There’s a photo of me, at around 16, sitting on the front stoop at my house in Queens. It’s summer and I’m wearing matching gold Bermuda shorts and a sleeveless top. I would scan the photo for you to see, but I have no idea where it is now. The reason I bring it up in the first place is because most anyone who saw it thought I looked like a young Elizabeth Taylor. Of course, I didn’t think so at all, but it made me happy when someone said it.

I loved watching “National Velvet” when I was a young girl. Elizabeth was so beautiful and happy. I wanted to be her.

I saw Cleopatra with my family the night before they dropped me at Syracuse University to start my freshman year. I wanted to be Elizabeth then, too. It would have been preferable to being left behind at Syracuse.

I saw Elizabeth on Broadway in Edward Albee’s psychological play, “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?” Richard Burton played her husband. I wanted to be Elizabeth more than ever.

One of my all-time fave movies was the epic, “Giant.” If I couldn’t be Elizabeth, my life was a waste.

When Mike Todd died in a plane crash, I was 11, and was deeply sad for Elizabeth. I thought about it so much you’d think I lost someone close to me.

When Eddie Fisher left wife, Debbie Reynolds, I felt bad for her, but who could blame the guy? Once you fell under Elizabeth’s spell, you were destined to stay that way.

Elizabeth, Eddie and Debbie

Sure, Elizabeth was a little nuts, married eight times, battled drug addiction, best friends with Michael Jackson.  You’ve heard it all. But she never lost her innate grace or her self-awareness. “I’ve always admitted that I’m ruled by my passions,” she said. That’s precisely what made her so captivating, on and off the screen.

She was only 79, but she looked older at the end. “She lived hard,” Lina said. Yes, she certainly did.

My FOF friend Alicia’s 94-year-old mother lives in a nursing home in another state. Her mom is frail and was recently hospitalized for congestive heart failure. Alicia was taken aback when she learned her brother didn’t tell her about the incident.  “What could you have done?” he asked. While Alicia helps out on the financial front, her brother lives near their mom, so he attends to her physical needs.

 

She was treated like a Queen till the very end

 

 

“I would have wanted to say a proper goodbye if something happened,” I told my brother.  Their mother was in the hospital for two days and is now back in the home. Alicia is planning to visit her this weekend and take her for further medical evaluation. “My mother has told me she wants to keep living, as long as the quality of her life is decent,” Alicia said.  “She still enjoys having her hair done and playing bridge. She enjoys her life.”

Alicia is determined to do everything she can to maintain her mother’s health. Her brother, however, feels their mother’s life is coming to a close and the best they can do is to keep her comfortable.

This is a heart-wrenching discussion that takes place among families across the country. Personally, I agree with Alicia.  If my mom wasn’t ready to call it a day, and she wasn’t suffering, who am I to decide otherwise?

My friends and I were enthralled in the seventies by a dramatic British TV series called Upstairs Downstairs.  Taking place in a London townhouse, from 1903 to the 1930s, it focused on the comings and goings of the blue blood family upstairs and its “family” of servants downstairs. Separated by class, not to mention living quarters, the two groups nevertheless had similar emotions and experiences. Upstairs and down, romances flourished, secrets and gossip thrived, heartache and loss wrecked lives.

I most remember Hudson, the head of the downstairs staff, who assumed the uppity manner of his upstairs employers.  Were it not for his servant’s uniform, it would have been hard to tell them apart.

Hudson is in the front role, middle

I am often reminded of Hudson when I deal with officious people (better known as asses), including:

Arrogant administrative assistants to successful executives

Insufferable maître d’ at fancy restaurants

Cocky concierges at fancy hotels

Off-putting agents and managers of celebrities

Condescending assistants to fancy Park Avenue doctors

Nervy nannies to rich Park Avenue toddlers

Supercilious salespeople at fancy shops (remember when prostitute Vivian, in Pretty Woman, was shunned while she attempted to shop on Rodeo Drive?)

Brash doormen at fancy apartment buildings

I guess some of these people get their attitude from their surroundings and their silly “superiors.” As far as I’m concerned, self-importance is conduct unbecoming, no matter where it was born.

I received this email a couple of days ago:

Hallo:

I like very much the site!

Here in Brazil I am the first woman became a model with 50 years old, than I created a group with old models. Now, we work in publicity and fashion. All models have 50 and more. Know us www.fiftymodels.com.br

Maria Rosa

How cool is that, I thought.  Women in Brazil know about FOF and Maria Rosa took the time to compose an email in English. I wish I could write Portuguese as well as she writes English. I couldn’t wait to get home to check out her site.

Although I didn’t understand one word on it, the photos of the attractive Brazilian FOFs spoke volumes. I applaud Maria Rosa for giving FOFs the platform they deserve, in a business traditionally reserved for 19 year olds. It’s about time one of our fashion icons decided to hire FOF models. FOF Donna Karen would be a perfect candidate. Get cracking Donna.