Her childhood was unconventional as she grew up during the Blitz period. Years later, Joan thought it would be great to do a film about growing up with her sister during this era but her dream hasn’t come to fruition.
Even so, the actress said that as the war continued, she was just a child, unaware of the bombings. She would collect fragments of debris from the streets and store them in her cigar box each evening.
She narrated, “We would draw silly pictures of Hitler. We were evacuated 10 or 12 times. We would be in the tube stations, and people would be playing their harmonicas and singing.”
Despite the chaos, Joan Collins, who deeply loved her Anglican Briton mother, realized that she did not want to live the same life her mom lived. “Mummy was the 1950s housewife, very sweet and very docile,” she explained.
The actress had previously said that her mom, who died at the age of 52, died very young because she never spoke back to her husband.
oan also shared that “My father never held back. I saw him as a figure to look up to more than my mother. I loved her to death but I considered her to be weak and I hated all the clothes she wore.”
The actress’s mother consistently wore girdles, suspenders, stockings, tight bras, underpinnings, and corsets, which Joan disliked.
Joan, who took great care in her appearance, was voted the most beautiful girl in England by a photographers’ association when she was 18. The newspapers asked her dad what he thought about her daughter’s position, he replied, “I’m amazed. She’s a nice-enough-looking girl. Nothing special.”
At this point, Joan had departed from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA), developed a passion for French existentialism, admired the singer Juliette Gréco, and dreamed of becoming a celebrated stage actress.
The focus on her appearance was even more as her film career progressed. Joan disclosed that in Hollywood, she faced daily verbal abuse.
She recounted how the makeup department gave her cruel nicknames, such as “Moonface” due to her baby fat and “Scrawny Legs” because of her thin legs. She remembered the department as a large group of women who were particularly harsh and unkind to her.
In 1955, when Joan was 22, she was cast in the biopic about Evelyn Nesbit “The Girl in the Red Velvet Swing.” Evelyn was considered the most beautiful girl in New York and Joan was to play her.
So, one day, Joan who was still in the Juliette Gréco character and thus had no makeup and was in jeans with scruffy hair, ran into her director Richard Fleischer. Richard told her, “Oh my God, I cannot look at you – you are so ugly. You cannot go around like that – put some makeup on, get your hair done, get a proper dress.”
Just like her career, Joan’s personal life also had its ups and downs. When she was 17, still a virgin, the actress went on a date with actor Maxwell Reed, aged 31. He spiked her rum and coke and raped her.
“I was 17, but I was the equivalent mentally of 12. We did not have sex education,” she noted. Shockingly, Maxwell became the actress’s first husband. When asked why she chose to marry her rapist, she answered, “Because I come from a generation where if you’re going to have sex, you get married.”
However, when Joan learned that Maxwell wanted to give her to older men for $12,710 a night as long as he could watch, she stood up for herself. After four years of marriage, the two divorced.
In her 20s, Joan lived with several men, including Sydney Chaplin and Arthur Loew Jr. She also had an affair with a married man who was eight years her senior. As much as the man was handsome, witty, and fascinating, Joan said the affair was utter hell and she never engaged in one again.
Hollywood men, including directors, also went after Joan. In her autobiography, “Behind the Shoulder Pads,” the actress revealed that she was offered the role of Cleopatra in Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s film on the condition that she got along well with Buddy Adler, the head of Fox, and the chairman of the board.
Joan, who was disgusted by how directors and producers, who were old men, took advantage of young actresses said no as she never wanted to be a part of that. The Cleopatra role was given to Elizabeth Taylor.
In the memoir, Joan also wrote about having an abortion when she got pregnant at 26 with her fiancé, Beatty, a 23-year-old aspiring actor. Beatty convinced Joan to abort the baby because it would derail their career. Years later, she agreed with him, noting that if he had a baby, she would have had to say goodbye to her acting career.
Joan went on to have three kids. She had her first two, Tara and Alexander with her second husband, Anthony Newley. Her last child, Katyana, is with her second husband Ron Kass.
The actress’s third husband was Peter Holm and she is now married to Percy Gibson. Joan announced that she was engaged to Percy in December 2001 and then the pair got married in 2002 at Claridge’s Hotel in London, in front of 175 guests.
