Read Online Stories From Candyland by Candy Spelling - Free Book Online
Authors: Candy Spelling
Ads: Link
beauty tips Elizabeth Taylor, Lana Turner, Audrey Hepburn, and Ingrid Bergman generously shared with me through these fan magazines.
And then I became a celebrity wife. In Hollywood terms, I’m a celebrity by marriage and a celebrity by motherhood. And in the “industry,” that makes me a celebrity.
Celebrities get way too much attention and credit, but they certainly sell movies, music, products, and all forms of entertainment. Thanks to more TV stations, reality shows, and the Internet, there are more celebrities than ever before, although not all of them will be as enduring as those I grew up loving.
There’s a big celebrity culture that you’d have to be here in L.A. to appreciate or truly understand. There are celebrity shoppers and stylists, shoemakers to the stars, top entertainment valet parkers, lots of star hairdressers and makeup artists, supermarkets and restaurants where celebrities supposedly gather, leading celebrity dog groomers (I think the dogs belong to the celebrities, but maybe it’s “celebrity dogs”), and many more.
Being a celebrity, knowing celebrities, working with celebrities, writing about celebrities, feeding celebrities, repairing celebrity cars, and photographing celebrities—these are just some of the elements of our local economy. There is no end to the public’s fascination with all things (and people) celebrity.
Do you remember Sally Field’s often-misquoted “You like me . . . you really like me!” cry at the 1985 Academy Awards? (She actually said, “I can’t deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me.”)
I understand what she meant. Celebrities (and celebrities by marriage and motherhood) are never quite sure if people like them for themselves, or because they just want to be part of the celebrity world.
And that’s where my house comes in. I live in a “celebrity house.”
I knew we were asking for it, building the largest home in Los Angeles. We didn’t set out to build the largest home. In fact, because I couldn’t read blueprints, I was often surprised by what was eventually built. I had no concept of how the size on the blueprints translated to actual size. My gift-wrapping room should have been larger, and two of the powder rooms could use more space. My office could have been a lot smaller. I kept adjusting my guesses as I saw the room sizes. It was far from a scientific way to operate, but we were so happy with it. We just wanted a great house that had everything we’d dreamed about. We knew how fortunate we were that years of success in television were allowing us to live out our dreams.
I’d like to explain some misconceptions about our house.
First, yes, it is called Spelling Manor, or just The Manor. It was built on the site of the old Bing Crosby house, and “Crosby Teardown” just didn’t resonate.
Second, it does not have 123 rooms. I don’t know where that number came from, but it’s not that many; and I refuse to count the rooms. It’s better to truly be able to say, “I don’t know.” I can say there are many rooms in my 56,500square feet of living space and 17,000-square-foot attic on our five-acre property.
Third, yes, there is a bowling alley in our basement. My husband loved to bowl, and he found it quite relaxing. But when we were building the house, there weren’t very many local places to bowl, and as more and more people found out Aaron loved to relax by bowling, anytime he entered a bowling alley, he would be barraged with head shots, videotapes, résumés, and lists of credits by people aspiring to acting careers. One night, an aspiring actor actually jumped into Aaron’s lane while he was getting ready to bowl and started reciting lines from a
Starsky & Hutch
episode. Aaron never recovered. That night, he proclaimed that our new house would have to have its own bowling alley.
He really liked the bowling alley, and our family and friends often hung out there. We had a big sectional couch on a raised
And then I became a celebrity wife. In Hollywood terms, I’m a celebrity by marriage and a celebrity by motherhood. And in the “industry,” that makes me a celebrity.
Celebrities get way too much attention and credit, but they certainly sell movies, music, products, and all forms of entertainment. Thanks to more TV stations, reality shows, and the Internet, there are more celebrities than ever before, although not all of them will be as enduring as those I grew up loving.
There’s a big celebrity culture that you’d have to be here in L.A. to appreciate or truly understand. There are celebrity shoppers and stylists, shoemakers to the stars, top entertainment valet parkers, lots of star hairdressers and makeup artists, supermarkets and restaurants where celebrities supposedly gather, leading celebrity dog groomers (I think the dogs belong to the celebrities, but maybe it’s “celebrity dogs”), and many more.
Being a celebrity, knowing celebrities, working with celebrities, writing about celebrities, feeding celebrities, repairing celebrity cars, and photographing celebrities—these are just some of the elements of our local economy. There is no end to the public’s fascination with all things (and people) celebrity.
Do you remember Sally Field’s often-misquoted “You like me . . . you really like me!” cry at the 1985 Academy Awards? (She actually said, “I can’t deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me.”)
I understand what she meant. Celebrities (and celebrities by marriage and motherhood) are never quite sure if people like them for themselves, or because they just want to be part of the celebrity world.
And that’s where my house comes in. I live in a “celebrity house.”
I knew we were asking for it, building the largest home in Los Angeles. We didn’t set out to build the largest home. In fact, because I couldn’t read blueprints, I was often surprised by what was eventually built. I had no concept of how the size on the blueprints translated to actual size. My gift-wrapping room should have been larger, and two of the powder rooms could use more space. My office could have been a lot smaller. I kept adjusting my guesses as I saw the room sizes. It was far from a scientific way to operate, but we were so happy with it. We just wanted a great house that had everything we’d dreamed about. We knew how fortunate we were that years of success in television were allowing us to live out our dreams.
I’d like to explain some misconceptions about our house.
First, yes, it is called Spelling Manor, or just The Manor. It was built on the site of the old Bing Crosby house, and “Crosby Teardown” just didn’t resonate.
Second, it does not have 123 rooms. I don’t know where that number came from, but it’s not that many; and I refuse to count the rooms. It’s better to truly be able to say, “I don’t know.” I can say there are many rooms in my 56,500square feet of living space and 17,000-square-foot attic on our five-acre property.
Third, yes, there is a bowling alley in our basement. My husband loved to bowl, and he found it quite relaxing. But when we were building the house, there weren’t very many local places to bowl, and as more and more people found out Aaron loved to relax by bowling, anytime he entered a bowling alley, he would be barraged with head shots, videotapes, résumés, and lists of credits by people aspiring to acting careers. One night, an aspiring actor actually jumped into Aaron’s lane while he was getting ready to bowl and started reciting lines from a
Starsky & Hutch
episode. Aaron never recovered. That night, he proclaimed that our new house would have to have its own bowling alley.
He really liked the bowling alley, and our family and friends often hung out there. We had a big sectional couch on a raised
Similar Books
