Cayetana de Alba, Rachel Welch, Sid Vicious, and the nude in Ibiza – Journal Page Seven

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In a Spain that premiered freedoms, the nude began to be seen in the coves in ibiza. In the pitiusa island is reinterpreted the jipismo and bare fashion Ad Lib, with the white flag. For there walked around a duchess of Alba embarrassed by his loss and married a Rachel Welch surpassed by the fame. In London, meanwhile, was born the ‘punk’.

Under the August sun, the faces of Ibiza were like slices of bacon burned; but the smiles were bright as those of the trout, they remembered that people who plays the lottery and wins. Executives of holiday, intellectuals and artists with a shirt of linen despechugada and pants baker had the glow of a thousand fireflies bouncing around inside of a jar. It was ‘cool’ to live naked, to bathe often and to contemplate the flexible body on the beach. Total, the island was a parallel universe whose philosophy was to let go, to pass the wake-up and adorning themselves with beads, leather, and hanging with the goddess Tanit, to be sold in the market stalls of Santa Eulalia. The country was relocated to a new freedom and puretas had to hoist the white flag and surrender to the thugs of global such as King Crimson, Cat Stevens, Frank Zappa, Joni Mitchell and Mike Oldfield, which he stopped by the balearic islands, and found the inspiration to write swaying in the warm breath of the lebeche.

That summer, Mejía Godoy sang ‘are your perjúmenes, woman, that I sulibeyan’ and a wave of sex-filled Glory’s, Pacha and other places of perdition, where Miguel Bosé slumbered beneath the earth with ‘Linda’, the Carrá with ‘Party’ and Pablo Abraira with ‘Hawk or dove’. Songs all of them to the side of the ‘Give a Little Bit Supertramp’ had the personality of a paper cup. And more still if the comparabas with the music that sounded in the rocking room Xaloc, in the neighborhood of Ses Figueretes, where the smoother was Ian Dury whispering: ‘Wake Up And Make Love With Me’. It was already many centuries Diodorus Siculus had written that Ibiza inhabited by barbarians of all backgrounds: it was a diagnosis, but is also a prophecy involuntarily, because they have reached the ‘hippies’ to the sweet savagery of leisure and perpetual cookies marijuana on the feast of the drums of Benirràs.

Ibiza was a Insula Barataria of secluded coves where those ‘peluts’ could see the face of Vishnu on a cliff from where you atalayaba the sun looked like a fried egg and explore the sounds of caves singing a song of Janis Joplin with ‘unpluggeds’ guitar.

In the coves of Sant Antoni were the first women without bra and in other more withdrawals practiced nudism. Luis Buñuel was happy on the island, playing cards, taking a ‘dry martini’ or teaching a foreigner to drink in botijo. Sometimes I went to a small theatre of puppets street Santa Maria to see a mermaid with the voice of the chirimía which rose out of a sea of cardboard. This genius surreal had just rolled, ‘That obscure object of desire’ with the ibiza adoption Ángela Molina, was 21 years old and had not forgotten their seasons, as a teenager on the island, when he painted squares with sailing boats that he sold to tourists. Then he met the French photographer Hervé Timarché, 10 years her senior, and gave it their all on a night beach, and full moon. That summer, in the port, the painter Ramon Jesus Vicens drew to Angela, next to a hound called ‘Zorba’.

It’s been five years that Cayetana de Alba had forsaken, and he weighed the life. The 4th of July, in Marbella, his son Alfonso married Maria Hohenlohe to 800 guests. The duchess first put morros to this wedding, then he put sea in the middle and moved to Ibiza. There he could stroll through the Marina and purchased at the flea markets a few wool socks of Formentera. We took some photos in the bikini and criticized, but was comforted with a German count who invited her to Munich. The ‘flirt’ did not last long and the press attributed to other courtships with bullfighter Antonio Ordóñez, Mondeño and Manolo Gonzalez, and actors like Arturo Fernández and Paco Rabal. But who really was about was the cure Aguirre, who was not a cure.

