Marci Rich: Of Robert Redford, London, and the Power of Travel
Huffington Post - over 4 years
I could have sworn that the blond man sitting near the front of the Gloucester Pub in London's Knightsbridge district was Robert Redford. You don't forget a chiseled face like his, nor do you forget that trademark orb of yellow hair. I'd been half in love with Redford since seeing the film that inspired me to major in journalism: All the President's Men. (For most women it's The Way We Were. Go figure.) If I hadn't been with two friends, or so utterly gobsmacked by my first (and only) trip across the pond, I might have lingered to make sure that the flesh-and-blood visage sitting several tables away matched up with the celluloid version. But my friends and I, famished and travel-weary after our trans-Atlantic flight, were eager for nourishment before checking into the Chelsea Hotel* on the other side of Sloane Street.
And, truth be told, shyness and a sense of decorum prevented me from intruding on a celebrity's luncheon.
I ordered the Cottage Pie because, you know, ...
Article Link: Huffington Post article