The houses are painted lilac, pink and orange, the trees are delicately-manicured and tied with ribbons, and the scent of fresh lavender floats in the breeze.

Everything in Noiva do Cordeiro, nestling deep in the hills of southeast Brazil, has a distinctive feminine touch.

And no wonder: the rural town, which lies 300 miles north of Rio de Janeiro, is populated – and governed – almost entirely by 600 women - 300 of whom are of working age and eligible.

Mysteriously cut off from the outside world for more than a century, they are renowned for their beauty – but also for their stubborn refusal to live in a man's world.

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Risky assignment: MailOnline's Matt Roper (center bottom in blue shirt) with the residents of Noiva do Cordeiro

Seeking arrangement: The town of 600 is almost entirely made up of women - 300 of whom are eligible

Independent: The women do everything for themselves. From commercial farming to building their own houses

Here, the women make the rules and do most of the work - from running the town's finances to tilling the land and even building their own houses.

Meanwhile, the few men lucky enough to live here know their place – which includes making themselves scarce during the week and returning only at weekends.

Unknown outside Brazil until now, the town hit the headlines after reports suggested its women were looking for husbands – sparking a frenzy of male interest from around the world.

One of its residents, Nelma Fernandes, made the appeal to a newspaper, saying: 'Here, the only men we meet are either married or related to us. I haven't kissed a man for a long time. We all dream of falling in love and getting married.'

You wouldn't cope. Almost everyone who lives here grew up like this, they have no problem living in such isolation. At night there's nothing to do, nowhere to go, apart from getting your pyjamas on and cuddling up - Selma Fernandes

MailOnline spent two days in Noiva do Cordeiro – which translates 'Bride of the Lamb' – and discovered a carefree, caring and hardworking community where girl power is well and truly alive.

Thousands of men from around the world have since answered Noiva do Cordeiro's women's appeal for eligible bachelors.

In the first 24 hours after the town's peculiar dilemma hit the headlines in late August, the community's only public phone rang over a thousand times, according to Rosalee - although most callers were not speaking Portuguese and none of the residents could understand them.

The town's Facebook page went from under 500 likes to nearly 15,000, with hundreds of messages from single men offering themselves as husband material.

One from Tofy Guesti, posted this week, reads: 'Hi, I'm 31 years want to come to your city then get married !!!!!! Who will contact me'

Another suitor, Redzep Kurtic, wrote: 'I asking for help... I wana (sic) marry some girl from Noiva do Cordeiro... I am 22 years old, and I am from Serbia... Please can someone hellp (sic) me to make some conntacts (sic)'

Sharing: Selma Fernandes said: 'When I get fed up of my clothes, I just pop into one of the other girls' homes and choose from hers. I don't even need to ask. We all get together to do each other's hair, nails and make-up, and make sure everyone looks stunning'

Pampering: Selma added that some men might find the isolation hard in the town. She said: 'At night there's nothing to do, nowhere to go, apart from getting your pyjamas on and cuddling up'

Bilal Abbas wrote: 'i come to know about your village through the news of daily mail... i am interested in your advert... any one can text me.'

American Walker Jay didn't wait for a response, posting a photo of himself with the words: 'I'm coming to learn Farming/Agriculture and to meet a women of my dreams to marry and learn all your ways as one.'

And Jack Enright tried to win the women over by posting: 'Looks like Paradise and I am a Horticulturist.'

If any potential suitors arriving in Noiva do Cordeiro are given the welcome I was, they will be easily captivated by the town and its admittedly strikingly beautiful inhabitants.

Any man interested in one of our girls needs to understand that. If you want to come here you'll need to live as we do. And that means accepting that you won't be in charge - Vilma Viera

Eagerly awaiting my arrival, the women had cooked a special delicious meal made from fresh produce they themselves had hand picked from the local fields.

As I tucked in a number of them sat around attentively, appearing genuinely interested in knowing more about me and my life, and eager for me to teach them some English words.

Expecting to feel intimidated by a place where the women make the rules, the girls made sure I felt at home and at the centre of their attentions.

