Elizabeth Taylor

It's sad when they close down the cinema where you watched Bambi slipped on the ice. And when they tear down buildings where you slided down the banisters. The walls you fired the football at. My grandmother, my mother, myself and my daughter know of Elizabeth Taylor.

My grandmother saw all her movies and constantly measured beauty with hers.
My mother saw most of her movies and knows how many times she divorced and probably still thinks she and Burton were meant for each other.

I saw some of her movies and stand up for her part as Cleopatra. I've also read she went in and out of rehabs, grew fat and lost weight again. Now it's business as usual, like the number of divorces, but at the time I held it up against the lovely face my grandmother used to talk about and I was confused. I honestly believed that beauty was synonymous with happiness.

Still: a Diva. And to me a Diva like Elizabeth Taylor ranks above iconic models, popstars and botoxpumped siliconistas because she didn't start out like that.

My daughter only knows the bloodshot eyes with too blue and too much eye shadow and a body forced into a glamourous silverdress designed for the red carpet no other place than Hollywood.

All four of us are from Denmark, far away from America. Internet, Google and YouTube globalized the world. But first did Marshall Aid, music, and movies. I can't imagine Coca Cola as anything but a random soft drink - without the movies. That's where it speeded up, the extensive american culture-migration.

That's why we can read obituaries in newspapers probably from Finland to Spain, from Kenya to South Africa, from India to Australia these days dedicated to an actress of all nationalities.
Elizabeth Taylor was American but she is global cultural heritage and it's sad she is gone, with and without two much blue eye shadow, with and without Richard Burton, too many pounds, and an enchanting face.