Valentina Volante shares her story below…
Swishing side to side in front of the mirror, I couldn’t stop grinning.
I felt fabulous!
“Mummy, come look at my outfit!” I called.
It was 2009, I was six years old and strutting around in Mum’s dressing gown, pink ugg boots, oversized sunnies and smudged pink lipstick.
My mum, Edwina, appeared in the doorway, her eyes lighting up.
“You look positively glamorous, darling,” she said, smiling.
Mum always had a bold sense of style – think leopard print, red lipstick and sky-high heels – and she encouraged me to express myself however I liked.
But while I felt confident at home, school was a different story altogether.
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Growing up in Kyneton, a small town in regional Victoria, standing out wasn’t exactly celebrated.
By the time I hit 16, the teasing became fairly regular.
Girls at school would openly mock me.
“Look at her make-up!” one scoffed as I walked past.
“Who does she think she is?” another laughed.
Upset, I talked to my best friend Eva.
“Don’t let them get to you,” she told me.
“You’re unique, which is something they’ll never be.”
Her words stuck with me.
In 2022, after finishing high school, I made the move to Melbourne.
I didn’t know many people there, but the city felt like a fresh start.
“Everyone’s just more themselves here,” I told Mum over the phone.
In my two-bedroom apartment, I embraced my inner glam queen.
I decorated the space with pink ribbons, vintage handbags, glittery and pink photo frames and retro pin-up art.
My landlord was okay with this because my decor is renter-friendly and doesn’t damage the paintwork.
“Is this Barbie’s house?” Eva said in awe when she came round to visit.
I scoured op shops and online for colourful treasures, building a wardrobe of bold pink outfits inspired by Bratz dolls and Barbie.
With stacks of jewellery, fluffy heels and clip-in hair extensions, I created a look that felt like me.
It took me two and a half hours to get ready each day, but I finally felt like I was living authentically.
Still, as much as I loved my look, city life could feel a little lonely.
“I think I need a little companion,” I confessed to Mum one day.
“Maybe a cat or a dog?” she suggested.
“They’re a lot of work, and not suited to my tiny apartment,” I sighed.
But the idea stuck.
Then I remembered how much I’d adored my childhood guinea pigs.
They were sweet, quiet, lower-maintenance and just as loveable.
One afternoon, I was scrolling through Facebook Marketplace when I spotted her.
A long-haired beauty with a soft grey face and silky fur, looking for a new home.
My heart melted.
“She’s absolutely perfect,” I whispered.
I messaged the seller straightaway.
“I’d love to give her a home,” I wrote.
She was four hours away, so Mum picked me up from Melbourne and we drove together.
Before we left, I created the perfect little pink guinea pig home, buying a guinea pig pen and customising it with soft bedding, tiny floral cushions and sparkly pink accessories to match my apartment.
When we finally arrived, the seller welcomed us.
The sweet, fluffy little girl from the ad was even more beautiful in person.
I held her close and felt my heart swell.
“I can’t wait to show you your new home,” I told her.
Then, the seller surprised me.
“I’ve actually got another girl if you would you like her, too?” she asked me.
She gestured to a fluffy brown, grey and white guinea pig with big, gentle eyes.
My knees nearly gave out.
“I’ll take her!” I said, beaming.
We bundled them into their travel carrier and headed back.
“What will you name them?” Mum asked on the drive.
“The grey one is Pearl Grey,” I said.
It was my own little play on Earl Grey, my favourite tea.
“And the white-faced one is Porcelain Doll, because she looks like a tiny, perfect doll,” I said.
Back at home, the girls settled in quickly.
Working from home meant I could spend loads of time bonding with them.
Their little pink palace grew over time.
I added mirrors, toys for the girls and even magazine clippings.
Every day, I’d serve their meals – lettuce, carrot and cherry tomato – on a beautiful pink platter.
I spent hours each day styling them, brushing their long hair and clipping tiny bows I found in the kids’ section at department stores.
My girls are my world and I have spent hundreds on them.
One day, I posted a video of us dressed in matching outfits online and people went wild.
The comments were polarising, but I didn’t care.
“She makes me look normal,” someone scoffed.
“Just a queen and her princesses,” another gushed.
Loads of people tell me I look like my guinea pigs and that’s the biggest compliment.
They’ve filled my apartment – and my heart – with love, colour and joy.
I truly believe we were meant to find each other.
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