It was a glorious evening. The mid-high moon, winked its reflection from the harbour waters at the metropolis before me; the city in turn returned the favour. Its 'sailed' Opera House shimmered, the silvery wings of its roof beckoned and I stepped into the waiting cab and made for its vastness. For tonight, my first in Australia 's most-visited city; was to be spent immersing myself in culture inside this architectural wonder at a performance of one of Shakespeare's best-loved comedies, Twelfth Night.

The production and the Opera House lived up to my expectations and, after a scrumptious after-theatre snack with the odd cocktail thrown in at the delightful Opera Bar; I decided I had “arrived”. Sydney was beginning to run through my veins. The next day's fashion show was, momentarily, forgotten. I woke a little late the following morning with my secretary banging on the suite door. Models needed to be made up, garments pinned to fit, and last minute alterations done. My other world had surfaced.

Besides the fact that the catwalk needed to have a few unruly nails replaced, the carpet re-tacked down and a second delivery of flowers ordered for the displays, everything went off amazingly well. Show over, models thanked and rewarded with bouquets, my secretary instructed; I snuck off. It was 2.30 p.m., leaving me with plenty of time on my hands before fretting over the next show in two days time.

After a quick swim and shower at the hotel, I opted for a stroll through The Rocks, the harbour-side Sydney suburb in which many of the city's best hotels are located. Sydney's colonial past is, to a degree, preserved in this fabulous inner-city precinct. I wandered down towards Circular Quay (where one can catch the ferry across to one of the world's best zoos, the Toronga Zoo), and continued around the harbour, passing the Museum of Contemporary Art and old wool sheds now housing restaurants and shops.

It was while here that I discovered a real connoisseur's treasure, the Italian Village, offering a perfect setting and al fresco cuisine in a splendid converted three-storey historical stone warehouse. I opted for an early night, knowing that I had two full days ahead of me to experience my host city to its fullest. I needed to recharge my energy bank.

Breakfast over, the next morning found me dressed in grey climbing gear staring up at a rather large coat-hanger shaped construction, the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Having completed the compulsory briefing and safety demonstration, I was about to embark on a Sydney experience like no other, the famed Bridge Climb. Unlike the likes of Paul Hogan (once a painter on the bridge, better known for his film Crocodile Dundee), heights and I weren't the best of buddies. However, I am a 'view fan' and if others could do this, so could I.

A little over an hour later, wind-battered but smiling, I was on top of the world. Boats in all shapes and sizes drifted under the steel supports and girders and cars and trains crossed the bridge in busy uniformity. The gentle hum of the city, its foreshores and waterways reached me. I held my breath, not in fear, but in awe. The view before me was worth every strained second it took to get to my perch, high above the living, breathing city below.

The descent was almost as knee-shaking as the climb had been, but I was able to savour the views more as I was no longer worried about making it to the top. On reaching terra firma again (3,5 hours after I set out) I knew I had just had one of the most thrilling experiences ever. I felt very special, knowing that not everyone made it to the top. Adrenalin coursing through my body, I decided further exercise was on the cards. After satisfying my hunger pangs, I set off to discover another side of the harbour, quite different from the picture most have of the city.

I made my way to the Sydney Harbour National Park. Covering some 388 acres in total, it is home to beaches, parks, old buildings, stretches of wild bush-land, sandstone caves and numerous rocks rubbed smooth by spearpoints, bearing witness to the city's Aboriginal past. Not a single continuous strip of land but a series of separate foreshores and islands, most of the park is located on the north side of the harbour.

Walking routes are well marked and vary in length. The 9.5 km Manly Scenic Walkway was the one I chose this pleasantly warm afternoon. Joining Spit Bridge with Manly, the walk meanders though heath-covered sandstone headlands, past the historic Grotto Point Lighthouse, several gorgeous beaches, Aboriginal sites, moist pockets of subtropical rainforest and some highly desirable real estate.

Returning to the hotel, I found a note from one of my models asking me to join them on an evening harbour cruise. It was a pleasant way to relax, quietly gliding across the harbour water, cherry-decorated cocktail glass in hand, friends nearby and a twinkling city promising more excitement, pulsating on the shore.

My last free day caught me shopping, browsing through bookstores and antique shops, crawling past jewellery stands, sampling pastries and buying gifts for my niece and nephew back home. I was in heaven. “The Lord Nelson” supposedly the oldest surviving pub in Australia, was my watering hole choice that day and I sat back, watching life pass by and contemplated my lot. The fashion shows were a success, orders for my designs suggested others would certainly be on the cards. I would return, within months if I could organise it.