Love and life on the land

with Karen O’Brien

Starting a shop was an absolute dream for Karen O’Brien, but it wasn’t possible in the middle of nowhere.

For 15 years, Karen lived on a cattle station in the Kimberley with her husband and four children. It was empty and vast beyond comprehension – a million acres of rugged landscape – and home to crocs, wild storms, relentless heat and snakes. So many snakes.

It’d never been my intention to live in such a rural environment, but I’d met a man called Jed by chance in Darwin while holidaying from my teaching job on the Mornington Peninsula. Originally from small-town NSW in the Snowy Mountains, his work as an agricultural scientist had taken him to the farthest flung parts of the country, where he was managing a research station in the NT.

When I came home, I couldn’t stop thinking about this tall, lanky cowboy who was not only a bit handsome, but also funny and intelligent. He had all these things going on that I hadn’t anticipated in a country bloke hailing from the middle of nowhere. I’d never met anyone like him.

I flew back into a miserable Melbourne winter, and it really matched my mood – I was wretched. At age 36, I was off men, off dating, and 100% sure I wanted to be single forever, but I’d never had this feeling before. I was absolutely buzzing. I’d have to go for a run every afternoon just to try to calm down.

I’d fly back north every school holidays, and eventually, after about a year, I decided I needed to move up there to be with Jed.

During 15 years in the far north, we made a large family and survived the brutal living conditions (did I mention the snakes?). Life in the north is Jed’s dream. Wilderness, rugged ranges, gorges, empty coastlines. He’s an amazing cattleman. It’s in his blood.

But from my point of view, it’s a man’s world. It’s tough. Everything in the Kimberley is larger than life. The bugs are big. The characters are big. The weather was big. I don’t think we ever had a day under 35 degrees and our bore water came out at 50 degrees. Storms would rip out heavy steel gates and fling them into the paddocks, or bring floodwaters full of crocs. Raising babies there came with a lot of extreme challenges and I often had sleepless nights, worried about keeping them safe from the weather and wildlife.

When my oldest was ready for highschool, we knew it was time for a change. We both wanted the kids to have good education, and that just wasn’t possible where we were. So we made a deal to move south to get the kids into good schools. Weirdly, seven different people recommended a town called Yackandandah in North East Victoria. It seemed to have everything on my list: mountains, music, culture, good community, good schools.

And so, in our late 40s, we quit our jobs and stuck our four kids and the family dog in the camper trailer, and drove south. We didn’t have new jobs or a house lined up. It was seriously stressful, but we made it work. Yack is technically a rural town, but to us – having come from the Kimberley – it’s practically a city.

We had a lot of adjusting to do in the “city” – like, the kids had to learn to tie their shoes. They hadn’t worn shoes in the Kimberley. It’s funny to think of the things that were tough initially.

It’s been so long since I’d worked as a teacher, times had changed and my skills were obsolete. Instead, I got a part time job at a boutique shop in Beechworth and I absolutely loved it. I would bounce into work every morning, and I thought: I’ve never bounced into work as a teacher. I wanted to feel like that every day. I knew I had to have my own shop, but we weren’t financially stable enough for that kind of leap.

I started small with a website, selling a brand of leather accessories that I’d discovered in Broome, called Bare Leather, as well as cow hides. I have a passion for leather and knew I had a knack for sourcing the loveliest hides and leatherwares, with the best shapes and patterning. I ran markets and had a pop-up shop, and business ticked along slowly while we did other things to earn a proper income.

It was chance that led me to my main street store in the heart of Yack. I was browsing an antique shop that’s rarely open – a gorgeous heritage-listed little building that oozes character and warmth – and I casually said to the owner, “You’re not thinking of renting this place out anytime soon, are you?” Low and behold, she was. That’s how Vivienne Cate got her brick and mortar home.

My shop is my great passion. Everything is handpicked by me and I only buy what I love. I’m not following any rules or copying anyone else. To be honest, I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time. But weirdly, so far, it seems to be working. People like what I’m providing.

The style of the shop is country-rustic meets city-modern – somewhere at the intersection of earthy and elegant. I stock items that make me feel happy, simple pleasures that have a sense of warm, cozy indulgence that the Danes call hygge. Natural fibers; neutral tones; tactile and luxurious items for the home; and, of course, leather. I’m especially passionate about small and regional artists, and I take great pride in scouting talented milliners, leather workers, ceramicists and jewellery makers.

I bounce into work every day. I love my stock, my customers, and the many challenges of running a small business. And I have absolutely landed amongst my people in Yack. It’s a really beautiful community.

Jed, however, is a cowboy through and through.

For now this is our home. I hope this is our forever place, but the Kimberley may still be calling.