Nijinski by The Hamburg Ballet: A Reflection

Amazing. Unreal. Incredible.

Tonight’s performance of Nijinski by the Hamburg Ballet completely blew me away. I loved the premise, I loved the narrative, I loved the design. And the dancing? Oh, the dancing!

This week at home has just been ‘one of those’. I’ve been madly helping my Mum finish preparations for her children’s clothing stall at the Mathilda Markets and we explored Home Festival at Kangaroo Point yesterday. My six month old got some strange nappy rash that required a special cream and both, yes both, of our cars broke down at the same time.

I say these things because if I was ever likely to fall asleep in a darkened theatre while watching a performance it should have been tonight! But instead I was inspired. Spellbound.

I described in a recent post the feeling of being carried away by music… How while the orchestra and opera performances I saw last week were enjoyable, I didn’t find myself lost. I did, however, lose myself in Nijinkski. Highly theatrical, combining contemporary dance, classical ballet, and an awesome stage design to boot, this has certainly been the highlight of The Hamburg Series for me.

Artists create art for many reasons. To celebrate, to challenge, to inspire, to provoke. Nijinski was all of these. Performance that requires an audience’s unwavering attention excite me! They get my mind racing, and I often find myself sitting so upright, and so rigid in my seat that I almost exhaust myself with the intensity of my observation.

Reflecting on this performance amongst all of my Hamburg experience so far is interesting. Ballet is the form with which I have had the least to do during the Series. None of the ‘Conversations’ leading up the to program were related to the Hamburg Ballet, nor their productions. I attended no rehearsals, nor had any other form of engagement with the Hamburg Ballet or the ideas that form Nijinski.

However, it is by far the event I have enjoyed the most.

Perhaps this enjoyment does actually stem from a previous ‘immersion’ in this art form. I danced as a child and studied classical ballet for six years. Which is not long in the scheme of things, but I think counts as a fair bit of ‘immersion’ by comparison to my understanding of opera and symphony. I am certain that my time spent studying ballet gives me a deeper understanding and appreciation of the form. I, like every other childhood dancer, I’m sure, watch professionals and wonder “could that have been me if I had kept up my dance training?”. And from that thought stems admiration and awe. For the skill, the control, the commitment that can be seen in every movement, through every limb, and even shooting out of pinky fingers and pinky toes.

And then there’s the Drama teacher in me. The lover of symbolism, of complex, episodic narratives, of conceptualism and dramatic meaning. I watched this performance almost as a teacher once more, burning images, thoughts, and interpretations in my mind so that I may discuss them with a class preparing for an analytical response.

My intellectual mind was awakened, thoughts of nappy rash and shopping lists were forgotten.

My emotional mind was reminded of stories outside those of my little family, as I experienced the emotions, the moments and the intensity of Nijinski’s story.

Just as those passionate about Wagner and Mahler insisted one must be a marble statue not to be moved by the music, I would say the same about Nijinski.

Although, while my instant summation would be adamant, “you will be moved!”, my Hamburg experience has reminded me that nothing in the Arts is absolute. Every audience member, every individual brings their own everything and nothing to a performance.

I wasn’t particularly moved by Mahler, nor by Wagner. In fact, I may have had a little cat nap. I was, however, absolutely moved by Nijinski, while the lady in the seat beside me slept quietly.

There exists so much art, for there is so much in the world. And for each of us I am sure there is art that speaks to us. That moves us, that carries us away. That ignites our minds, our emotions, our instincts.

And so I can only be thankful. To the choreographer, the performers, to QPAC, and to Nijinski himself. For this art was one for me.

On a Scale of Wagner to Vaaargner: A Night at the Opera

I’m sure there was a time in my life when I read Wagner and said “wag-ner” with a good ole Aussie twang. Now I know it’s ‘Vaaarg-ner”. I think I even tend to over-emphasise the ‘ahhh’ sound… I’m not sure where that kind of pronunciation sits on the scale of ‘Knows Vahgner’ to ‘Doesn’t know Wagner’.

Leaving my grumpy, teething, six month old baby at home with my husband for the second night in a row felt a little cruel. Though I must say that getting all dressed up, and spending time at QPAC with my best friend (not to mention a few cheeky glasses of wine before the show) was very refreshing!

