Grace Kelly
- Thread starter oanadobre
- Start date
What was the name of her white poodle?
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
topfoto
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
You are welcome
corbis
corbis
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
aci
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
From the exhibit
ibl
ibl
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
Also from the exhibit
gamma
gamma
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
chicago sun times
he walls of the Chicago Sun-Times newsroom are lined with historical black-and-white photos taken by staff photographers over the course of the last century. Their subjects range from the mundane to the magnificent -- sports heroes and presidents, icons and everymen, man-made spectaculars and natural disasters. My favorite is a photo of the actress Grace Kelly taken in 1955, a year before she became Princess Grace Grimaldi of Monaco.
In the picture, captured at the then-trendy nightspot called The Pump Room at Chicago's Ambassador East Hotel, Grace is dressed demurely in silk-satin and pearls. In the foreground of the picture, her hands, which are worrying a white cloth handkerchief, are in sharp focus, the closest thing to the observer, thrust out from the frame as if it were in three dimensions rather than two. Each time I pass that photograph, her hands make me stop and stare.
Grace has man hands. They're big and sturdy like Jerry's ill-fated girlfriend in that episode of "Seinfeld" where he's freaked out because she's an absolute beauty except for her big, beefy hands -- muscled paws that crack his lobster in half at a romantic dinner as if it were a peanut shell; big meat hooks that awkwardly, if tenderly, wipe some schmutz from the corner of Jerry's mouth.
Not unlike Jerry Seinfeld, I have a thing about hands. Apart from a person's eyes, hands are the first thing I look at when I meet someone, and I think they're almost as telling as the proverbial window to their souls. Are the hands nervous, with fraught and bitten fingers? Are they long and nimble, as if designed to tickle the keys of a piano or do acrobatics up the neck of a violin? Are they meticulously kempt, with long polished nails and no wayward cuticles or rough patches? Or are they burly and strong, with callouses and scars, the remnants of a life of hard work and adventure?
If a man has wan, delicate hands with -- God forbid -- longish nails, he may as well also have a pronounced hump, chronic body odor, and a raging heroin addiction, because that's as attractive as he'd ever be to me. One of the sexiest things about my husband is his big, strong, worry-free hands. They're like bear paws, hands he inherited from his father and passed on to his sons, and, most recently, to his newborn grandson, Aidan. I realize judging a man by the size and shape of his hands is sexist at best and most certainly irrational, but it is what it is. It's a natural predilection, the same as my aversion to cilantro and my love of stand-up comedy. Hands say so much, sometimes more than words ever could, and I want to hear what I want to hear -- something reassuring and protective and at the same time mindful, gentle, and elegant. That's me. That's what I was looking for in the hands of my true love, the hands that I was lucky enough to convince to hold mine for the remainder of our days on this Earth.
Jesus must have had man hands. He was a carpenter, the Bible tells us. I know a few carpenters, and they have great hands, all muscled and worn, with nicks and callused pads from working wood together with hardware and sheer will power. In my mind, Jesus isn't a slight man with fair hair and eyes who looks as if a strong breeze could knock him down, as he is sometimes depicted in art and film. I see him as sturdy, with a thick frame, powerful legs, and muscular arms. He has a shock of curly black hair and an untrimmed beard, his face tanned and lined from working in the sun. And his hands -- hands that pounded nails, sawed lumber, drew in the dirt, and held the children he beckoned to him. Hands that washed the disciples' feet, broke bread for them, and poured their wine. Hands that hauled a heavy cross through the streets of Jerusalem and were later nailed to it. Those were some man hands.
I've heard it said that grace is God reaching God's hands into the world. And the Bible tells us that we are part of the body of Christ, that if we let the Spirit move through us, we can become the hands of Christ on Earth. Hands that heal, bless, unite, and love. I'd like to think God's hands are a bit like Grace's man hands -- gentle but big, busy and tough. God's hands are those of a creator -- an artist who molded and shaped the universe out of a void, who hewed matter from nothingness.
I keep one of my most prized possessions in the center of our circular dining room table. It's a wood sculpture we bought on our first visit to Nairobi a while back. The story of how we came upon it is one of my favorites to tell.
