“You couldn’t take a bad picture of her if you tried.” – Leo Fuchs
Last year I poured quite a bit of my heart and adoration into a tribute to Audrey Hepburn on her 82nd birthday. I’m known in my circle as “the Audrey Hepburn girl” (when I’m not being called “the Paris girl” or, conveniently, considering their mutuality, “the girl who stole the Eiffel Tower”). It’s needless to say I treat the memory of Audrey with a lot of reverence and contemplation. In Our Huckleberry Friend: Remembering Audrey Hepburn I cultivated the many reasons why I love Audrey and the influence she’s had on my life, putting them into words in a way that I’m still rather proud to look back on. It’s been one of my favorite moments in the history of The Girl Who Stole the Eiffel Tower and something like that feels almost impossible to top, to duplicate, when another year comes around. And here it is: another birthday for a woman nearly twenty years gone from our world, yet never forgotten, and always influencing us with the kindness and spirit of an angel.
Considering that I name Audrey as my paramount inspiration in life and style it would be appropriate for me to have a special story of the first time I saw her, and the undoubtedly instantaneous way she struck me with her beauty, grace and so on. Yet…I have no such story. On the contrary, it’s a little funny: not only is my memory of the first time I saw Audrey rather bleak, but the very first of her films that I can recall seeing was My Fair Lady. I couldn’t stand it; my sister, our little friend and I sat down to watch it and our ages, coupled with the subsequent short-lived attention span, led us to turn the film off after just a few scenes. To the film’s credit I have seen it several times, revisiting it in my less dollhouse-obsessed, more curious teenage years, and I have enjoyed it. But regardless, it doesn’t make for the most enchanting story of, “The first time I saw Audrey”. It’s a bit anti-climactic, really; but I imagine I made up for it with an unseemly amount of Sabrina re-watches (an embarrassing amount of which likely include me mouthing the words to “La Vie en Rose” along with her.).
One thing I remember clearly, though, was my first foray into discovering more about the woman behind the little black dress and dripping jewels. Much as I adored Audrey, I didn’t have a very clear idea of who she was off-camera; I knew nothing of her experiences during the Nazi occupation in Holland, the dashed dreams of being a ballerina, the two divorces and numerous miscarriages which ravished her lifelong vision of a traditional, cozy family life. Learning about all of these things, the unspeakable moments of sadness and hardship in the life of a woman who had brought to me nothing but smiles, joy and amateur impersonations of Sabrina elegantly cracking an egg (“It’s all in the wrist”); it all seemed so unfair. But then, Audrey proved what her true gift was: the act of overcoming, enduring and always, always having hope. She took a life riddled with sorrow and in it she, eventually, created bliss: her two sons, her final and dear beau (Robert Wolders), her work for UNICEF to benefit children across the world, her friendships, gardens, animals – for every hard blow she was dealt she gave yet more love back to the world.
When I first considered writing about Audrey on her birthday I thought I might create a list of lessons she’s taught me throughout my life, but in the end I think that was the apex, the one that matters more than all the rest: every time you feel hurt, sad or ill-used put forth love. And every time you feel happy, contended or blessed put forth love, too. It’s the most powerful force we have.
Images via: Doctor Macro
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