Finding time for myself outside of motherhood is something I am still struggling with. Often it seems easier to stay home, within the comforts of all that is familiar, rather than to go out of my way to organise some time ‘for myself’. Elements of the “real world”, like finding out about the black tie dress code little more than a day before an event, now feel even more overwhelming.

Twenty-four hours is not a lot of time for a new Mum to find something suitable to wear (particularly amongst a wardrobe of beautiful, but now far-too-small dresses), for her to relearn how to apply mascara and practice walking in heels. And when that 24 hours contains the regular 18-20ish hours of active baby-care, attending the Mahler rehearsal and just a little bit of sleep, well, you get the picture!

When we arrived however, seeing the tuxedos, bow-ties, beautiful dresses and one amazing, green velvet dinner jacket made it all worthwhile.

Oh, and the mermaids!? Yes! They are the reason for my post.

I’m a bit of a sucker for ancient stories with gods, magical spells and mythical creatures. Which is why I was looking forward to last night’s performance of Das Rheingold by the Hamburg Philharmonic Orchestra and the Hamburg State Opera.

As much as it was emphasised during the Conversations series that a concert version of this opera was perhaps even more exciting (quote, “less distracting” unquote) than a full production, I do wish I could have seen the complete ‘show’. I guess what lovers of the music might see as distractions I, as a lover of theatre, see as the real culmination of the artist’s intent.

After having listening to the orchestra play Mahler’s Resurrection the night before, the singers, their characters and the universal narrative of love and greed, shed another light on this realm of the ‘classical’ that I am in the midst of exploring. The performers’ characterisations, both the individuality and collective melding of their voices, the stances, movements, facial expressions, this was more of what I am used to when reading a performance.

As far as the concert version goes, it was interesting to me that the singers appeared to be both themselves, and their characters. That while watching them sing I could imagine them in full costume, amongst a cartoonish set. Though between their parts, I thought they appeared as themselves, outside of their characterisation.

The lack of constant characterisation had me watching the performance on a more meta-cognitive level, as I was constantly reminded of the ‘creation’ of it, the fiction, reminded that it is all really just pretending. Not that I think the staging of an opera about mermaids and giants would be realistic, I just know that I would get a little more lost in the story with fewer ‘real-life’ distractions and more constant creation of the fiction.

That said, I did enjoy it immensely. And while listening to the music, following the story and the characters that were presented on the stage last night, my mind was simultaneously filling in the theatrical blanks with colour, costume, and fairytale-esque lands.

I was glad for having attended the Conversation about Wagner and Das Rheingold a few weeks ago. To have some idea of the storyline, the characters, and even just a fleeting understanding of some musical conventions like the use of ‘light motif’ certainly increased what I was able to take away from the performance.

That and the hilarious subtitles.

Across the language barrier, I wonder if when the audience was giggling at some slightly absurd translation, if the line actually carried the same giggle-factor in German, or if performers themselves were left wondering exactly what was on the screen above them while performing to this predominately English-speaking audience.

Last night was so much more than just the performance of an opera. It was, from the moment we arrived amongst the other formally-clad guests, a fascinating insight into a creative, social and cultural world that I haven’t taken part in before.

Home now in my teething rusk-covered tracksuit pants, with the whoosh-whoosh of my son’s white noise creating the soundtrack to my thoughts, the fine suits, delicious wine and high notes of Das Rheingold feel a million miles away.

But they’re not. They’re just there. In South Brisbane. At the Cultural Centre… For when I next decide I’d like a bit more ‘me’ time.

My First Symphony: The Creation of an Anemone

That was what the Hamburg Philharmonic Orchestra reminded me of at the final rehearsal of Mahler’s Resurrection in the QPAC Concert Hall last night. I heard the music, and at times I even felt it in my bones, but I saw an anemone.

The music was amazing. Who am I to suggest otherwise? There was definitely more than one moment that literally gave me shivers. But it was what I saw that excited me the most.

The movement of the conductor, the movement of the individual players, the movement of a collection of players in a section, of the entire collective – it was that which struck me and held my attention the most. Would it be a complete travesty to admit that the music formed almost a background soundtrack to what my mind was thinking and processing about the physical movements of the orchestra?

Post-rehearsal I am glad that I was able to attend the final rehearsal instead of the actual performance. To be able to listen to the energetic, passionate and charismatic Conductor Simone Young speak to her orchestra, and to the choral performers was so engaging. (Even thought most of what she said was in German). To see them all dressed as they are, rather than in the customary black clothing of actual performance. To watch the ‘rehearsal-only’ interactions between the musicians, cheeky glances, sneaky chats… I doubt that a lot of what garnered my attention would have actually taken place at an ‘official’ performance.