It was our last day in the Kenyan capital before heading south to Tanzania. After breakfast at the Methodist guesthouse where we were staying, I checked my e-mail and found a note from my dear friend in New York City, the Jesuit priest and author Jim Martin. He'd heard that I was traveling in Kenya and asked me, if time allowed, to please stop by the Jesuit Refugee Service where he lived in the 1990s. During his tenure in Nairobi, Jim opened a shop called the Mikono Centre at the Jesuit compound where refugee artisans sell their wares. Our agenda for the day was pretty full, but we decided to swing by the shop on our way to visit some new friends in Kibera, one of two enormous slums in the city not far from the Jesuit Refugee Service. While we were browsing at Mikono through racks of textiles and paintings depicting African scenes and spiritual tableaus -- I purchased a nativity set made entirely from banana leaves -- the shop clerk asked if we'd like to see some of the artists at work. One of their most popular artists, she told us, was working on a carving in a building a few yards away.
"His name is Agostino," the clerk said.
Hearing that name felt like a thunderbolt had hit the ground. Agostino! Jim had mentioned his name to me with so much love. He'd written about Agostino in his wonderful book This Our Exile: A Spiritual Journey with the Refugees of East Africa. Jim had discovered Agostino, a refugee who had fled to Kenya from his native Mozambique, carving rosewood sculptures on a mat outside an office building in downtown Nairobi. Jim invited Agostino to sculpt at the Jesuit compound and sell his pieces at Mikono. He was one of the first artists to do a booming business and gather a following of patrons -- a man whose faith, as well as his artistry, had so inspired my friend the priest, and one of the center's great success stories.
I bolted out the door toward the building where the clerk said Agostino was carving. As I turned the corner, there he was, bent over a piece of ebony wood propped up on a broad stump that served as his workbench. He looked exactly as Jim had described him, a bear of a man with liquid eyes, soulful and with a quiet strength, like a living saint.
When I introduced myself and told him I brought greetings from Jim, he beamed.
"Please tell Father Jim that it's a good thing he started Mikono all those years ago," he said. "Now we have children and some of them are in school, and they're in school because of this."
When Agostino said "this," he motioned to the piece he had just finished carving and was beginning to stain with a delicate, long-handled brush.
It was the figure of a small black child pressing his face and hands into the palm of a giant man's hand. Even in its unfinished state, it was breathtaking. We asked Agostino when he thought he would complete the sculpture and told him we would like to buy it and take it home with us. He said he could finish it by that evening. We agreed on a price and told him how glad we were to meet him and how thrilled Jim would be that we had been able to see him.
As we turned to leave, I asked if the sculpture had a name.
"Yes," Agostino said quietly. "I call it 'Hand of God.' "
When we returned that night to collect the Hand of God, Agostino was gone and the sculpture was wrapped in paper and packed carefully in a bag for our travel the next morning. I don't recall how many days later we opened the package to take a better look at the piece, but when we did, we found an added surprise.
On the bottom of the sculpture, next to where he'd signed his name and the date, Agostino had carved a Scripture reference from the 49th chapter of the book of Isaiah. We took out our Bible and looked it up.
This is what it said:
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palm of my hands."
he walls of the Chicago Sun-Times newsroom are lined with historical black-and-white photos taken by staff photographers over the course of the last century. Their subjects range from the mundane to the magnificent -- sports heroes and presidents, icons and everymen, man-made spectaculars and natural disasters. My favorite is a photo of the actress Grace Kelly taken in 1955, a year before she became Princess Grace Grimaldi of Monaco.
In the picture, captured at the then-trendy nightspot called The Pump Room at Chicago's Ambassador East Hotel, Grace is dressed demurely in silk-satin and pearls. In the foreground of the picture, her hands, which are worrying a white cloth handkerchief, are in sharp focus, the closest thing to the observer, thrust out from the frame as if it were in three dimensions rather than two. Each time I pass that photograph, her hands make me stop and stare.
Grace has man hands. They're big and sturdy like Jerry's ill-fated girlfriend in that episode of "Seinfeld" where he's freaked out because she's an absolute beauty except for her big, beefy hands -- muscled paws that crack his lobster in half at a romantic dinner as if it were a peanut shell; big meat hooks that awkwardly, if tenderly, wipe some schmutz from the corner of Jerry's mouth.
