Every day there seemed to be another breakthrough, another platform and another prediction about how it would change everything. I wondered where someone like me fitted into that world.

I’ve spent more than 30 years working in media, strategy and leadership. I know how to build brands, connect ideas, uncover opportunities and ask questions that help businesses move forward. I don’t know how to build AI models.

Then I started working with a team developing AI solutions for businesses.

I expected to spend most of my time trying to understand the technology.

Instead, something unexpected happened.

I realised I hardly needed to think about the technology at all.

The conversations weren’t really about AI.

They were about businesses.

Where is the friction?

What’s slowing growth?

What’s wasting people’s time?

What problem are we actually trying to solve?

What outcome are we trying to achieve?

AI was simply the tool.

The strategy came first.

That was my lightbulb moment.

For years, I’d thought my value came from understanding industries, spotting patterns, connecting dots and helping businesses see opportunities they hadn’t yet recognised.

It turns out those skills haven’t become less valuable because of AI, they’ve become more valuable because AI without purpose is just technology.

AI without a clearly defined problem is simply another piece of software.

It still takes people to understand context.

It still takes experience to ask better questions.

It still takes judgement to know which opportunities are worth pursuing and which aren’t.

I walked into that meeting thinking AI might expose what I didn’t know.

I walked out realising it had reminded me of what I do know.

That’s when I stopped seeing AI as the story.

I started seeing it for what it really is: one of the most powerful tools we’ve ever been given to solve problems, unlock opportunities and help people be more efficient.

The real value doesn’t lie in the technology itself.

It lies in the people who know what they’re trying to achieve.

The leaders who understand their business.

The strategists who can see around corners.

The people who know their customers.

The teams who understand where the friction is.

AI can only accelerate a direction, it can’t decide which direction is worth taking.

Perhaps that’s why I’m more optimistic about AI today than I was a year ago.

Not because I understand the technology any better , but because I understand where people fit within it.

And maybe that’s the conversation we should be having.

Not whether AI will replace us, but how our experience, judgement and curiosity become even more valuable when paired with extraordinary new tools.

Technology answers questions. People decide which questions are worth asking.

As the founding editor of Marie Claire Australia, and later working with founders, CEOs, boards and brands, I’ve spent my career helping shape ideas, build businesses and understand why some people and organisations thrive while others lose their way.

One thing has become clear to me.

The answers we’re looking for rarely come from doing more. They come from seeing differently.

The best opportunities are often already there.

The challenge is recognising them.

That’s why I created Frankly Speaking.

This is a place to explore the observations, conversations and questions that have shaped the way I think. Some weeks we’ll talk about leadership. Other weeks it might be trust, reinvention, culture, AI, media or simply making sense of a world that’s changing faster than ever.

There isn’t a single theme because life doesn’t fit neatly into categories.

What connects everything I write is a belief that clarity comes from perspective, curiosity and honest conversation.

I’ve learned that the greatest value isn’t in having all the answers. It’s in helping people see themselves, their challenges and their opportunities differently.

That’s the spirit behind Frankly Speaking. Not to tell you what to think, but to offer a different perspective, challenge assumptions and perhaps help you recognise an opportunity that was there all along.

Every week I’ll share a new essay with all subscribers. Some will explore what’s changing in the world around us. Others will reflect on the lessons I’ve learned throughout my career or the conversations that have challenged my own thinking. My hope is that every piece leaves you with a new perspective you can apply to your work, your leadership or your life.

Along the way, I’ll draw on my own experiences, the remarkable people I’ve met, the businesses I’ve worked with and the moments that have shaped my thinking. Whether you’re building a business, leading a team, navigating change, wondering what’s next or simply looking for a fresh perspective, I hope you’ll find something here that resonates.

More than a publication, I hope this becomes a community of curious people who are generous with their ideas, open to different perspectives and willing to share what they’ve learned. The best conversations—and often the best opportunities—rarely happen in isolation.

For those who’d like to go deeper, I’ll also be opening a limited number of one-to-one Strategic Conversations. These sessions are designed for founders, leaders and anyone at a crossroads who wants an experienced sounding board to help challenge their thinking, uncover opportunities and move forward with greater clarity. I’ll share more about how these sessions will work as the community grows.

