PRESS UPDATE : DAILY MAIL .. FRIDAY AUGUST 30TH 2019 ..

How Jackie wrote raciest chapter of my life and Dynasty saved me from the dole: DAME JOAN COLLINS reveals two rollocking tales from life story that is soon to be a major TV drama.....

By DAME JOAN COLLINS FOR THE DAILY MAIL

Joan and Jackie Collins were the sisters who came from nowhere to conquer Hollywood. On Thursday Joan recalled — in her own sparkling words — their romantic entanglements with glamorous stars before they entered their 30s and marriage and children beckoned. While Jackie created a new career as a bestselling author, Joan left acting to embrace life as a wife and mother with actor Anthony Newley. Today, she reveals how, sadly, her happiness was not to last . . .

Joam with Anthony Newley at Heathrow in the 60s

After a gypsy existence that took me to England and Switzerland and back to New York, I finally put down roots (which I desperately wanted to do) in Beverly Hills.

Yet, at 32, with more than 17 years of acting experience and practically non-stop work in movies, TV and theatre, I had absolutely nothing to show for it except a load of clothes and a car.

No home of my own, no furniture, paintings or cash, and just a few pieces of jewellery, mostly bought by my husband, Anthony Newley. As I explained yesterday, I had given up my career when I had our children, first Tara, and then, 22 months later, Sacha.

But now the kids were starting nursery school and kindergarten, Tony was beavering away all day writing and getting ready to star in a movie, and I started to miss acting.

Only an actor can know how much the ‘roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the crowd’ means to them. Even though it’s the world’s most overcrowded profession, it’s in our blood.

As I always did, over the years, I decided to consult Jackie, who was, by now, happily married to her second husband, the wonderful Oscar Lerman. ‘Go for it,’ she insisted. ‘You’re still young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You must do what your heart tells you.’

‘OK for you,’ I grumbled. ‘You’re writing and getting published. I’ve no career and, it seems, a marriage that’s going nowhere.’ While I’d thought Tony would make the perfect husband and father, the truth was turning out to be rather different.

‘Then why don’t you get an agent?’ she replied.

So I did. Since my previous agent, the formidable Sue Mengers, had told me I was ‘too old to get parts’, I switched to Tom Korman, who started to find me guest starring roles in popular TV shows such as Batman, Star Trek and Police Woman.

Jackie and Oscar had been married in our house, with Tara and Tracy (mine and Jackie’s daughters) as tiny bridesmaids, and then they returned to London, where her first novel, The World Is Full Of Married Men, became an instant bestseller and her shining career took off.

Tony and I separated in 1970. I couldn’t have lived with him any more after seeing the film Can Heironymus Merkin Ever Forget Mercy Humppe And Find True Happiness? at a screening.

It bleakly told the slightly dramatised story of his life in which he had affairs with every female who crossed his path. It was terribly upsetting and I left the room in tears.

I had too much pride to swallow this. In a tiny revenge, I had a fling with a TV actor, but it was a Pyrrhic victory. I was desperately sad for Tara and Sacha, but they didn’t have much of a father figure, either, as Tony was always working.

Jackie was delighted, however, that I was now moving back to London. She spent weeks helping me find the right house and was glowing with the ongoing success she had with her novels, plus she and Oscar were expecting their first baby together.

Back in the UK, my career suddenly had a renaissance. ‘I’m not forgotten after all,’ I said to Jackie as we sat on the spacious terrace of her flat, watching our four children play games together. ‘You never were,’ she smiled.

Oscar owned Tramp, the trendy disco nightclub in Jermyn Street. Every night, it was packed with the movers and shakers of the early Seventies. Michael Caine, Rod Stewart, Mick Jagger, gorgeous models and all the Beatles were regulars, and so were we: Oscar, Jackie, our brother Bill and me.

We hit the floor every night. Jackie was brilliant at staying up every night until 1am or 2am, getting the kids up for breakfast and school, then writing all day.