Not unlike Jerry Seinfeld, I have a thing about hands. Apart from a person's eyes, hands are the first thing I look at when I meet someone, and I think they're almost as telling as the proverbial window to their souls. Are the hands nervous, with fraught and bitten fingers? Are they long and nimble, as if designed to tickle the keys of a piano or do acrobatics up the neck of a violin? Are they meticulously kempt, with long polished nails and no wayward cuticles or rough patches? Or are they burly and strong, with callouses and scars, the remnants of a life of hard work and adventure?
If a man has wan, delicate hands with -- God forbid -- longish nails, he may as well also have a pronounced hump, chronic body odor, and a raging heroin addiction, because that's as attractive as he'd ever be to me. One of the sexiest things about my husband is his big, strong, worry-free hands. They're like bear paws, hands he inherited from his father and passed on to his sons, and, most recently, to his newborn grandson, Aidan. I realize judging a man by the size and shape of his hands is sexist at best and most certainly irrational, but it is what it is. It's a natural predilection, the same as my aversion to cilantro and my love of stand-up comedy. Hands say so much, sometimes more than words ever could, and I want to hear what I want to hear -- something reassuring and protective and at the same time mindful, gentle, and elegant. That's me. That's what I was looking for in the hands of my true love, the hands that I was lucky enough to convince to hold mine for the remainder of our days on this Earth.
Jesus must have had man hands. He was a carpenter, the Bible tells us. I know a few carpenters, and they have great hands, all muscled and worn, with nicks and callused pads from working wood together with hardware and sheer will power. In my mind, Jesus isn't a slight man with fair hair and eyes who looks as if a strong breeze could knock him down, as he is sometimes depicted in art and film. I see him as sturdy, with a thick frame, powerful legs, and muscular arms. He has a shock of curly black hair and an untrimmed beard, his face tanned and lined from working in the sun. And his hands -- hands that pounded nails, sawed lumber, drew in the dirt, and held the children he beckoned to him. Hands that washed the disciples' feet, broke bread for them, and poured their wine. Hands that hauled a heavy cross through the streets of Jerusalem and were later nailed to it. Those were some man hands.
I've heard it said that grace is God reaching God's hands into the world. And the Bible tells us that we are part of the body of Christ, that if we let the Spirit move through us, we can become the hands of Christ on Earth. Hands that heal, bless, unite, and love. I'd like to think God's hands are a bit like Grace's man hands -- gentle but big, busy and tough. God's hands are those of a creator -- an artist who molded and shaped the universe out of a void, who hewed matter from nothingness.
I keep one of my most prized possessions in the center of our circular dining room table. It's a wood sculpture we bought on our first visit to Nairobi a while back. The story of how we came upon it is one of my favorites to tell.
It was our last day in the Kenyan capital before heading south to Tanzania. After breakfast at the Methodist guesthouse where we were staying, I checked my e-mail and found a note from my dear friend in New York City, the Jesuit priest and author Jim Martin. He'd heard that I was traveling in Kenya and asked me, if time allowed, to please stop by the Jesuit Refugee Service where he lived in the 1990s. During his tenure in Nairobi, Jim opened a shop called the Mikono Centre at the Jesuit compound where refugee artisans sell their wares. Our agenda for the day was pretty full, but we decided to swing by the shop on our way to visit some new friends in Kibera, one of two enormous slums in the city not far from the Jesuit Refugee Service. While we were browsing at Mikono through racks of textiles and paintings depicting African scenes and spiritual tableaus -- I purchased a nativity set made entirely from banana leaves -- the shop clerk asked if we'd like to see some of the artists at work. One of their most popular artists, she told us, was working on a carving in a building a few yards away.
"His name is Agostino," the clerk said.