If that sounds like the kind of conversation you’d like to be part of, I’d love you to subscribe.

Welcome to Frankly Speaking.

I’m looking forward to the conversation.

AI is reshaping industries overnight. Start-ups are challenging century-old businesses. Reinvention has become a business model. Every day there’s another expert telling us to move faster, disrupt harder and forget the old rules.

It raises an important question for many of us who have spent decades building careers.

What role does experience play in this new era?

I’ll admit, it’s something I’ve been reflecting on. Maybe you have too.

But the more I think about it, the more I believe we’re asking the wrong question.

Experience doesn’t expire.

It becomes context.

The knowledge built over decades doesn’t disappear because a new technology arrives. It becomes the framework that helps us understand where the opportunities are, and where the risks lie.

The ability to navigate a crisis. To lead through uncertainty. To read people, not just data. To understand culture, politics and organisational dynamics. Those aren’t outdated skills.

They’re trust-building skills.

And trust is becoming one of the rarest and most valuable assets in business.

AI can generate answers. Data can identify patterns. But neither can replace judgment. Neither can replace perspective earned from making difficult decisions, getting things wrong, adapting and trying again.

That’s where experience matters.

This isn’t an argument against innovation. Quite the opposite.

The future belongs to innovators.

But innovation is stronger when it’s grounded in wisdom.

The best founders I’ve met aren’t looking for someone to tell them “how it used to be.” They’re looking for people who can help them see around corners. People who’ve navigated uncertainty before. People who understand that while technology changes, human behaviour rarely does.

Maybe the next era isn’t about one generation replacing another.

Maybe it’s about combining velocity with wisdom.

Curiosity with context.

Innovation with trust.

The businesses that win won’t simply be the fastest. They’ll be the ones people trust enough to follow.

So perhaps it’s time to stop asking whether experienced professionals are being left behind.

Maybe we’re exactly what the next generation needs, not to slow them down, but to help them build something that lasts.

I’d love to hear what you think.

Is experience being undervalued today? Or are we entering a new era where trust, judgment and lived experience become our greatest competitive advantage?

Why the future of media isn’t about who publishes the story, it’s about who we’ve chosen to believe.

I think the most interesting part of what has happened this week isn’t actually Karl Stefanovic.

It’s what his departure represents.

Whether people agree or disagree with his choice of guest is almost beside the point. The bigger story is that one of Australia’s most recognisable television broadcasters has effectively chosen an individual platform over one of the country’s largest media organisations. In his farewell message he argued that audiences should be exposed to different perspectives and trusted to make up their own minds.

That idea stopped me.

Because it took me back almost 30 years.

When we launched Marie Claire in Australia, our editorial philosophy was surprisingly simple. We weren’t there to tell women what to think. We were there to present the issue, challenge convention, explore both sides of an argument and trust the intelligence of our readers. Sometimes they agreed with us. Sometimes they didn’t. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that they had enough information to make an informed decision.

Somewhere along the way, that relationship changed.

Today, we don’t simply consume media. Media consumes us.

Algorithms decide what we see before we’ve decided what we want to know. Feeds optimise for engagement rather than understanding. Opinion is rewarded over curiosity. Confirmation bias has become a business model.

Ironically, we’ve never had more information, yet many people feel less informed.

And trust has become the rarest commodity of all.

This isn’t just a crisis for journalism. It’s a crisis for institutions, brands and leaders. Every organisation is now competing in an environment where everyone has a publishing platform and almost no one is universally believed.

For years we thought the disruption would be technological.

Perhaps it’s actually human.

We’re rediscovering something we’ve always known: people trust people before they trust institutions.

Not because individuals are always right, but because authenticity feels more believable than corporate perfection.

That’s why Substack is growing. Why podcasts continue to flourish. Why newsletters are replacing newspapers for many readers. Why creators, founders and subject-matter experts are building audiences that rival traditional publishers. It’s less about rejecting media than rejecting mediation itself.

We’re witnessing a shift from institutional authority to earned trust.

But that creates another question.

If everyone has a voice, who earns the right to be heard?

Trust has never been about volume. It’s never been about followers or algorithms or the blue tick beside your name.