And even though I had planned to stay just a few hours in the town, they insisted I stay for at least two days - they had even prepared my bedroom, where the was delivered a constant supply of home baked cakes, biscuits and other snacks.

In the evening I joined the community for their weekly variety show, where the women put on drama, dance and choir performances, including a raunchy set by Keila Gaga - Noiva do Cordeiro's own Lady Gaga impersonator, who burst out onto stage from inside a coffin wearing suspenders and a skimpy leotard.

By the time I had woken up at 5.30am the next morning and joined the women - including Keila Gaga, chatting and singing, as they huddled together in a van to go work on the fields, I already felt part of the family.

Naked truth: Vilma Viera, 38, who runs the town's lingerie factory said: 'Here we're all free. We live with the heart and no-one is the owner of anyone. Any man interested in one of our girls needs to understand that. If you want to come here you'll need to live as we do. And that means accepting that you won't be in charge'

Fun time: MailOnline joined the women on one of their weekly entertainment nights where there was a Lady Gaga tribute singer (not pictured)

And later that afternoon, as I leave Novia do Cordeiro, and as dozens of women bid me farewell by waving their arms and singing 'bye, bye my love' as I go, I'm sure I could make this idyllic place home.

But Selma laughed: 'You wouldn't cope. Almost everyone who lives here grew up like this, they have no problem living in such isolation. At night there's nothing to do, nowhere to go, apart from getting your pyjamas on and cuddling up.

'Anyone else would get bored pretty quickly. It might seem like an ideal existence, especially if you find a beautiful young wife, but it wouldn't be long before you'd be missing the life you're used too, I can guarantee it.'

I must confess I am not so sure.

We all live in peace and harmony, we never argue, ever. Everybody asks us the same question, and when we tell them there are no fights, no-one believes us - Rosalee Fernandes

They all insist there is never any bitching, bickering or backstabbing.

'We all live in peace and harmony, we never argue, ever' insists Rosalee Fernandes, 49, who has lived in the town since she was born. 'Everybody asks us the same question, and when we tell them there are no fights, no-one believes us.

'But it's how we've always lived, that's what's normal for us.'

Rosalee, who represents the town as an elected councillor, adds: 'The first time I saw people fighting for their space was when I entered politics. It's the way men rule the world. It's not how we do things here.'

The town dates back to 1891, when local girl Maria Senhorinha de Lima was forced to marry a man she didn't love, and ended up courageously leaving him after three months.

She was branded an adulteress and chased out of town after the local Catholic church excommunicated her and the next five generations of her family.

History: The town dates back to 1891, when local girl Maria Senhorinha de Lima was forced to marry a man she didn't love and left him. She was branded an adulteress and chased out of town

Making a living: Every morning the town's women wake up early to head to the fields, where they plant and harvest sweetcorn, peppers, aubergines, tangerines and other produce. Selma Fernandes, above

Taking care: It's tough work in the hot sun, but as Edinele, 30, says: 'We're very vain. We put on sun-cream, gloves and cover our heads'

Shunned by the local population, she and other women who also went to live with her were villified and loose women and prostitutes, causing them to isolate themselves from the outside world.

'We suffered prejudice for decades,' says brunette Edinele, 30, one of Maria Senhorinha's great-granddaughters. 'Even the local cemetery had a separate place to bury us.

'They thought that just because we had chosen to be in control of our own destiny, there was something wrong with us.'

In 1940, an evangelical pastor, Anisio Pereira, took one of the women, aged 16, to be his wife, and founded a church in the community.

But he imposed strict puritanical rules, banning the women from drinking alcohol, listening to music, cutting their hair or using any type of contraceptive.

Edinele says: 'Some of the women married men from another church he had founded in a nearby town. But religion didn't make us happier, it made us poorer.

Some of the women started to say, "hold on, this isn't right, we can do much better without all these man-made rules. Why do we need religion when we've got God in our hearts?

'Without contraceptives, they had big families and ended up going hungry because there were so many mouths to feed.

