Today, here at Miss Fancy Says… we wish to farewell somebody very Fabulously Fancy indeed.
I first met Judith Cobb in 1997, when she called to offer me life modelling work at Melbourne School of Fashion. We already had many colleagues and acquaintances in common, and, from that very first session, we hit it off. Soon enough, we were firm friends, and those drawing classes in that funny little building in Fitzroy became a big part of my modelling schedule, but more importantly, our friendship became a treasured aspect of my life.
Judith was somebody who, in her very unassuming way, embodied what might be called natural glamour. Her tall frame, and megawatt smile meant that everybody always noticed her. As a set and costume designer, her professional reputation was enormous, and she was also an extremely talented painter. In her working life, she achieved many things about which she was deservedly proud, (read more about Judith’s professional achievements herein The Age obituary) but was very modest about most of it… except for having seen Guy Pearce in his underpants. That particular milestone was mentioned more that once!
It would be remiss of me here, to not say what a joy she was to model for – sometimes I’d be asked to come in just so that the students could draw my feet! She believed strongly in comfort and breaks, and being able to chat while you worked. She was also the only person I’d ever allow to write bookings into my diary without checking the dates with me beforehand.
During the course of our friendship, we shared many experiences. Countless lunches, dinners and coffees. Myriad conversations about where to source the best feathers, flowers and sequins – finally, somebody who understood the real joy of frippery! Her Indian themed 40th birthday was a real highlight. I’d spent many hours constructing a five-tiered ‘Taj Mahal’ cake, but every painstaking moment was worth it just for the look on her face when she saw it. Her speech that night was simple and eloquent; she spoke of the fact that, as someone who had no blood relatives left, “my friends are my family”, and certainly, more than almost anybody I know, she had a real and impressive talent for friendship. We were in the middle of a bank of bookings when she first started seeing her beloved Gill, and so I got the scoop very early on, and she was one of the first people I told when I met my darling man.
She was a bridesmaid at my wedding, and shared my excitement every step of the way. I recall standing in the front room of her home, while she sewed the roses on my wedding dress, assuring me that they were attached firmly enough “to last sixty performances.” On the day itself, while all about me was chaos, she came and sat beside me while I had my hair and makeup done, and kept me distracted from looking out the window, where rain was pouring mightily.
I have memories of evenings spent at her home, with her beloved pets, Lucy and Baxter keeping us company, and warm Summer afternoons posing while she painted my portrait at House of Windsor, the studio that she shared with some of her closest friends. I remember the day she bought her little house in Richmond, and I remember the day of her beloved Aunt Marie’s memorial service, and a simply constructed eulogy, delivered bravely, and with a heart full of love. I have heard many eulogies in my life, and this one still stands alone for it’s rhythm and beauty.
Judith passed away on January 26th of this year, aged only 51. To my monumental shame, I only found out about her death last Wednesday, and purely by accident. A friend had gotten engaged, and we were talking weddings. She asked about my dress, and I responded that my friend Judith, who had been a costumier for the MTC revamped one of my old modelling costumes. It was then that another friend who was present said “Is that Judith Cobb? Isn’t it tragic.” As it turns out, this woman is a neighbour of Judith’s very dear friend Will.
So now, I am left wondering what it was that was so important that kept me busy enough that I managed to lose touch with Judith over the last few years. I thought of her often – most days, in fact, because she gave me one of my most prized possessions, a Sacred Heart which hangs in my dining room, and so she pops into my mind almost as often as I see it – but when I stopped modelling, we drifted out of regular contact. And suddenly, here we are. I always thought we’d find one another again. Fondly imagined, I suppose, that I had plenty of time. I was wrong.
I cannot say goodbye to Judith in any way that it tangible, but I can ask you to join me in raising a glass, metaphorical or otherwise, to one of the most truly Fabulously Fancy women I ever had the absolute joy and privilege know.
Goodbye, my darling friend, and thank you for a million things.
Miss Fancy Says 