Isabel Preysler turns 69 this Tuesday and in her life everything has changed and nothing has changed. The years have turned her into a mature woman of serene beauty, who continues to maintain the media pull that has haunted her since she made an appearance in Spain at the hands of singer Julio Iglesias almost five decades ago. It also perpetuates the title that crowns her as one of the most elegant women on the homeland scene and that charisma between mysterious and unattainable that even her detractors fall in love with when they have the opportunity to get close to her and get to know her up close.
Much was speculated about the secrets of his success at first. Later it was consolidated as a dogma that what is, is and does not need explanation and we stopped asking questions about the reason for its success. His love record had something to do with it – Julio Iglesias, Carlos Falcó, Marquis de Griñón, Miguel Boyer, socialist minister, and now the Nobel Prize for Literature, Mario Vargas Llosa – but his ethereal air, his apparent calm in the middle of more furious tsunami and, said with a certain irony, her impeccable style as a hostess that made her sneak into the homes of all Spaniards receiving guests with a tray of chocolates in hand.
From the sweets, he became the image of luxury flooring and slipped through it in the Buckingham Palace itself, alternating with Charles of England, the longest-living heir in British history. But Isabel Preysler was already an icon and the prince only one more than those who then had the privilege of rubbing shoulders with her. At least that’s how it was for many readers of the pink press who were clear on who their queen was.
The theme is that after two separations, a widowhood, five children, six grandchildren and even an image of debatable resemblance in the Madrid Wax Museum, Isabel Preysler seems to have found the nirvana of her already historic knowledge of being rooted in well-established family Philippines. After two convulsive years after the stroke that Miguel Boyer suffered in February 2012, Isabel surprised again when at 64 she left the voluntary social confinement in which she confined herself to take care of her husband, ready to shine again in social events of postin. He did not do it alone, but at the hands of another intellectual flag man: Mario Vargas Llosa, the Peruvian writer and politician who threw himself into the void for her and broke a 40-year marriage with Patricia Llosa.
It was not the first time that Preysler walked on the edge of the media cliff, the one that always caught their respective partners by surprise. Once again the Filipina smiled without flinching, defended the power of love and let the storm pass. Today, when he turns 69, he does so in the midst of personal calm. Strengthened their relationship, without papers in between, with the Nobel Prize five years after learning that there was more than a close friendship between them; she ruled in her role as a loving mother and grandmother, but she knew how to let go of the moorings of her offspring; and light of luggage because the years tell her that her status has iron maromas that anchor her to her pedestal but that now is the time for her children to be the ones who beat the copper in the lying holes.
Isabel Preysler makes a television wait, delays a photocall and murmurs in its wake. Even Vargas Llosa himself (83 years old) has become, according to the forum in which they appear together, the consort and not the star. None of this immutates her, she is used to the effect it has caused for years. Now he prefers to manage the surprise caused by the success of his daughter Tamara Falcó in MasterChef; the wanted disappearance of his eldest daughter, Chábeli Iglesias, recluse of her own desire for anonymity between Carolina and Miami, in the United States; the armor of his son Enrique Iglesias, who moves masses and millions as a singer, but fights like a belly-up cat to keep his privacy safe – a fight that only breaks to boast of his triple paternity when the children he has had with the extenista Anna Kournikova will melt you with happiness; to welcome her youngest daughter, Ana Boyer, at home when she lands in Spain with her husband, the tennis player Fernando Verdasco, and her son Miguel; And to smile when asked about Julio José, his other offspring, who seems to be the freest soul in the family, one of the most smiling but also the one who has had the least luck as a singer.
Isabel Preysler is left for a while. The glitter of myths does not fade easily.