“When she was in Paris, I happened to mention that I had a slight cold. “She runs herself ragged, doing errands, consulting doctors, finding the best medicines. “Marlene will drop everything to keep a sick friend company,” he says. ![]() Jean Pierre Aumont, an old friend who has known Marlene since 1942, says she is a devoted friend, especially in time of sickness or need, and this is an essential part of her charm. It’s a task that leaves little time for leisure.”Īnd when asked what makes a successful, lasting love, she said, “Give of yourself unconditionally and completely. And my idea of living is to make a man happy. “If I didn’t have to earn my living,” she has often said, “I’d have more time to live. Love has always been a dominant force in Marlene’s life and she thinks it should be in every woman’s. And, of course, you understand, they are both just very good friends.” When she was told about this, Marlene laughed, tossed back her blond hair, and said, in her low, husky romantic voice, “How can I decide? They are both so charming. Recently, on the eve of her fifty-fifth birthday, an item in the gossip columns of a New York newspaper read: “Two men have actually threatened to kill themselves unless Marlene Dietrich decides which one she really loves.” The alluring mystery that is Marlene Dietrich had fascinated them as it does most men who meet her. In just a few minutes, those usually cynical reporters had been converted into ardent slaves, tripping over each other to fetch cigarettes for her, light them, and bring her tea. It was as though her very presence commanded such attention, and no empress ever appeared more royal than she as she gave him her hand to be kissed. The reporters had chosen a leader for the conference and now, blushing furiously and evidently terribly ill at ease, he walked over to her and bowed deeply. She sank into an armchair, crossed those famous legs, smiled and said simply, “Bon jour.” An American tourist, just signing the register, nudged his wife and the dapper hotel manager, with years of catering to the world’s most elegant people, emitted a deep, heartfelt “Ahhhhh.” Dressed in a stunning, haze-colored mink coat, a matching mink cloche hat pulled down at a rakish angle over the shining blond hair, Marlene swept past them, the click of her high, narrow heels hushed in the deep pile of carpeting, and entered the adjoining reception room where a group of reporters were waiting to talk to her. ![]() The murmur of voices in the lobby of the Lancaster Hotel, in Paris, stopped abruptly as Marlene Dietrich walked in.
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