People often ask Willy and me what a typical day looks like, and the honest answer is that there isn’t one.
No two days are ever the same. One morning might begin with coffee together at home before Willy drops me at the office on his way to Mother — his bar and bakery. Other days we’ll squeeze in lunch between shoots, pick up fashion samples, drop off menus, or end the evening at the sauna, debriefing on the drive home.
It’s busy. Sometimes chaotic. And if I’m honest, it isn’t always perfect.
More often than not, we’re like ships in the night. I’m wrapping up a day of meetings, shoots, and deadlines just as Willy is heading into service. There are days when one of us is running late, the other is waiting outside a meeting, or we’re coordinating a handover over text because plans have changed for the third time that day.
But somehow, we make it work. We’re constantly passing the car — and each other — between commitments. Neither of us works a traditional nine-to-five, so the car is constantly changing hands, adapting to whoever needs it next.
The boot is rarely empty. More often than not it’s carrying props, boxes, or whatever the day happens to require. My days are spent moving between the office, studios, meetings, and locations, and somewhere along the way I’ve learnt that my office isn’t always my desk.
Willy co-owns Grey Lynn neighbourhood venues Mother and Lilian, so his days look very different to mine. They revolve around supplier meetings, menu tastings, checking in at both venues, fitting in the gym, and preparing for service before the evening begins.
Somewhere in the middle of the day, Willy will often swing past the office with a coffee, lunch, or a sweet treat because he knows I’ve forgotten to stop. While I’m thinking about the next deadline, he’s already thinking about dinner, the groceries, or what we need for the week ahead. It’s one less thing for me to think about, and I don’t take that for granted. It’s one of the reasons I’m able to throw so much of myself into my work.
Those moments are probably my favourite part of sharing a car. When our days so rarely align, those small rituals become the way we stay connected. Because it’s the place where our days overlap, we’ve come to appreciate the details that make time spent in it feel considered.
The first thing we both loved about the Audi Q3 was the interior. Every detail feels intuitive, from the minimalist cabin to the redesigned gear selector, which creates a cleaner, more open space. It’s refined without ever feeling overdesigned, which is probably my favourite kind of luxury.
The technology is no different.
Rather than demanding your attention, it quietly works alongside you. Whether it’s asking the AI assistant to navigate to my next meeting while my hands are full, helping us find the quickest route across the city, or remembering our individual driver profiles so every handover between us feels completely seamless, it’s the kind of technology you appreciate most because it quietly fades into the background.
The Audi Q3 is designed to move effortlessly between work, home, and everything in between. With intuitive AI technology, personalised driver profiles, and a beautifully considered interior, it quietly adapts to the rhythm of everyday life.
Living and working within the same pocket of Auckland means our days are made up of short trips between home, the office, Mother and Lilian. The Audi Q3’s compact exterior makes navigating narrow suburban streets and finding parks effortless, while still managing to carry everything our two very different careers require.
Then there are the quieter moments that bookend the day. The drive home after service. Early mornings before the city wakes. Those are the moments when the Q3’s lighting technology really comes into its own.
Like the best design, it doesn’t need to shout. It simply feels right. Perhaps that’s what resonates with us most.
Although our careers look completely different on paper, they’re both rooted in the same philosophy: creating experiences that make people feel something.
Whether it’s a beautifully told story, a memorable meal, or a thoughtfully designed object, we’re drawn to things that have been made with care.
The older we’ve become, the more we’ve realised luxury isn’t really about having more. It’s cooking dinner together after an ordinary day. An unexpected coffee delivered to the office. Sunday mornings with nowhere to be.
A car that quietly keeps pace with the life we’ve built together.
Learn more about the Audi Q3 at audi.co.nz
This article originally featured in the Spring ’26 issue of Fashion Quarterly.
Words: Georgia Bramley
Photography: Ruby Jayne Hamilton