All that aside, it completely amazes me to hear a symphony, and to imagine it all being ‘thought of’ inside a single composer’s head. To think of the knowledge, the skill, the mind’s ‘ear’ that Mahler must have had in order to be able to create such a thing. It is truly amazing.

My reaction to the music itself surprised me. I had thought that I would be more taken by the quiet, peaceful moments in the symphony, but it was the most intense, the loudest, the most spectacular moments that really grabbed me. Like Chorus Master Emily Cox had said, the piece had “major tingle factor”.

I have to admit that I did struggle to maintain interest at times. All that I had experienced before this final rehearsal, all that I had heard and learnt during the Conversations Series and at the chorus rehearsal did mean that I sat and appreciated so much more of the artistry, the aesthetic, and the intent of the music. However, I think that perhaps symphony just isn’t quite for me.

Thinking about when I have attended a performance by a contemporary artist, one that I would play on my iPod, or in my car, I remember the excitement that boiled up inside of me. I remember feeling physically moved, inside of my ribcage. I remember my conscious mind becoming cloudy, falling beneath my feelings, beneath my emotions, and beneath my imagination. That phrase ‘carried away’ takes a physical presence within my body, even after hours of listening, when it is music that ignites my heart and mind. I am carried away when I am watching the performer or performers who created the music, and thus who created that feeling inside of me.

I’m not sure if one day classical music will be able to have that effect on me. Intellectually, I will enjoy it so much more after my Hamburg experience, but emotionally it still doesn’t quite touch me the way that other music can.

I’d like to be deferential and suggest that my distinct lack of sleep, that the time I spend up with my six month old son between the hours of midnight and five A.M. have a lot to do with my physical, emotional and intellectual response to this performance of Mahler, but I think I’d be doing this blogging project a disservice.

In all honesty I’m not sure it’s within me to feel really connected to classical music. I certainly appreciate it. I have been exposed to it at varying intervals during my life, as a singer, a high school musician, an audience member and most recently during this project. As I learn more my appreciation grows, but my emotional reaction does not.

So, let’s add some context. Let’s take classical music, some Wagner for example, and add a human story. Let’s add mermaids, and giants. Let’s add a narrative of love and greed. Let’s get dressed up in Black Tie and go see Das Rhiengold tonight!

Mermaids and giants? I like the sound of that.

Conversations Series #3: The Narrative Journey of Classical Music

Image shows a black teacup, a yellow notebook and pen sitting in front of a program outlining the QPAC Hamburg Conversation Series

My complete lack of connection to classical music and symphony meant that I had no idea how much of a big deal the performances of Mahler’s Resurrection and Wagner’s Das Rheingold were until the final in the Sunday Conversations Series that have led up to the Hamburg International Series.

The third of the Conversations Series, with the Queensland Symphony Orchestra’s Director of Artistic Planning, Richard Wenn and Choir Master Emily Cox was very enjoyable. Their combined passion for Mahler, and Emily’s excitement about both the piece and this particular performance was infectious. I listened to Emily speak about her own personal connection with Mahler’s work, about the artistry, the aesthetic, the meaning of the Resurrection symphony and I could feel how her excitement parallels how I myself have always felt about contemporary theatre.

“devastatingly powerful”




Or my favourite,

“[Mahler’s Resurrection] has major tingle factor. You’d have to be a marble statue not to be blown away by the end of this!”

How could anyone listen to such a statement and NOT feel excited about the performance ahead!

But first, please, some narrative…

I am a person of ‘human context’. It is the story behind things, the people, their personalities and experiences that ignite my imagination and fire my need for a performing art fix. In that respect it makes sense that theatre, narrative and character are what draw me into a performance. And perhaps why classical music has always sat on the ‘outside’ of my personal artistic preferences.

Did you know who Mahler was?

And that he worked in a hut. A hut!

That he demanded absolute silence and his family would shoo away birds, take the bells off the cows, doing all that they could to satisfy his need for peace?

It is this visual picture, this human context that excites me. In my mind’s eye I see him sitting at a dark wooden desk, with a window right in front of him but one that he doesn’t appear to notice. His eyes buried in the paper, seeing only the white and ink in front of him. His mind filled with a symphony (literally, a symphony!) of complex, challenging, sometimes dark and intense sounds.