Hearing that name felt like a thunderbolt had hit the ground. Agostino! Jim had mentioned his name to me with so much love. He'd written about Agostino in his wonderful book This Our Exile: A Spiritual Journey with the Refugees of East Africa. Jim had discovered Agostino, a refugee who had fled to Kenya from his native Mozambique, carving rosewood sculptures on a mat outside an office building in downtown Nairobi. Jim invited Agostino to sculpt at the Jesuit compound and sell his pieces at Mikono. He was one of the first artists to do a booming business and gather a following of patrons -- a man whose faith, as well as his artistry, had so inspired my friend the priest, and one of the center's great success stories.
I bolted out the door toward the building where the clerk said Agostino was carving. As I turned the corner, there he was, bent over a piece of ebony wood propped up on a broad stump that served as his workbench. He looked exactly as Jim had described him, a bear of a man with liquid eyes, soulful and with a quiet strength, like a living saint.
When I introduced myself and told him I brought greetings from Jim, he beamed.
"Please tell Father Jim that it's a good thing he started Mikono all those years ago," he said. "Now we have children and some of them are in school, and they're in school because of this."
When Agostino said "this," he motioned to the piece he had just finished carving and was beginning to stain with a delicate, long-handled brush.
It was the figure of a small black child pressing his face and hands into the palm of a giant man's hand. Even in its unfinished state, it was breathtaking. We asked Agostino when he thought he would complete the sculpture and told him we would like to buy it and take it home with us. He said he could finish it by that evening. We agreed on a price and told him how glad we were to meet him and how thrilled Jim would be that we had been able to see him.
As we turned to leave, I asked if the sculpture had a name.
"Yes," Agostino said quietly. "I call it 'Hand of God.' "
When we returned that night to collect the Hand of God, Agostino was gone and the sculpture was wrapped in paper and packed carefully in a bag for our travel the next morning. I don't recall how many days later we opened the package to take a better look at the piece, but when we did, we found an added surprise.
On the bottom of the sculpture, next to where he'd signed his name and the date, Agostino had carved a Scripture reference from the 49th chapter of the book of Isaiah. We took out our Bible and looked it up.
This is what it said:
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palm of my hands."
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
artfacts
September, 6pm
Film Club: Dial M for Murder (PG) 105 mins
Directed by Alfred Hitchcock, 1954
Chosen by Kay Rosen. Tennis pro Tony Wendice (Ray Milland) plots the "perfect murder" of his wife (Grace Kelly). When things go wrong, Wendice is forced to improvise. A Hitchcock classic with superb performances from Kelly and Milland in the lead roles.
September, 6pm
Film Club: Dial M for Murder (PG) 105 mins
Directed by Alfred Hitchcock, 1954
Chosen by Kay Rosen. Tennis pro Tony Wendice (Ray Milland) plots the "perfect murder" of his wife (Grace Kelly). When things go wrong, Wendice is forced to improvise. A Hitchcock classic with superb performances from Kelly and Milland in the lead roles.
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
Irish Times
PARIS EXHIBITION: SHE WAS A princess of American society, a princess of the silver screen and then a serene princess. Grace Kelly, the Philadelphia-born daughter of Irish ancestry, was the fairytale princess of the 20th century, and her story, in all its detail, is being told this summer in Paris.
Les Années de Grace Kelly, Princesse de Monaco, opened in Paris last week at the Hôtel de Ville, the city hall. The exhibition, curated by Frédéric Mitterrand, tells her story in rich personal detail.
"Prince Albert was very helpful in putting together the exhibition. He gave me free rein. There was no censorship, though when I came across a photograph of her in the bath he asked, 'Is it really necessary to see my mother in the bath?'" Mitterrand said.
Bath time aside, the level of detail in the exhibition is fascinating. It traces Kelly's life as a girl in Philadelphia, through her career as an icon of the 1950s and through to her fairytale marriage to a real prince and her life as royalty and as a mother.
Here you will find the childish scrapbooks of a young woman, tickets stubs and matchbook covers, gum wrappers and event programmes, with little notes of the memories they are preserving.
The career that began after drama school in New York is outlined in film posters, theatre programmes, advertising shoots and some great photographs, particularly those taken by Howell Conant in Jamaica in 1955.
There is plenty of correspondence from her Hollywood friends on show, including a letter warning her of the attentions of one Jack Nicholson.
