Oh, Darling, I’m Simply Crazy About… You

I am the definition of impatient so the thought of standing in a line for hours on end rattles me to the core.There was one line though that my usually very impatient foot tap came to a complete halt. It was when I queued up with a thousand other fanatics outside the immaculately kept Christies on kings Road.  I had a backpack that was weighing me down and my phone battery was questionable, but I was now minutes away from a once in a lifetime opportunity. I was about to spend the night immersed in between Audrey Hepburn’s personal collection of clothes, photograph’s and vinyl records before they were auctioned off never to be seen together in the same place again.

At 6 o’clock the first group of people were let through, that included me. We were directed up a large flight of red velvet stairs. It was there that we were greeted by a ceiling to floor photograph of Ms. Hepburn staring softly into the camera, wearing a pink dress and white gloves she was pressed up against a wall of matching flowers, it was truly breathtaking.

As I rounded the corner I could see a set of black and white photographs hung symmetrically along the hallway. I had seen these photos over the last couple of years many many times, however never in person. They are classic and timeless and capture the  true beauty of Audrey Hepburn. This collection in particular warmed my heart. Out of all the photographs I have seen these draw an extremely eerily alikeness to my own mother who radiates the same beauty and elegance similar to that of Audrey.

As the crowds started to spill into each room of the exhibition I panicked trying to to find what I was really there for…. Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was written in black cursive writing on a white plaque with original stills, letters of correspondence and memorabilia of the film framed below. So, there I stood in my trench coat the closest thing I could find in my wardrobe to resemble the ever so stylish Ms. Holly Golightly. It became extremely overwhelming as I realised just exactly what I was looking at. These pictures and letters contained so much history and reminded me of all the times I had watched the film or sat outside Tiffany’s listening to moon river by myself in absolute content. To me, this was the closest I was ever going to get to Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I ignored the tears and attempted to just concentrate and savour the moment.

Sadly I had to move, I was being  pushed on by a group of older woman dripping in pearls. In any other circumstance I would have been furious but I found myself staring at the next collection of items which happened to be from Charade. One of my personal favourite films starring the handsome and classy Carey Grant. My nan had encouraged me to watch the film several times over the years, but at the time I didn’t want to betray my beloved breakfast at Tiffany’s. However, I couldn’t resist the witty script and the blossoming onscreen romance between my favourite two people Carey and Audrey.

While it was a night that I will never forget I can’t help but feel saddened that I will never see the real photographs in person ever again. I am though lucky enough to have them printed in a catalogue that rests on a table below my black and white photographs featuring the likes of Audrey, Carey and Marilyn. I do wonder about the people that will buy her personal collection. I wonder if they would treasure those photographs or that trench coat like I would? I can only imagine that the items they are lucky enough to buy, bring them as much happiness as what they brought me in the short time I was able to lovingly stare and admire them.

– M


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s