Trust is built through consistency. Through intellectual honesty. Through allowing complexity to exist rather than forcing every issue into a binary choice. Through saying, “Here’s what I know. Here’s what I don’t know. Here’s another perspective.”

Perhaps that’s what we’re really searching for.

Not more voices.

Better ones.

The future of media may not belong to the biggest publishers or the loudest creators. It may belong to those who can create environments where people feel informed rather than influenced, challenged rather than manipulated, and respected enough to reach their own conclusions.

That’s certainly the media I wanted to help build when we launched Marie Claire.

And, perhaps surprisingly, it’s the media many of us are looking for again.

What was I thinking? I wasn’t a journalist. I’d never edited anything in my life, never mind up rooting my life in New York, leaving everything behind and heading home to Australia to launch an iconic magazine in one of the most competitive markets in the world.

Overwhelming, just a touch! 

What I hadn’t understood was the competitive nature of what I was walking into. There was no kumbuya moment .The competition started immediately. In my very first week back in Australia I was asked to speak at an industry fashion breakfast. The editor of Vogue walked past me, smiled and said, “Looking forward to hearing what you have to say.” It wasn’t encouragement. It was meant to throw me off my game, which it did, and  I thought: Okay, so that’s how it’s going to be. Then  there were the articles written by competitors saying why Marie claire and more pointedly why I  will fail. It got very personal .I wasn’t use to this kind of scrutiny, it hit hard at all my insecurities. From then on the papers had a story, they called it the “magazine wars”. The battle was on!  

I was lucky the team rallied , they were every bit as committed as I was. We were audacious — combining investigative journalism with high-gloss fashion shoots in exotic locations, making Marie Claire the “thinking-woman’s magazine” which we wore with pride.

The launch party was pure 90s excess, hosted at the home of Matt Handbury ,Altona, on Sydney Harbour,which by the way was still under construction. It was clothed in hundreds of yards of fabric. There were fireworks, hundreds of guests, a floating dance floor, and even a flaming sambuca accident involving a waiter. Then the street was lined with waiters so guests could sip champagne as they walked to the party. Minimalism wasn’t on the agenda, it was Australia’s answer to the big Gatsby.

But behind the glamour was constant pressure. Marie Claire had come in and disrupted the landscape, redefining what a fashion magazine could be. I knew fashion, but I also knew the magazine had to stand for something more.

And that’s what defined us. From day one, we campaigned:

Reconciliation : Nicole Kidman on the cover in a white T-shirt with the word splashed across it. Simple. Powerful. It was also the first year of big brother and one of the contestants wore the T-shirt in the house! 

Paid maternity leave : 8 years of relentless coverage, until the law finally changed. When it did, the government wrote to thank Marie Claire  recognising our contribution for helping make it happen. I’ve kept that letter.

Domestic violence & child abuse putting hard, uncomfortable truths on the page when others shied away.

Mental health covering depression and anxiety openly, when there was still stigma around even saying the words.

Marriage equality long before it was popular, or safe. We campaigned on Sunrise, took it to Martin Place, right into people’s lounge rooms over breakfast TV. Lobby groups tried to get me fired. I was told it was “too political” for a women’s magazine. But my CEO backed me. We both believed Marie Claire had a platform — and we were going to use it.

It wasn’t glamorous behind the scenes. I worked all hours, calling friends overseas, juggling time zones, hustling for talent. People called me tough but fair, and I’m sure they called me lots of other things, but for the most part it was a tight group of like minded people pushing the boundaries building something that mattered. Some of them still there! 

Now, three decades later, I can still feel that mix of exhilaration and terror. Launching Marie Claire was the wildest ride of my life. It was groundbreaking, exhausting, petrifying — and worth every second. Because Marie Claire gave women a voice. And sometimes, it even changed the law. I’m proud of that legacy. Proud of what we achieved, and proud that Marie claire today is still fighting for women’s issues. I couldn’t write this without congratulating the current team, that cover with Celeste B is brilliant, bold and clever.

Thank you to all the people who shaped this journey, too many to mention. 

It’s all in my past now, but I feel so lucky. Two of the most important, formative decades of my life . I can’t wait to see how Marie Claire pushes forward in the next 30 years. 

Fashion is fabulous, but women’s lives, their rights, their stories, their equality, that’s always the real headline.