The correspondence between Kelly and Alfred Hitchcock is charming in that it shows the obvious fondness they had for one another. She was Hitchcock's image of the perfect ice blonde and appeared in several of his films.
The wedding details are all here, too: the seating plan for the cathedral in Monaco, telegrams, notes and love letters from Prince Rainier, and her wedding dress.
That she took to the life of a princess is obvious from the diaries, and in the details she put into planning life at the palace.
The 1960s were the Monaco's heyday, with the golden couple putting it on the social map. Princess Grace revived the principality's greatest balls - the Red Cross and the Rose Ball - and transformed them into major events.
In fashion, Kelly was elegant and understated, as evidenced by the selection of her dresses on show.
The happiness of her family life is obvious in the films, which she herself shot, appearing, like Hitchcock, only in cameos. Some of the happy holidays are filmed in Ireland during family trips here.
• The exhibition Les Années de Grace Kelly, Princesse de Monaco is free, and runs at the Hôtel de Ville in Paris every day except Sundays from 10am to 7pm (doors close 6.15pm) until August 16th
© 2008 The Irish Times
PARIS EXHIBITION: SHE WAS A princess of American society, a princess of the silver screen and then a serene princess. Grace Kelly, the Philadelphia-born daughter of Irish ancestry, was the fairytale princess of the 20th century, and her story, in all its detail, is being told this summer in Paris.
Les Années de Grace Kelly, Princesse de Monaco, opened in Paris last week at the Hôtel de Ville, the city hall. The exhibition, curated by Frédéric Mitterrand, tells her story in rich personal detail.
"Prince Albert was very helpful in putting together the exhibition. He gave me free rein. There was no censorship, though when I came across a photograph of her in the bath he asked, 'Is it really necessary to see my mother in the bath?'" Mitterrand said.
Bath time aside, the level of detail in the exhibition is fascinating. It traces Kelly's life as a girl in Philadelphia, through her career as an icon of the 1950s and through to her fairytale marriage to a real prince and her life as royalty and as a mother.
Here you will find the childish scrapbooks of a young woman, tickets stubs and matchbook covers, gum wrappers and event programmes, with little notes of the memories they are preserving.
The career that began after drama school in New York is outlined in film posters, theatre programmes, advertising shoots and some great photographs, particularly those taken by Howell Conant in Jamaica in 1955.
There is plenty of correspondence from her Hollywood friends on show, including a letter warning her of the attentions of one Jack Nicholson.
The correspondence between Kelly and Alfred Hitchcock is charming in that it shows the obvious fondness they had for one another. She was Hitchcock's image of the perfect ice blonde and appeared in several of his films.
The wedding details are all here, too: the seating plan for the cathedral in Monaco, telegrams, notes and love letters from Prince Rainier, and her wedding dress.
That she took to the life of a princess is obvious from the diaries, and in the details she put into planning life at the palace.
The 1960s were the Monaco's heyday, with the golden couple putting it on the social map. Princess Grace revived the principality's greatest balls - the Red Cross and the Rose Ball - and transformed them into major events.
In fashion, Kelly was elegant and understated, as evidenced by the selection of her dresses on show.
The happiness of her family life is obvious in the films, which she herself shot, appearing, like Hitchcock, only in cameos. Some of the happy holidays are filmed in Ireland during family trips here.
• The exhibition Les Années de Grace Kelly, Princesse de Monaco is free, and runs at the Hôtel de Ville in Paris every day except Sundays from 10am to 7pm (doors close 6.15pm) until August 16th
© 2008 The Irish Times
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
Bellasugar
Born in Philadelphia in 1929, Grace Kelly knew she wanted to act by the time she was 12. She moved to Manhattan to study at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, where she worked as a model and appeared in ads for Max Factor Colorfast Lipstick, Lux Toilet Soap, and Old Gold cigarettes.
Kelly's approachable, innocent beauty earned her a seven-year contract with MGM, where she took on many movie roles in a short period of time. Directors favored her regal looks, but she was stubborn when it came to making any alteration to her appearance, famously refusing to don falsies to fill out her dress during the filming of Rear Window.