They met in the home of Marbella of the dukes of Ario and the rest is flesh of satire. The motto of Cayetana was “live and let live”, that’s why he liked Ibiza, bathing in Cala Bassa, drinking a cold beer and listen to the Beatles on a small piece where I read the poet Isidor Macabich, from one of whose poems came forth in the name of S Aufabaguera (The Basil in hound), the house that would build among the pine trees of Cala Salada. The ibicencos said that aristocrat that amounted to more than 40 titles was not very demanding because he was satisfied with the simple deliciousness of the ‘bullit de peix’ in a restaurant near the port, which is called Celler.

It was fashionable to be a hippy and the duchess pasota liked the aesthetic desgalichadas. He approached the shop of the designer Luis Ferrer in the Navy and wore a skirt, ankle brace lace and transparent medium. It was the fashion to Ad-Lib, from the Latin “ad libitum”, that is, at the discretion: dress as you like, but stylish. It was decreed the color white, and the petticoat which used formerly the payesas is pulled out to the outside as a symbol of liberation; the transparency of the cotton, the crochet and the lace up is completed with straw hats, espadrilles or sandals straps and lots of beading. The main ‘influencer’ of that ‘revival’ was Smilja Mihailovitch, a French source Serbian that called princess and had the character of a concrete mixer. His biography was embossed in the same mystery-the murder to shots of a typewriter Ingeborg Schaefer, widow of Frank ‘The Point’, a nazi who settled in Ibiza for painting canvas expressionist.

Cayetana coincided on the island with a divorced Raquel Welch, who was called ‘The body’ from that in ‘million years Ago’, came with a bikini paleolithic of heart attack that highlighted his body of multinational despite measuring 1,65. Just roll ‘The animal’ with Jean Paul Belmondo and his 37 years as it was not exactly the ‘pin-up girl’ that a decade had embodied the lust in a comedy of Dudley Moore. Although I was so taking bread and wet as when he had left stunned to Dalí, who became her curves in abstraction on canvas with oil and charcoal, and Elvis, when he worked with him in a role of a schoolgirl in the movie musical ‘The wanderer’. The Welch’s lived its status of a sex symbol as the sentence of a convicted felon and was relaxing on the beach letting the sand caracoleara between his fingers, while the shadow of his chest, inviting the lust. Tits of Rachel were fantasy universal with much more rigor that the imagination of Walt Disney.

Life -the life of truth – we had a prosperous day in the early ‘beach clubs’ and night in the nightclubs petadas of chicks and bad guys. Dance was always danced and in all parts, but when that summer John Badham premiered in the cinemas ‘Saturday Night Fever’, John Travolta immortalized in the cool of disco, Tony Manero with pant, hood, shirt large collar, and starched and passion for the disco music, a style emerged from the rhythms of black that gave it all and eventually trigger a social reaction against it. The ‘rock’ had its own slogan: “disco sucks.”

Was it that suggested Sid Vicious and his Sex Pistols, the group’s london punk that, as they said themselves, was “the only band honest to set foot on this planet in about 2,000 million years ago”. That summer Johnny Rotten howling: “I Am an antichrist” or “it destroys!” and proposed a ‘rock’ dirty and furious as a weapon of mass destruction. So much so that an alderman of London stated: “the Sex Pistols are incredibly nauseating, the antithesis of humanity. Someone dig a hole very deep, and finish all those damn people”.

At the beginning of the summer the record company chartered a boat for the Pistols to play in front of Parliament and Westminster sailing on the Thames. It was a mockery of the procession planned by the Queen for two days after and finished as the rosary of the dawn, when boats of police forced the boat to dock and arrested the band to the perplexity of Rotten: “I don’t understand, the only thing we try to do is destroy everything”. Those thugs were of a nihilist that you die. Sid Vicious hung out with Nancy Spungen, a former prostitute in New York and fiend emotionally upset that introduced him to the heroin that took him to the tomb.

The death was in August Antonio Machín, Elvis Presley and Groucho Marx. The last day of the summer, while in the Père-Lachaise cemetery in Paris incineraban to Maria Callas, a terrifying storm hit Ibiza during the day and the night. Among the pines, at the edge of roads lost, wowed the windmills next to deserted beaches and few tourists were swept away in their cars into the sea. The strong flood broke the walls of the factory of Butane and the port woke up covered in bottles. On the island where no one was nothing if not smoked a shit, it is the wild state was a moral and nature gave to move out of mother.

Frame from the film ‘Makes a
a million years’ with the actress Rachel Welch.

Cayetana de Alba smoking.

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