I so thoroughly enjoyed hearing about how Mahler wrote. I so enjoyed the subsequent revelations in my own mind about Mahler’s individual artistry. It is one that I had never really imagined could occur in such traditional, classical music. I guess because my mind has lumped all classical music into one, fairly uninteresting (to me) genre, I haven’t considered how the form itself would have evolved through artistic risk-takers, through the avant-garde, through those who wrote, performed, thought, and created in a way that no-one before them had either the idea, or simply the courage to do.

There is certainly a lot more that now frames the way I hope I will hear classical music. The Conversations Series has certainly given me a deeper understanding with which to receive the performance of Mahler’s Resurrection with the Hamburg Philharmonic Orchestra. In a sense I wish I could attend the actual performance on Friday night, but nonetheless I am terribly excited to hear the work in its entirety at the final rehearsal on Wednesday night.

I can’t wait to hear all that was playing inside Mahler’s mind, as he sat in that silent, little hut.

Das Rheingold: A Conversation Heard with Beginners Ears

My 6 month old son Archie has had a few rough nights of late. Teeth, wind, nappy rash – just you name it and it’s been in our house more than I certainly care for. Which has made this Hamburg project both a blessing and a curse all at the same time. When I have to get ready and go I feel an obligatory dose of mumma-guilt for leaving my husband and son in a time of tears. Though as I crank up the music in the car and drive up the freeway towards QPAC I feel nostalgically free.

Emerging from the New Mum Fog

As I sat down for the second of the Conversation series at the Lyrebird Restaurant I learnt yet another new- mummy state that I had yet to really grasp. Exhausted from an almost pathological lack of sleep I found myself rambling uncontrollably to the nearest adult. Unused to conversing with most anyone other than my baby seemed to have rendered me socially inept.

A ridiculous sense of awkward self-awareness and exhaustion were probably not the best mental frames through which to listen to a fairly academic discussion of Wagner and Das Rheingold. And although while one gentleman (sitting at the front, no less) did actually fall asleep, I’m proud to say that despite a recurrent eye twitch, I did not.

Connecting to the Narrative of an Unfamiliar Art

My intellectual mind was fascinated by the discussion between Dramaturg Peter Bassett and Dr Stephan Emmerson, a Senior Lecturer in Music Literature. The parallels drawn between Das Rheingold and the socio-political times in which it was created are just the kind of topics that have always made the little people in my mind start turning the cogs.

The narrative interested me – the stuff of myth and legend. The connection to human experience excited me – power, love, greed. The historical context in which Wagner helped shape the way opera, theatre and subsequently cinema exists today fascinated me (he was apparently the first to close the doors, down the lights and thereby ‘ask’ the audience to actually concentrate on the art).

As Peter Bassett jumped onto the piano and drew our attention to some of the ‘light motifs’ Wagner wrote into his music the fogginess started to lift. I reminisced about teaching Melodrama to Year 9 Drama students. I thought about the simplicity of association – how a baby can learn that one thing is connected to something else, and in just the same way a classic composer can use a musical phrase to denote place, character, time.

Bassett’s excitement at the piano excited me in turn and I left highly anticipating joining the rest of the audience at Das Rheingold in a week and a half’s time.

There really is so much more that I could process and add – but as I type to a soundtrack of baby cries, accompanied by a husband’s persistent attempts to soothe an upset little boy, it is that part of life that I must think most of right now!

Behind the Scenes of an Opera Rehearsal

“Mahler’s Symphony No. 2, Resurrection”

Ordinarily if I were reading through a program of events, or flicking through the newspaper scouting advertisements of shows, this is not a title that would stop me. Not even for a second. And yet, I’ll be engaging with this event perhaps more than any other during my time ‘in’ Hamburg.

On the weekend I attended a tenor/bass rehearsal of the choir. Next week I’ll listened to another in the Conversations series, a discussion between choir master Emily Cox and QSO Director Richard Wenn. And finally, perhaps most excitingly, I will attend the final rehearsal of the performance, with both the Brisbane-based choir members and the Hamburg Philharmonic Orchestra.

Watching an hour or so of the rehearsal has started to built up my anticipation of this event. I was fascinated by Emily Cox’s direction of the choir during her rehearsal. Her drill sergeant intensity balanced with a gentle, artistic finesse had me engrossed as I listened to the men begin to master both the sound and the aesthetic connection she asked of them.