In 1956, Grace Kelly became an actual princess when she married Prince Rainier of Monaco. Even as royalty, Kelly managed to maintain an elegant yet approachable quality. She kept her look simple by wearing minimal makeup and by keeping her hair in short waves for the majority of her career. The key to getting her look is keeping brows bold, yet cleanly groomed, dusting on the faintest hint of blush, and finishing with a pop of bold color on the lips. Give hair extra body and shine by setting it in all-over rollers and misting with a shine boosting holding spray like Phytospecific Extreme Shine Spray.
Born in Philadelphia in 1929, Grace Kelly knew she wanted to act by the time she was 12. She moved to Manhattan to study at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, where she worked as a model and appeared in ads for Max Factor Colorfast Lipstick, Lux Toilet Soap, and Old Gold cigarettes.
Kelly's approachable, innocent beauty earned her a seven-year contract with MGM, where she took on many movie roles in a short period of time. Directors favored her regal looks, but she was stubborn when it came to making any alteration to her appearance, famously refusing to don falsies to fill out her dress during the filming of Rear Window.
In 1956, Grace Kelly became an actual princess when she married Prince Rainier of Monaco. Even as royalty, Kelly managed to maintain an elegant yet approachable quality. She kept her look simple by wearing minimal makeup and by keeping her hair in short waves for the majority of her career. The key to getting her look is keeping brows bold, yet cleanly groomed, dusting on the faintest hint of blush, and finishing with a pop of bold color on the lips. Give hair extra body and shine by setting it in all-over rollers and misting with a shine boosting holding spray like Phytospecific Extreme Shine Spray.
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
roomplanners.com
With a growing appreciation for old Hollywood glamour in home furnishings, it was timely to see a feature article in this month’s issue of Town & Country, remembering Grace Kelly on the 25th anniversary of her death.
Timeless and refined, Kelly remains one of the most elegant of all style icons. Hollywood actress turned Monaco princess, her chic silver screen sophistication and quiet glamour was seen in her films of the early 1950s, and in the quality and timeless style of her wardrobe.
Look for more glamorous and chic elements - many that recall Kelly’s classic style, to find their way into our interiors.
With a growing appreciation for old Hollywood glamour in home furnishings, it was timely to see a feature article in this month’s issue of Town & Country, remembering Grace Kelly on the 25th anniversary of her death.
Timeless and refined, Kelly remains one of the most elegant of all style icons. Hollywood actress turned Monaco princess, her chic silver screen sophistication and quiet glamour was seen in her films of the early 1950s, and in the quality and timeless style of her wardrobe.
Look for more glamorous and chic elements - many that recall Kelly’s classic style, to find their way into our interiors.
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
flickwit
Remembered most of all for her patrician poise, her sensuality and dignified elegance, the chemistry she seemed to generate so effortlessly both onscreen and off, and of course, her film star fame and royal union – Grace Kelly was a woman whose spirit lives on in golden immortality.
orn to wealthy parents, with a father who was one-time Olympic gold medallist and self-made millionaire, Kelly had an uneventful childhood until the age of twelve, when she set along the path that would lead to her future acting career. By the time she was twenty-two, after success in television and theatre, Kelly landed her first big leading film role with High Noon.
Many triumphs were to follow over the next three years with Mogambo, for which she won a Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress, Dial M for Murder, Rear Window, The Country Girl which earned her a Best Actress Academy Award and Golden Globe, and To Catch a Thief.
During this time, there was much public interest in her love-life. She was reported to have had affairs with the Shah of Iran, her married Dial M for Murder co-star Ray Milland, and Bing Crosby, and was engaged to Russian fashion designer Oleg Cassini.
nd marry him she did, in 1956, within a year of their first meeting. Rainier had purportedly been under pressure to marry and produce and heir, or Monaco would revert to France, and he thought a movie-star wife would be ideal in order to boost tourism and the poor economy of his country. He allegedly made very high dowry demands of the Kelly family, which gave them some misgivings, but all was settled in the end with a bridal gift to the Prince of $2 million.
After they were wed, Kelly became Her Serene Highness, the Princess of Monaco. Their nuptials were watched on television by thirty million people: a taste of things to come with Diana Spencer and Mary Donaldson, as people the world over tuned in to witness a fairy tale come true.