'Some of the women started to say, "hold on, this isn't right, we can do much better without all these man-made rules. Why do we need religion when we've got God in our hearts?"

'So they took matters into their own hands. By the time Anisio died in 1995, they'd pulled down the church he'd built and decided never again to let a man dictate how they should live. Then they started rebuilding their broken community – on their terms.'

Today, Noiva do Cordeiro is a thriving and wealthy community – 300 of whom are working age eligible women - thanks to the way its women came together.

Some trained to be seamstresses and fashion designers, then won grants to buy sewing machines and set up a small factory where they manufacture lingerie to sell.

They also set up an association and began to work the land, negotiating contracts to sell their produce to supermarkets in the nearest city, Belo Horizonte, 60 miles away.

Every morning the town's women wake up early to head to the fields, where they plant and harvest sweetcorn, peppers, aubergines, tangerines and other produce – loading the trucks and driving the tractors themselves.

It's tough work in the hot sun, but as Edinele says: 'We're very vain. We put on sun-cream, gloves and cover our heads.

'The last thing we want is to get burned and wrinkled. When we get back we doll ourselves up and make sure we're back to gorgeous again.'

Hopes: Selma said: 'All the girls dream of getting married and having a family. There aren't many opportunities to meet a guy you're not related to, it's difficult for them'

Communal: Seventy single women live together in the Mother House, along with the matriarch of the community, Dona Delina, Maria Senhorinha's last surviving granddaughter

Recently, they also convinced the government to invest in an IT project in the town, and now use the internet to learn extra skills, as well as pick up fashion and make-up tips.

As the women took back control of their town, the men – which make up just ten per cent of the population – were encouraged to leave them alone during the week and find work in the city.

And perhaps for that reason the community began to organise itself in a much more harmonious - and distinctly feminine way - based not on rules or dogma but on mutual love and respect.

While many families have homes in the town, the women spend most of their time in a central community centre called 'Mother House', where they cook and eat together, chat and enjoy each other's company.

Another 70 single women also live together in the Mother House, along with the matriarch of the community, Dona Delina, Maria Senhorinha's last surviving granddaughter.

Selma Fernandes, 31, says: 'We share everything, and we do everything together. It's a great way to live.

It's the same when one of us is building a house, all the women get together to build it. There isn't much that we women can't do on our own. There are just a few heavier jobs we leave for the boys - Selma Fernandes

'When I get fed up of my clothes, I just pop into one of the other girls' homes and choose from hers. I don't even need to ask. We all get together to do each other's hair, nails and make-up, and make sure everyone looks stunning.

'It's the same when one of us is building a house, all the women get together to build it. There isn't much that we women can't do on our own. There are just a few heavier jobs we leave for the boys.

'Whenever we work together we sing songs and tell stories. Even when the work is heavy it's still enjoyable.'

Selma describes how, every Saturday, the community comes together for a variety performance.

'That's also the time when we make sure we're well with everyone. If there's something I might have said or done which could have hurt another, I write them a letter and read it out in front of everyone. That's why we never have any problems. We open our hearts and bare our souls, and let the love show.'

So with so much love to share, what of Noiva do Cordeiro's appeal for eligible bachelors?

Selma, who married one of her own cousins, admits the lack of available men is one of the downsides of living in such isolation.

'All the girls dream of getting married and having a family. There aren't many opportunities to meet a guy you're not related to, it's difficult for them.

But she warns: 'We've had thousands of offers from all over the world. But men who come here looking for love need to know that here things are different.

Warning: Selma said that men looking for love need to know that things are different. The women rule

Live as we do: Husbands are expected to wash the dishes, help in the kitchen and clean the toilets. Selma said it is not that 'we're anti-men, no, but here we are all equal'

'Our husbands are expected to wash the dishes, help in the kitchen, clean the toilets. It's not that we're anti-men, no, but here we are all equal. That's why I don't think men who aren't used to things here won't last very long.'

Vilma Viera, 38, who runs the town's lingerie factory, also warns potential suitors they might be in for a shock.

She says: 'Here we're all free. We live with the heart and no-one is the owner of anyone.