At teatime, she would often pick up my kids, too, as I was now the sole breadwinner and working hard on TV sets and movies, which kept me away from home 12 to 16 hours a day. Suddenly, I became known as ‘Queen of the horror flicks’, as I starred in several in a row with the likes of Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing and Ralph Bates.

During this time, I also met the new man in my life, American producer Ron Kass, who was president of the Beatles’ company Apple Records. I remember going up to the roof at Abbey Road for their last concert, when they played Hey Jude, but leaving before I succumbed to a high from all the marijuana being smoked.

Joan with Ron Kass at 1975 Academy Awards

When The Beatles broke up, Ron went on to head Warner Brothers Records UK. My career seemed to be following an upwards swing, with several more TV and movie roles.

My beautiful daughter, Katyana Kass, known to us as Katy, was born in London shortly after. With three boys from Ron’s previous marriage, we now had six under the age of 12 between us, and we bought a lovely summer house in Marbella.

We would often spend Easter and summer holidays together with Jackie’s tribe in Marbella and France, and it was a happy time in my life, career and marriage.

Then Ron insisted we all move back to the United States, where he had signed on as president of Sagittarius, a movie company established by businessman and philanthropist Edgar Bronfman.

The two men were very close. Ron had been Edgar’s rock through the incredible ordeal of having his eldest son kidnapped. Edgar was Katy’s godfather and, when he asked us to throw his second son Edgar Jr’s 21st birthday at our house in LA, we said yes. I organised it, inviting all the high and mighty of showbusiness and even advancing the money for the party from my personal account.

It was an immense success, with the likes of Dionne Warwick, Kirk Douglas, director Dick Donner, Rod and Alana Stewart and many others all at the height of their power and fame.

But, on the day after the party, as congratulations and flowers arrived, Ron announced: ‘Edgar’s fired me.’ I couldn’t believe it. After years of friendship and business partnership, after schlepping our family across the Atlantic, his boss had fired him.

I don’t think Ron ever fully recovered from the trauma Edgar caused him. Certainly, this became a turning point in our up-to-now happy marriage. We started by selling the house and downsizing to live off the proceeds, but that wasn’t going to last indefinitely. Now, I had to take on the mantle of being the sole breadwinner again. I decided to take any and all offers.

But, despite my TV appearances, I had lost all my profile after years away from the Hollywood showbiz circuit. ‘Joan who?’ was the phrase I heard most during my rounds of casting directors’ and producers’ offices. When the parts dried up, I even ended up at the unemployment office to collect benefits.

As I handed in my application to the assistant, she exclaimed: ‘Joan Collins??? Didn’t you used to be her?’

‘I still am,’ I replied, coolly. Well, at least she recognised me.

In the Seventies, life became one long plane ride between California and London, wherever my floundering career took me. But it was great to be in California because, by now, Jackie had also moved there with Oscar and her three children and she was churning out bestselling novels.

Feeling massively anxious about our finances, I suggested to Jackie that her 1969 novel The Stud, about the socialite wife of a wealthy businessman who owns a nightclub and likes men rather a lot, would make a wonderful screenplay and I’d be perfect to play the heroine, Fontaine. ‘I’ll write you up a script,’ she said, airily.

Years of rejection followed, because nobody could see the appeal of the subject matter, until I finally met George Walker, a distributor of B-flicks in England.

I gave him my pitch and he fell in love with Jackie’s script. Within four months, we were shooting.

Joan & Jackie at press launch for film version of The Stud..

He insisted I do a scene where I swing, topless, over a swimming pool. I definitely did not want to do that scene unless I wore a bathing suit, or some sort of covering, but he was horribly insistent. ‘It’s in the book,’ he said.

‘I’ve got three children — it’s too embarrassing,’ I retorted, helplessly, looking to my husband for support. It was not forthcoming. ‘My children will hate me,’ I protested.