This was, I gathered, a short performance for a choir, and yet perhaps demanded more of them than any other performance would. The rehearsal, and Mahler’s work, required that they leave their egos at the door and really connect with one another so that they may produce a sound, a feeling, an experience that truly reflected what Mahler had intended when he wrote those words, those lines, those dots of music on paper so long ago.

Female choir master with blond hair leads a bass and tenor rehearsal of Mahler's Resurrection

“… It’s a human act of feeling the sense, the text in the chord.” The choir master searched for words as she constantly worked to connect the mechanics of technique with each man’s own thoughts, experiences and feelings.

This connection to story, to emotion and imagery is something I’ve never been able to feel when listening to classical music. Well that’s not entirely true. I do feel something, and I do hear the emotion but I’ve never really felt that I’ve understood or experienced it ‘well’ enough, if that makes any sense at all. I’ve always felt that it was above my artistic understandings, or that there must be more in the music that I just don’t ‘get’ because I can’t read music, or play the piano, or generate any kind of small talk about ‘great’ composers.

Unlike other art forms I’ve never felt myself entirely carried away by classical music.

I was in the Conservatorium Youth Choir for a very short time during early high school. I struggled with the rehearsals. I struggled with the music. I struggled with the musicianship classes. And the complexity, the demanding nature of this rehearsal, and of this piece of music illustrated why I wasn’t successful in my first opportunity to become a life-long ‘knower’ of classical music.

One, I didn’t have the patience (particularly as a 14 year old after the novelty of my afternoons at “The Con” wore off(.

And two, it just wasn’t my ‘thing’.

That said, I left this rehearsal eager to hear the final product. To listen to the Australian choir as they joined the German orchestra in bringing to life this massive piece of music. To see if I could, if I would feel all that Mahler wrote into his music.

Opera Socks: The First of the Hamburg Conversations Series

I drove to the first of my Hamburg experiences feeling quite anxious. I still hadn’t engaged with much outside of my new role as a mum, and the realm of the more classical arts was not one that ever felt particularly connected to. My mind was still filled with more than a few ideas about what this whole experience would be like.

I found myself making a mental ‘big deal’ out of the fact that I put on makeup that day, that I had considered wearing heels (though still ended up in a very comfortable pair of ballet flats), and that my rattly and somewhat stinky old car perhaps wasn’t suitable transport to and from any of the Hamburg events…

I took my seat amongst the rest of the audience of Conversations #1 with “renowned Wagnerian soprano” Lisa Gasteen (happy not to be the youngest, as I sat across from a pair of stylish young ladies who I decided must be diligent students from the QLD Conservatorium of Music) and busied myself with the newspaper sized Hamburg flyer.

As the conversation began I must admit I felt a little overwhelmed. My tired mumma mind was easily lost in the assumed knowledge that Wagner and Verdi were such and such composers of this and that and those operas about, you know, those characters that did that thing.

I had taken a little notepad, in which my first notes most accurately sum up my thoughts for at least the first ten minutes of the interview.

“Leo Schofield → awesome socks… pink, grey… cravat 🙂 ”

However, as the conversation continued I connected with the topics of discussion, and quickly began to soak up stories of Lisa Gasteen as a young soprano fighting her way onto the stages of Europe’s finest opera houses. Learning as I listened (context, context, context!), I gleaned a little bit about specific operas, and a lot about the commitment, determination, and sheer love of art that is required to perform it at an elite level. Particularly for Australians making their way from the small pond that is opera down under, to the Pacific sized ocean that are the opera houses of Europe.

While I do wish that I had the ‘insider’ knowledge to have shared story-specific giggles with the speakers and what seemed like the vast majority of the audience (though I’m sure there MUST have been a few of us politely following the giggle-lead of those who actually understood the jokes), I did come away wanting to watch more opera.

That is, more than the few seconds I might have seen of a grainy, filmed performance being aired on daytime SBS before I continued flicking channels and settle on a re-run of some inane American sitcom (or rather now “The Adventures of Piggley Winks”).

Connecting Lisa’s experiences, her character and her story to my own life, I reflected on the collections of short years I’ve spent in many and varied jobs. I envied her dedication, her determination and her iron-will commitment to success in a field that she loved, but one that was going to make her battle for recognition, opportunity and reward.

