‘It was a nightmare to go out with him’: When your great mate’s a model

One day, he came over and showed me pictures of him with a woman in a white suit. He said, “This is the girl I told you I’ve been seeing. What do you think’s happening here?” I asked him if he’d married this person and, when he said yes, I said, “Get out!” I was so mad I was beside myself. Paul calmed me down, saying maybe Jeffrey hadn’t introduced her beforehand because, after all the girlfriends, I wouldn’t have let him marry someone he’d only known for eight months. I met Rachel, his wife, a few months later and, oh, she was just a ray of sunshine.

In October 2009, four days before their first child, Sierra, was due to be born, they found out that she’d passed. He rang me that morning. My heart sank. It was so black. Some men in that situation would have run away or put up defences or found a coping mechanism: Jeffrey was all-in on the grieving with Rachel, looking after her and himself. They were already close, but losing Sierra created a bond that will not break. When I was working on the nightclub door, everyone was nice to me but no one bothered to get to know me, except Jeffrey. He’s made me a better person. Don’t tell him that.

Jeff: My friendship with Dijanna has been the slowest of burns over the years. We started just hanging, living together as roommates. We had fun. We got along. There was never anything romantic in it at all. It’s normal for Americans to have guy-girl relationships. When I first came to Australia, I could see there was a separation between men and women socially. Our friendship was probably more unusual for Dijanna.

There was one time I was “tested”, shall we say. It was the early 1990s. Dijanna was back after four years overseas and I’d been in and out of the country, mainly working in Europe. We met up to play pool and, when she turned up, she looked like Jessica Rabbit. Her figure! She looked absolutely amazing! I sat there staring. Then I said to myself, “Remember, you’re friends. Don’t mess that up.” I’d had enough life experience to know the only thing to come out of this was that I wouldn’t have a friend any more.

Dijanna’s a woman of many hats. Once she puts whichever hat on, she nails it. She decides to write her first book [Wardrobe 101: Creating Your Perfect Core Wardrobe]. Boom, it’s a very successful book. She’s opening an event agency. Boom, successful. One minute, she’s starting a fashion brand, the next she’s running Prada’s PR. It was always, “You’re what?”

“When I first came to Australia, I could see there was a separation between men and women socially. Our friendship was probably more unusual for Dijanna.”

She didn’t like any of my girlfriends. That was such a constant it was almost hilarious. She was nice about it, though. After each breakup she’d say, “I didn’t really think she was right for you.” Rachel has been the exception.

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Our opening line to each other is always, “Have you got any gossip, news or scandal?” A few years ago I said, “You’re not going to believe this: I’ve got three sisters!” My dad, who split from my mum when I was two and died when I was 10, had fathered three daughters I didn’t know about. I said to Dijanna, “Have you ever got me better than this?”

When I called Dijanna from the hospital about Sierra, it was just horrific news to give someone: you’re pulling them into your grief. I could hear her saying, “Oh, my god. Oh, my god.” When you go through that kind of grief together – my wife, Dijanna and me – you become a lot closer. She’s family.

Dijanna’s a wordsmith. At The Cauldron, she could strip you down in seconds with five words: guys with macho attitudes, rock stars who were dicks, she’d go snap, snap, snap! They were like, “What just happened?”

You know what? She might have been my one really solid anchor as I travelled around the world. She is my loyal, consistent friend.

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