The lovebirds, who have been together for over two decades, met when Joan was featured in a touring production of the play “Love Letters” in the US. The Peruvian-born theatre manager also helped Joan edit her novel “Star Quality.”
Many people talked when Joan and Percy Gibson got married because he is 32 years younger than her. Joan was asked to comment on their age difference and she said, “Well, if he dies, he dies.”
In 2023, Joan gushed about her marriage saying that she had found the right man in her current husband, “Oh yes, Percy and I have been married for 21 years and it’s just marvelous.”
Now, Joan is in her 90s but she still has the youthful charm and grace in her presence. When asked if she has had cosmetic procedures done, the actress simply said with a shrug, “If people want to think I’ve had surgery, then…”
Joan added, “You can tell [I haven’t] because I have lines and jowls. When I see women around my age I think: ‘Oh, really? My gosh, I look quite a bit…’ I think I look pretty good!”
The movie star is also needle-phobic and just couldn’t bring herself to have cosmetic work done on her. She attributes her good look, perfect complexion, and youthfulness to staying out of the sun.
She added that her mom taught her to moisturize her skin and use night cream, something she also taught her daughters. Joan’s lovely appearance still amazes her fans.
In April 2024, Joan enjoyed a fun photoshoot for the New York Times Fashion and Style section. She looked radiant in a white cardigan paired with an off-white cap and black trousers.
A fan, amazed by her look, said, “You are simply iconic, dear one, and stunning ♥️♥️.” Another admirer commented, “You always look so beautiful♥️.”
When she turned 90 in 2023, a fan shared a picture of Joan taken on the streets. The actress was in a modest flower dress styled with a white coat, a sun hat, and sunglasses. The fan captioned the post, “Happiest of birthdays to Dame Joan Collins, who turns 90 but easily looks at least 20 years younger.”
At 91, Joan Collins is content with both her personal and professional life. Retirement isn’t on her agenda, as she plans to continue working because of her passion for it.
She acknowledged that performing her one-woman show and staying in a different hotel each night was exhausting, but the enthusiastic audiences and her love for her work made it a rewarding experience.
Following his purchase of a dinner for over $600 I blocked him but it turned out he was trying to warn me
Penelope’s evening seems to be getting more complicated by the minute, but then a simple dinner with David turns into a journey of shocking discoveries that challenge everything she has ever believed to be true about her family and herself. A dinner party that seemed to be going well suddenly becomes a platform for startling revelations that could change her life forever.Have you ever gone on an awful date? Indeed, I concur. This one started off really well, but let’s just say the conclusion went in a direction I wasn’t expecting. So it all began one seemingly ordinary day in the public library.
I got to know David in this way. With his teacherly charm, he started a conversation by asking me about my favorite literature. Before I knew it, we were deep in discussion on everything from classic literature to modern science fiction. It was nice to meet someone who could follow my meandering thoughts.
During our talk, David unexpectedly invited me out—not for a date, but for dinner. “Which restaurant is your favorite?” he said. I remember giggling softly, taken aback by his openness.
I responded, “My favorite place is a bit much for a first date,” but I eventually told him about it. I reserve this lovely spot for indulging in self-indulgence or celebrating personal successes. After all, you don’t typically spend $600 on dinner.
However, I wanted our first meeting to be casual, so I suggested a trendy Mexican eatery that was roughly halfway between us. I winked and added, “They have over 300 tequilas and tacos with handmade tortillas that are to die for.” It’s also quite reasonably priced.
David listened intently, but he was certain about choosing the spot. I appreciated his initiative as much as I wanted those amazing tacos. Compromise is necessary in big cities with awful traffic, especially if you live on opposite sides of the spectrum.
Now allow me to discuss my favorite restaurant. It’s this incredible location where James Beard award-winning mixologists deliver bite-sized pieces of heaven with their concoctions. Every now and then I go there just to enjoy a drink and take in the lavish setting.
David hesitated for a moment, then suddenly insisted on going to my favorite fancy restaurant. After all, who was I to argue? It is, after all, my favorite place. Thus, we departed.
The start of the evening was quite pleasant. We got the delectable little morsels I mentioned before as appetizers, and the cocktails continued to be intriguing.
Dinner was brought, dish after exquisite dish, and there was much joshing and animated conversation. We even had dessert, which is unusual for me unless it’s a really special occasion. We were clearly having a fantastic time, in my opinion.
