able to collect them from school; they spent quite a few of their holidays in childcare. I realised the importance of being a parent who is present. We have been made to believe it’s appropriate our children be raised by strangers for far too long, and there needs to be change. Being a parent is by far the most important role in your life, if that's your path.

My children have all taught me so much — it is them who have influenced my growth, my choices, my strength, and above all my ability to build deep and caring connections. I have grandchildren now, and there is something beautiful about watching your children have children of their own. My daughter is the most patient and beautiful mother; she chose to be one hundred per cent there for her little boy, and to postpone her career until he is in school. My son is sole parenting his little girl, whose mother left when she was a baby; he is completely devoted to her, and selfless in his approach to caring for her. They have my full support, day and night.

I don't offer advice to my children unless it's asked for. I'm always honest — if you ask them, probably too honest; I don't sugarcoat. Family teaches you to appreciate and understand people's individuality. Each of your children's needs and paths are sometimes profoundly different. Our children are not ours to own — they each carry their own purpose. It is loving them so deeply, and somehow finding the ability to let them go, so they can grow.

How do you hold the balance between caring for others and building a life that feels like your own?

There is no balance. It's been a bit of a giggle in our family that it has sometimes been organised mayhem. I learned that peace matters more than perfection. There were times in my life when I was a single parent, so I always did what was necessary for my children, and then for me. I always believed I could get anything done — and I did. Self-belief is your best driver; that, and a good sense of humour. I love quiet company, and I deeply enjoy my own. It's very important to find and ask for time to recharge, and with a busy life I've learned to ask for time alone. It's important that your family respect each other's space — that me asking to be alone does not mean I don't love you.

After what I call "a few false starts," I was blessed to meet my husband at the age of forty-six, with five children in tow. I remember our first date, when he asked me to tell him a little about myself. My reply: I have five children, the youngest being two. He said, "You'll need a lot more than that to scare me off." He has been steadfastly by my side through things most people could not tolerate. He has seen me at my best and my worst; he opens my door, holds my hand, and we laugh ourselves silly. He always has my back, and I have his. He is a strong, intelligent and generous man, and always puts me first. He treats all five of my children as if they are his own, and we are all incredibly close. My children adore him. We all have our faults, and the love in our household works both ways. We've built a beautiful life, and he is an incredible mentor to my children — he always takes the time for one-to-one conversation, sometimes for hours, whatever they may need, and he supports them in their endeavours. The organised mayhem has slowed with his deep love and support. He is absolutely a keeper. So, when you ask me about balance — he is balance.

How has your sense of style evolved over time — and do you feel more at ease in how you dress now than you did in your twenties?

I loved dressing up, but I was always most comfortable in a bikini, shorts and thongs. I loved the eighties — brands like George Gross and Harry Who, Covers… my lord, those shoulder pads. There were power suits, neon, leg warmers, crop tops and miniskirts. The eighties were fantastic.

I became a mother at twenty-six and had my fifth child at forty-three. My style evolved from being structured to being soft and feminine — and able to kick a footy after school with the kids. That came with loving being a woman and appreciating all she can do. I love my body now; it's taken a while. I'm understated. I love soft pastels, whites and creams. I have a huge collection of silk tops, pants and slip dresses, as they are so versatile and feel beautiful against the skin. I only travel with carry-on, and silks allow me to be away for weeks without standing at a baggage carousel. I love the simplicity of styling them with sandals or sneakers, a sweater, a linen or denim jacket; at night, I transform them with a sequinned jacket or a long silk duster, evening jewels and heels.

I don't hide my age, and I don't understand why some women do. I'm sixty this month, and I feel fantastic. Ageing is a beautiful privilege, and so far, my body and mind have been kind to me. I have a beautiful family and wonderful friends. Life is a blessing, and I am so grateful for all I have.

Amanda wears the Aurora Silk Duster — made of the sun and sea, made to keep.