Dame Helen Mirren, 78, has been an emblem of grace and style on the red carpet since the late 1970s. She’s amazed the audience many times with her daring outfits and looks, but this time, she’s caught everyone’s attention in a whole new way. Many people were stunned when they saw a photo of the actress in her bikini on vacation in Italy.
She admits that this photo will ’haunt’ her for the rest of her life.
In 2008, Helen Mirren, at that time 63 years old, stunned the public with her bikini photoshoot. The photo quickly went viral. The Oscar-winning actress became something of a post-mid-life beauty symbol. Reflecting on the photo, Mirren expressed, “I think this thing will haunt me for the rest of my life,” as she was surprised to see this photo in all the major tabloids.
The actress also revealed she was just trying to look good for her husband, Taylor Hackford, “So we were there, swimming a little bit, lying in the sun, and Taylor said, ’Stand up, I want to take a picture of you.’ So I stood up and sucked my tummy in because my husband was taking my photo. I tried to suck my cheeks in. I tried to look good.”
This unexpected fame opened up some business opportunities for her.
Simon Mirren, Helen’s nephew, said that his aunt received a lot of business prospects but showed no interest in capitalizing on this photo. Simon recalled, “I begged her to turn us all into millionaires by marketing bikinis after everyone went wild over her fit bikini body but she said absolutely no. She won’t brand herself like that.”
It’s not the first time an actress has challenged age stereotypes.
The actress unveiled her “radical” hairstyle while promoting her role as Hespera, the villain in Shazam! Fury of the Gods. The actress acknowledged that after growing her hair, she kind of liked it and didn’t feel like cutting it.
During a recent TV appearance, Mirren challenged the fact that older women are discouraged from having long hair because it tends to thin with age. The actress refuted this notion, stating that there is a general belief that one should not have long hair after a certain age.
The Oscar-winning actress hasn’t had long hair since her twenties. She liked the way it looked and decided to keep it. “I thought, do you know what, it’s pretty cool, I think I’ll stick with it for a little while. It will come off eventually…but I’m kind of enjoying it, it’s quite radical,” the actress said.
Mirren also expressed her pride in representing women over 60, stating that creativity, passion, and energy do not stop unless one decides to stop them. “So it’s just self-motivated, really, and never give up. And find enjoyment, if it’s possible in your life,” she shared.
Dame Helen Mirren has also been vocal about defying beauty standards for older women, citing that her generation has been subject to ageism for too long. She also voiced her frustration with beauty products being marketed with 15-year-old models in a 2019 interview.
The actress has her own views on beauty too, and it’s refreshing to hear someone in the public eye acknowledge that the idea can be exclusionary and make people feel insecure about themselves. “They’ll think, ’Well, I’m not very beautiful. It’s all very well for all these beautiful women, but I don’t feel beautiful,’” she explained.
For Mirren, it’s important for everyone to feel confident and fabulous, regardless of their looks. “Being powerful is so much more interesting than being beautiful,” the actress has always thought.
On a different note, Mirren revealed that she performed her own stunts on the set of Shazam! Fury of the Gods. “I was incredibly brave and didn’t say anything or complain because I wanted to be a real ’stunty’ person,” the actress proudly shared.
It’s great to see actors who are dedicated to their craft and willing to take risks for their performances.
Demi Moore, 61, also fights stereotypes that older women shouldn’t wear bikinis in her latest video, but the public is divided.
Entitled Customer Threw Fresh Juice at Me – I’m Not a Doormat, So I Taught Her a Lesson She Won’t Forget…
When an entitled customer threw her drink in my face, humiliating me in front of everyone, she assumed I’d just take it quietly. Little did she know, she was in for a surprise—and a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
That morning, I stepped into the health food store, the familiar scent of fresh produce and herbal teas greeting me. It was the start of another day at work, where I’d been earning a living for the past year. As I tied my apron, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different today.
“Hey, Grace! Ready for another thrilling day of juice-making?” my coworker Ally joked from behind the counter.
I laughed, shaking my head. “Yep, gotta keep those entitled customers happy, right?”
But the knot in my stomach told me otherwise. There was one customer who made our jobs miserable every time she came in.
We had dubbed her “Miss Pompous,” and it was a fitting name. She walked in like she owned the place, treating us like we were beneath her.
As I began my shift, I tried to put her out of my mind. I needed this job. It wasn’t just about me—it was about my family. My mom’s medical bills were piling up, and my younger sister was counting on me to help with college expenses. Quitting wasn’t an option.
