READY, SET, GOU
“EUGH, DISGUSTING!” exclaims Peggy Gou loudly. The petite, energetic 29-year-old springs up, knees to cheeks, her black Nike x A-Cold-Wall* trainers now teetering over the edge of a bench. It’s swelteringly hot, and we’re in a hotel courtyard just metres from the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The reason for her disdain? A pigeon, perched dangerously close above our heads. “This is what I hate. You just came here to poo? Disgusting,” cries Gou again. She turns back to me: “Anyway, do you think I’m tanned? I got a good colour from Bondi Beach yesterday.”
While most DJs are familiar with the jetlag-induced fatigue that their career demands, Gou appears immune. In fact, she’s currently running at 100km/h. When
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