It was only the first of my Hamburg experiences, but I could already see how that single hour spent listening to the reflections, the ideas and the excitement of Lisa Gasteen and Leo Schofield was going to change the way I will now experience opera.

That statement alone, “will now experience opera“, takes me out of the Cremorne (my theatre of comfort) and into more formal and unfamiliar Conservatorium Theatre.

Well, that’s just what I need! More shows to see on my very generous, stay-at-home mum, baby dribble and sloppy kisses salary… 

QPAC Blogging Project #2: The Hamburg Series

In August 2012 I was invited by the Queensland Performing Arts Complex’s Scholar in Residence, Judith Mclean, to take part in a second blog project titled “The Hamburg Audience Project”.

The Hamburg Series

Centred around a series of performances by the visiting Hamburg Opera, The Hamburg Ballet, and The Hamburg Philharmonic Orchestra, it was both a challenge and a pleasure to take time out from my life as mother of a then eight month old baby, and engage with some extraordinary art.

Read here a few samples of my work from the project:


Creating Content for Instagram

With the introduction of a Facebook-like algorithm, it is more important than ever to be creating quality content for your Instagram feed.

While it is getting harder for businesses to appear in their ideal client’s feed, if you want to boost your Instagram game, the same, age-old golden rules of social media apply.

  1. Quality over Quantity
  2. Incorporate Calls to Action
  3. Aim for Real-Time Engagement
  4. Use Instagram Stories to share more candid content

Making Instagram Work for You

There are countless blog posts, articles and commentary about engagement pods, “shadowbanning”, follow/unfollow tactics and bots. And yes, some of those are still pretty sure-fire ways to increase your number of followers.

But unless those numbers are truly ideal customers, then really, what’s the point?

Be authentic.
Connect with your community.

Instagram is an amazing platform for really getting to know what your customers want. What they value. What they enjoy. Not only will authentic engagement build trust in your brand in a long-lasting way, but it will help you to refine and retarget your ideal customers in a way that benefits you both!

Sample Instagram Content

Small Business About Me Page

How to Write an Awesome About Page

Writing a memorable About Me page for a small business is your chance to tell your customers what makes you different from your competitors. It should emphasis your USP (unique selling point) in a way that reflects your branding.

In my case, one of the biggest selling points for Eighteen Fifty One (aside from the main product itself) is me! It’s the fact that each of my items are handmade. That I am, just like my ideal customers, a mum. And when my customers hold their purchase in their hands, they know exactly who made it, and where it comes from.

Here is an example of a personal, small business About Me page:


My Story

This is me. I’m Cassie. 33. Wife. Mum. Maker. This little business, Eighteen Fifty One, is entirely my own creation. Each little part of it comes from somewhere within me, and I love it.

While I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a “girly girl”, I have always loved lace. Beautiful laces are an artwork of their own, with patterns born of intricate embroidery and delicate weaves. While my creative journey began before I can even remember, watching my mother and my grandmother sew, my business journey began in 2015. With a unique idea, creating full lace bloomers for babies, toddlers and little ones, Eighteen Fifty One was born.

Inspired by how and when bloomers came to be such an enduring part of Western fashion, I have carefully designed my signature styles to highlight the luxurious detail of lace. I make every item by hand, here in my home in Brisbane, Australia – from the first draft of every pattern, to the wax seal stamped on your parcel.

My hope is to create pieces that are the perfect addition to any carefully curated handmade wardrobe. Pieces that make you gasp a little when you first hold them in your hands. Perhaps for an occasion or event… a wedding, a birthday, a family photoshoot… or just because your little one deserves something special everyday.

Running a small business is hard work. Even harder with three young children underfoot. But I love it! My business is already a success in what it has given me – personal development, community, connection, and a creative outlet to boot. I’m so grateful for the support of my husband, my family, friends. I’m so grateful for the support of YOU, as I pursue this sometimes crazy, always awesome thing called being an entrepreneur. Every order, every comment of encouragement, every connection I make is so important to me.

I would love to connect with you on your favourite social media, just tap on the links above to find me. You can also find out more about me, about my business, my products and my inspirations:

– here on my blog;

– and, on my episode of the Mums with Hustle Podcast – listen on iTunes (Ep. 62) or on the MWH website.

I have grand plans for the future and I hope you’ll join me for the journey.

x Cassie