Best known as host of the SBS hit TV program RocKwiz, Julia’s corporate MC skills are in constant demand nationally. A trained actor and improviser, she effortlessly offers a hosting style that companies return for again and again. The clients who have “enjoyed her charm and wit” include the Australian Film Institute, French-Australian Chamber of Commerce & Industry Victoria, Canteen, Panasonic, National Gallery of Victoria, Women in Business, Ikea, Siemens and Toyota, to name just a few. Julia is GMans special guest on big Brekkie.
The highly anticipated Easter weekend staple returns better than ever. The team behind the much-loved Australian music trivia TV show will be joined by special guests from the worlds of music and comedy. Co-hosts Brian Nankervis and Julia Zemiro will be joined by the RocKwiz Orkestra and The Wolfgramm Sisters and they could not be more excited! It was 12 years ago that RocKwiz saluted the Sidney Myer Music Bowl as part of its 50th anniversary celebration but now RocKwiz’s Really Really Good Friday makes its triumphant debut at our iconic venue. Keep an eye out for this year’s line-up!
“To say I have missed performing with my RocKwiz brothers and sisters would be an understatement! I will be holding back tears when I step out on stage to a beautiful audience once again at the magnificent Bowl! Get ready to Rock!” - Julia Zemiro “Putting on our traditional Easter RocKwiz extravaganza at the Bowl is very exciting – a tonic for the RocKwiz gang to be back there! To have the opportunity to step out from the salubrious and sophisticated Hamer Hall, venture across St Kilda Road, through the gardens, up a hill and into the outdoor wonderland that is the Sidney Myer Music Bowl is a huge thrill!” - Brian Nankervis
Price range Each order incurs a $9.35 Service Fee There are 3 ticket categories for Live at the Bowl. Each option reserves a designated area for a group of people and must be booked in one transaction. You are welcome to book a group ticket for fewer guests than specified, however you will receive and pay for all seats within the designated area.
My dad, Claude, was a French restaurateur in Bondi for five years. He taught himself to cook and would say, "Caramelise your onions, it puts natural flavour into something and makes the house smell amazing." We also share a love of chocolate. When I was six, I would run down to his restaurant – we lived upstairs – to find the industrial-sized chocolate he used. I would hunt high and low and realise he had hidden it. I finally matched my father when I looked inside the oven and there it was. Dad was six when his father died in the early 1940s. His mum wasn't able to cope with four kids alone. She kept the two girls and sent the boys to an orphanage and from there they joined the merchant navy. That's where he learnt to cook and sew – and to bring his pay home to my mum. Dad had a terrific grandmother and great aunt. The two women looked out for those kids in a way their mother couldn't. I think that's what made my dad the nester and nurturer he is. My mum, Jane, is from Queensland. She taught French and took a boat to France in her early 20s. Dad was a waiter on that boat; they started dating, married and had me. I was two when we moved from France to Australia. My parents separated when I was nine years old but I maintain a close relationship with them both. I couldn't speak a word of English upon arrival in Australia but I remember my maternal grandpa Tom cracking macadamia nuts beneath his big Queenslander because it was cool under there. I would watch him play golf and we'd feed the ducks. He was in the war and worked as a refrigeration repairer.
My first kiss was in primary school, with Jean-Philippe. He was the kindest boy. We ran around the back of a shed one day and kissed on the cheek. One of my celebrity crushes was Alan Alda from M*A*S*H. I would watch him every night at 7pm on the TV. He looked a bit like my dad when he was young with jet-black hair. He was funny, cheeky and emotional.
I couldn't find a posse of boys I wanted to hang with in my teenage years – they were from another planet. It wasn't until I did drama classes on Saturdays that there was a reason to talk to boys. I had no boyfriends in high school and didn't take a boy to my year 12 formal either. It was during my second year at Sydney University, and while I was part of the dramatic society, that I met Andrew. He played the guitar, wore no shoes, could sing and was so gentle I could talk to him about my nerves of being with someone for the first time. We smoked a lot and worked on plays together. It ended in a very grown-up way with a discussion on a park bench.
I've had wonderful relationships, but often with men younger than me. I thought I would meet someone and have a family, but that didn't happen for a number of reasons. RocKwiz didn't come along until I was 38 and I guess that's the time when I might have started a family. I have been mostly solo rather than in long-term relationships. I was single for eight years while living in Melbourne in my 40s. For the first five years I felt okay, but for the last three I was quite lonely.
It's hard to meet someone when you're in the public eye. These days, everyone has a phone and you can't have a one-night stand for fear of someone deciding to take a photo of you while you're sleeping. I lived in that kind of fear. I met my partner, Carsten, on a plane. In 2013 I was en route to Denmark to host Eurovision and was reading a book about Denmark, and upon exiting he struck up a conversation because he recognised me. He said, "I know you're going to Denmark soon. I'm Danish." We spoke for 10 minutes walking out from the gate. He kissed me on the cheek and it didn't feel weird. I found him trustworthy even though I didn't know his surname, or what he did. I thought, if Carsten wants to find me, he can. But then I searched LinkedIn and made contact online. We went on a few dates and slowly got to know each other. Carsten is divorced with two sons and runs a construction company. He is independent and loves my world. He isn't annoyed by it, or overwhelmed – and let me tell you, lots of men have been. He knows I'm an outrageous flirt on stage but that's where it ends. This article appeared in Sunday Life magazine within the Sun-Herald and the Sunday Age
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