But how did the evening unfold, my dear? After paying the significant amount, which was obviously more than $600, something unexpected happened.
My card slipped out of my bag and landed on the table out of habit. Things started to go weird after David took up the cause. Rather of simply handing it back, he examined it closely.
Then he did something that made my stomach turn to gravel: he examined every detail and stated, “You should be careful with this,” before putting the card down.
Upon further reflection, it’s possible that he had bad intentions. But it felt like a major invasion of my privacy at the time. Why did he have to be so indifferent to my card? Is there any way he could have given it back without saying something like that?
I quickly called it a night, feeling both humiliated and furious. I thanked him, if a little stiffly, got into a cab, and as soon as I arrived home, I blocked him. Nothing, not even a text or call.
I spoke with a friend about it today, and they said maybe I had been too hard on David. They said that I could have just asked him about it and that there might have been a good reason for him to look at my card.
But all I could think about at the moment was how he had ruined the whole evening and my mood. And so, while I was still thinking about the awful dinner, life decided to throw me another curveball.
Two days after I had pushed the block button on David, here he was, standing outside my house. You did hear that, that’s true. He seemed apologetic and uncomfortable, like he had something important to say.
When he murmured, “Penelope, I’m so sorry,” I could see he meant it by the look in his eyes. “I needed to make sure it was really you, Penelope Smith.”
I listened, confused as I was at this point, as he took a big breath and revealed something startling that would change my life forever. “I’m your half-brother,” was his reply, barely discernible above a whisper.
I tried to process what he had said while I blinked. How could David, the guy I recently turned down for the library date, be my half-brother? He said that the man I had always considered to be my father was not the one I was born with. Instead, it was his father who cheated on my mother. It sounded like something out of a soap opera.
The days that followed went very swiftly. We decided to have DNA testing done because this was a substantial enough claim to not rely solely on faith. The world did indeed have one more surprise in store for me when the results were in: we were, in fact, half-siblings.
My emotions were all over the place as I stood there clutching the results. I was not only surprised, but I also had an odd kind of curiosity for my unidentified half-brother. I wasn’t sure if I should tell my parents. Such details could disclose a lot of things.
In the end, I realized that some things are just too significant to overlook, regardless of the consequences. I made the decision to tell them, as I wanted, and on my terms. Meanwhile, David and I started to painstakingly create the sibling bond that none of us ever had.
Beneath the strangeness and discomfort, there was a relationship that was potentially just as important as the one I had expected from my meet-cute in the library.
Folks, that is all there is to it. A family gathering turned from a supper to a crisis of self. Is it not the case that life operates in peculiar ways?
In order to pay the bill, my significant other insisted that I give the server my card.
It was meant to be an evening of celebration exclusively. After six months at my new job, I was thrilled to finally inform my boyfriend Troy that I had gotten a huge raise.
He recommended the newest, posh restaurant in town, the one with the gorgeous interior and gourmet fare.
He said, “Lisa, let’s just get dressed and head out.” Since we don’t get to do this very often, let’s make the most of it.
We didn’t always choose to go out and do anything, I had to agree. This was not always the case.
“No problem,” I replied. “We really need to go out for a night.”
And I believed that we required it. Mostly because I had begun to see some signs of dissolution in our partnership, even though I wanted to believe that Troy and I were intended to be together forever. It felt, to put it simply, off.
Troy didn’t feel satisfied with his career, but I did.
During a salsa night one evening, he bitterly observed, “I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me.”
Troy sat on the couch, dipping his chips in the salsa and guacamole, and complained about his job for the entire evening.
Because of his opinions about my work, I refrained from complimenting him.
“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, passing him a cool margarita alongside. “It’s only been a few months since you arrived.”
“Please,” he muttered to Lisa. “You were unable to understand. Give me room to exist.
But as I found out about this incredible chance, I was giddy with anticipation. I assumed Troy would feel the same about being recognized and having a celebration.
I was astonished when he told me he was proud of me and seemed sincere about it.
“Really, babe,” he said as he arrived to pick me up from my flat. “I admire you, and this is very important.”
The start of the evening was quite pleasant. Troy waited for me to finish getting ready before showing up with a bunch of roses. This was an exception to the rule that he disliked it when I took longer to get dressed than when he arrived.
“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready!”
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