Nine months after the wedding, the royal couple’s first child was born – a girl, and a little over a year after that, the heir came along. Princess Grace had done her duty, and so the third child was not born for another seven years. During this time, Kelly had retired from acting altogether, and, Prince Rainier had banned all screening of her films in Monaco. Six years after she was married, Kelly was given the lead in Marnie by Hitchcock, but ended up having to turn it down because of public outcry. Fifteen years later, in 1977, Herbert Ross offered her a part in The Turning Point, but Rainier this time flatly forbid her to accept it.
In 1982, at the age of fifty-two, Kelly had a stroke while driving, and her car plunged down the side of a mountain. She died the next day, without gaining consciousness. One hundred million people watched her funeral on television: a taste of things to come with Diana, as people the world over this time tuned in to witness a fairy tale’s demise.
She was a beautiful and talented woman who left many legacies to this world, for which she is still remembered lovingly twenty-five years after her death. But for all the fame and fortune, glitz and glamour of her life, I don’t think I’d try to be like Grace Kelly – it’s really no wonder all her looks were so sad.
Remembered most of all for her patrician poise, her sensuality and dignified elegance, the chemistry she seemed to generate so effortlessly both onscreen and off, and of course, her film star fame and royal union – Grace Kelly was a woman whose spirit lives on in golden immortality.
orn to wealthy parents, with a father who was one-time Olympic gold medallist and self-made millionaire, Kelly had an uneventful childhood until the age of twelve, when she set along the path that would lead to her future acting career. By the time she was twenty-two, after success in television and theatre, Kelly landed her first big leading film role with High Noon.
Many triumphs were to follow over the next three years with Mogambo, for which she won a Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress, Dial M for Murder, Rear Window, The Country Girl which earned her a Best Actress Academy Award and Golden Globe, and To Catch a Thief.
During this time, there was much public interest in her love-life. She was reported to have had affairs with the Shah of Iran, her married Dial M for Murder co-star Ray Milland, and Bing Crosby, and was engaged to Russian fashion designer Oleg Cassini.
nd marry him she did, in 1956, within a year of their first meeting. Rainier had purportedly been under pressure to marry and produce and heir, or Monaco would revert to France, and he thought a movie-star wife would be ideal in order to boost tourism and the poor economy of his country. He allegedly made very high dowry demands of the Kelly family, which gave them some misgivings, but all was settled in the end with a bridal gift to the Prince of $2 million.
After they were wed, Kelly became Her Serene Highness, the Princess of Monaco. Their nuptials were watched on television by thirty million people: a taste of things to come with Diana Spencer and Mary Donaldson, as people the world over tuned in to witness a fairy tale come true.
Nine months after the wedding, the royal couple’s first child was born – a girl, and a little over a year after that, the heir came along. Princess Grace had done her duty, and so the third child was not born for another seven years. During this time, Kelly had retired from acting altogether, and, Prince Rainier had banned all screening of her films in Monaco. Six years after she was married, Kelly was given the lead in Marnie by Hitchcock, but ended up having to turn it down because of public outcry. Fifteen years later, in 1977, Herbert Ross offered her a part in The Turning Point, but Rainier this time flatly forbid her to accept it.
In 1982, at the age of fifty-two, Kelly had a stroke while driving, and her car plunged down the side of a mountain. She died the next day, without gaining consciousness. One hundred million people watched her funeral on television: a taste of things to come with Diana, as people the world over this time tuned in to witness a fairy tale’s demise.
She was a beautiful and talented woman who left many legacies to this world, for which she is still remembered lovingly twenty-five years after her death. But for all the fame and fortune, glitz and glamour of her life, I don’t think I’d try to be like Grace Kelly – it’s really no wonder all her looks were so sad.
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
big australia
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
Hellas
scriptgirl
Active Member
- Joined
- May 1, 2006
- Messages
- 12,226
- Reaction score
- 5
barrats
Similar Threads
Users who are viewing this thread
New Posts
-
-
-
-
Vogue Poland March 2025 : Nora Svenson by Hein Gijsbers & Gemma Janes by Tom Craig (6 Viewers)- Latest: blueorchid
-
