Preysler – “Presley” or “Presly” to many Spaniards and will remain so until the end of time – is a woman who has built a halo of mystery and fascination around herself. And so it was fine as long as we knew little about them. Because we saw a lot, but always in photos. Always on that privileged side of history, reserved for people who pose well-lit and with the side of their face that suits them best. Another one of those type of women who are determined to look good on everyone and tiptoe through all the problems so we don’t screw up. Discreet, good hostesses, ideal. “I enjoy writing and personalizing gifts. “If you don’t do it, it’s not the same,” he says. A horror, come on.
The cameras have invaded Isabel’s home to show us what her everyday life is like during this endearing holiday on the Disney+ reality show Isabel Preysler: My Christmas. She wakes up to bright light well into the day and appears in the garb of a goddess to enjoy the breakfast that Ramona, the cook, has prepared for her. “The heart of the house,” he says about it.
Isabel drinks grapefruit juice, Jamaican water and more grapefruit, this time chopped, some vitamin supplements, kiwi and flaxseed for intestinal transit. She doesn’t say the latter, but we all know it. A mess of a father and my dear master that he is confronted with every morning while reading the newspaper. “I don’t like to be disturbed until I’ve finished breakfast,” he says, looking into the camera with enormous kindness.
“Grandchildren are something very special, aren’t they?” he says to the journalist who asks him the questions. TRUE.
Next we meet Alicia, who is secretary, assistant, her feet and hands. He tells him that he needs to check the glasses because he doesn’t want any “broken or chipped ones.” The house has a thousand things, a thousand rooms and a lot of bathrooms, we’re told, although none of these appear in the two chapters of the documentary. And if Ramona and Alicia are important, “the driver is very important.” And Blas, with whom he does gymnastics in the morning. “It’s a very good feeling,” summarizes Preysler, while not a speck of dust can be seen in his house and the birds are chirping and the clouds are gathering outside.
But Isabel is smart as hell and knew long before Shakira that women primarily earn money. As she gets dressed, two boxes of Rabat jewelry appear containing a pair of earrings and a ring that she will wear when she leaves the house. He drives through Madrid in his car with tinted windows and becomes nostalgic. He tells Elías about the feeling of complete freedom he had when he arrived in Spain many years ago. That you don’t have a schedule, that you can’t go out, that you don’t set foot in school because life consists of jumping from party to party. It’s a monologue that doesn’t last long because they reach their goal immediately. She calls him “Massi” because she is so familiar, but otherwise it is Massumeh, a beauty center where she goes very often and where she is already part of the family.
Isabel Preysler celebrates Christmas with Disney+
Isabel has a group of friends (three, we’re not exaggerating) that she meets up with to watch Christmas movies. He says he’s more Paul Newman than Marlon Brando and takes the opportunity to tell them that he has a photo with him “over there” because he once interviewed him. He says it as if such a fact were another piece of grapefruit for breakfast. One of the friends says that their favorite Christmas movie is Lovers because it is set at this time of the year and they find it very funny and prefer to watch it.
Then comes the more famous Isabel. All the kids except Enrique show up, all very proper and much more boring than they should be when the camera isn’t on them. She makes clear the devotion of her grandchildren, who call her Lala. She admits to a few friends that “getting older is torture” and regrets that she had to give up yoga “because Miguel was in the hospital for two months.”
But that’s the key to this almost hour and a half. Claim the 26 years he spent with the Minister of Finance and erase a little of what came before and especially of the couple that came after Miguel Boyer. This socialist gentleman who filled the house with books and they are still there, to the delight of visitors. “We’ve been there for 26 years,” says Preysler after a shot in which the initials BP, Boyer Preysler, appear embroidered on the napkins. Isabel’s amnesia is so deliberate that when she changes tablecloths, the initials that appear are hers: IP. Because after Boyer there was nothing. Only age, only grandchildren, only longing for what was. We will always have grapefruit.
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