A few minutes later, Ally leaned in close. “Heads up,” she whispered. “Miss Pompous just pulled into the parking lot.”
My stomach dropped. “Great,” I muttered. “Just what I needed to start my day.”
The bell above the door chimed, and in she walked, her designer heels clicking like a countdown to disaster. Without even acknowledging me, she strutted up to the counter and barked her order.
“Carrot juice. Now.”
I forced a smile. “Of course, ma’am. Coming right up.”
As I worked, I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move. My hands began to shake under the pressure. Finally, I handed her the juice.
She took one sip and her face twisted in disgust. “What is this watered-down garbage?” she screeched. Before I could react, she hurled the entire drink at my face.
The cold juice splashed across my cheeks, dripping down my chin. I stood there, stunned, as she continued to rant. “Are you trying to poison me?” she demanded.
I blinked, wiping juice from my eyes. “It’s the same recipe we always use,” I stammered.
“Make it again,” she snapped. “And this time, use your brain.”
My face burned with humiliation as everyone in the store turned to watch. Tears threatened to spill, but I refused to let her see me cry.
Just then, my manager, Mr. Weatherbee, appeared. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, though his concern seemed more for the loss of a customer than for me.
Miss Pompous turned on him. “Your employee can’t even make a simple juice! I demand a refund and a replacement.”
To my disbelief, Mr. Weatherbee began apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We’ll remake your juice immediately, free of charge.” Then he turned to me. “Grace, be more careful next time.”
I stood there, dumbfounded. My jaw dropped. “But sir, I—”
“Just get the carrots, Grace,” he interrupted, “and remake the juice.”
Miss Pompous smirked at me, clearly enjoying my humiliation. I felt a surge of anger. For a split second, I wanted to throw my apron down and walk out. But then I thought of my mom and sister—I couldn’t afford to lose this job.
So, I took a deep breath and made a decision. I wasn’t going to let her win.
I met Miss Pompous’s gaze, refusing to be intimidated. She thought she could buy respect with her money, that she could trample over people without consequences. Well, not this time.
As Mr. Weatherbee walked away, I reached into the fridge, bypassing the usual carrots. Instead, I grabbed the biggest, gnarliest one I could find. It was tough and unwieldy, perfect for what I had in mind.
“Just a moment,” I said, sweetly, as I fed the oversized carrot into the juicer. The machine groaned in protest before spraying juice everywhere—across the counter, the floor, and best of all, onto Miss Pompous’s designer handbag.
She shrieked, snatching her bag and frantically trying to wipe off the bright orange juice. “My bag!” she cried. “You stupid girl! Look what you’ve done!”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, ma’am,” I said, struggling to keep a straight face. “It was an accident, I swear.”
Her face turned beet red. “You ruined my three-thousand-dollar purse! I want your manager!”
Trying not to laugh, I gestured vaguely toward the store. “I think he’s helping a customer over there.”
As she stomped off in search of Mr. Weatherbee, I ducked into the stockroom to hide my smile. From my hiding spot, I watched as she stormed out, still clutching her dripping bag, leaving a trail of carrot juice in her wake.
I thought it was over, but I knew Miss Pompous wasn’t the type to let things go.
Sure enough, the next morning, she burst into the store, demanding to see the owner. When Mr. Larson, the kind, older man who owned the store, came out, she launched into a tirade, insisting I be fired and demanding compensation for her ruined purse.
Calmly, Mr. Larson replied, “Let’s check the security footage.”
My heart skipped a beat. I had completely forgotten about the cameras.
We gathered around the monitor as the footage played, showing Miss Pompous throwing juice in my face and the “accident” with her purse. The room fell silent.
Mr. Larson turned to her. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any compensation. What I see here is an assault on my employee. If anyone should be considering legal action, it’s us.”
Miss Pompous sputtered in disbelief. “But… my purse!”
“I suggest you leave,” Mr. Larson said firmly. “And don’t come back.”
With one final glare, Miss Pompous stormed out.
Once she was gone, Mr. Larson turned to me, his eyes twinkling. “That was just an accident, right, Grace?”
“Of course, sir,” I said with a grin. “Why would I intentionally ruin a customer’s belongings?”
He chuckled and walked away. Ally gave me a high five. “You stood up to her, Grace! You showed her who’s boss.”
That night, as I shared the story with my mom and sister, I realized something important: standing up for myself hadn’t just put Miss Pompous in her place—it reminded me of my own worth.
Have you ever had to deal with someone like Miss Pompous? Share your stories in the comments. Together, we can take on the “Karens” of the world!
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