After several days of fierce arguments, I reluctantly agreed, although I had to get extremely drunk to shoot it.

The film was a huge success and I garnered a great deal of attention, not least because a woman in her 40s was not supposed to look that good or have sex appeal.

However, despite the apparent box office success, receipts into our account were not forthcoming and, to this day, I have never really understood why.

But then the greatest tragedy of my life occurred. I had been asked to do a play, The Last Of Mrs Cheyney, in the West End. I could hardly afford to turn it down, despite the success of the movies.

I was in Paris having a costume fitting with the fabled couturier Érte when I was told that my beloved eight-year-old Katy had been hit by a car and was not expected to live. The horror of the nightmare trip back to London in our friend Roger Whittaker’s little plane will never leave me.

When I saw my darling girl in hospital, unconscious, with shaven head and tubes attached to her tiny body, I became hysterical. ‘Keep it inside you,’ advised my wise brother Bill, putting his arms around me. ‘Don’t let Katy feel that you’re upset — I’m sure she’ll recover.’

I spent six weeks living in a caravan in the hospital car park, staying with Katy every day and night when the hospital allowed, reading and talking to her, despite the specialists’ advice that my actions were futile. And, thank God, my strong little girl did eventually come out of her coma.

However, Katy had a long way to go to recover and so began a long period of therapy while I performed first in Cheyney and then another play, Murder In Mind.

Finally, we could take her on a holiday to Spain. While there, I received a phone call from Tom Korman, my LA agent. ‘Do you know what “Dynasty” is?’ he asked.

‘A Chinese restaurant?’ I replied.

He sighed. ‘It’s Aaron Spelling’s new TV show. His answer to “Dallas”. It’s been on air for a season, but the ratings keep dropping and they’ve written this mysterious new character called Alexis, hoping to pep it up.’

‘Love the name,’ I said. ‘Can I think about it?’ I was only thinking about Katy at this time.

‘I’ll fax you a couple of scenes,’ he said. ‘It’s a great role, but Elizabeth Taylor and Sophia Loren have already turned it down.’

‘How long is the gig?’

‘Maybe another season,’ he replied. ‘Call me tomorrow. ABC has got to know fast.’

Joan with Jobn Forsytbe on Dynasty

Ron and I discussed how moving back to California would be great for Katy’s recovery, between the LA sunshine and the amazing strides medical research had taken in the U.S., not to mention a steady paycheck.

I read the scenes and loved them and, within two weeks, our family was in LA. I started shooting the second season of Dynasty at my old stomping ground, 20th Century Fox Studios.

It was unbelievable how quickly Alexis Carrington Colby took America by storm. Within two weeks of airings, ratings zoomed, and, by January 1982, it was one of the top ten most popular shows.

I took control of my own outfits on Dynasty, eschewing the tweed suits and pussycat bows I was offered. Paris couture was now rich with huge sleeves, massive shoulder pads and nipped-in waists, and this is what Alexis’s main ‘look’ was based on. I became the world’s favourite ‘bitch’.

Katy was blooming and my sister and I were closer than ever.

In 1983, I won a Golden Globe for Best Actress in a TV show and Jackie’s latest novel was No 1 on the NY Times bestseller list.

We sat eating popcorn surrounded by our children and watched a tape of a French And Saunders sketch a friend had sent us from England.

Jennifer played me, with massive hair and gargantuan shoulder pads. Dawn played Jackie, in animal prints and cateye sunglasses. We watched transfixed as the two comediennes ruthlessly satirised our perceived public personas and laughed out loud when both looked at the camera sultrily and announced: ‘For we are those lucky bitches.’

‘I guess we made it, Sis,’ said Jackie.

‘I guess we did,’ I laughed. ‘And against all odds!’

Joan's new autobiography 'Third Act' will be out next year!

PRESS UPDATE : DAILY MAIL .. THURSDAY AUGUST 29TH 2019 ..

The HOTTEST double act in Hollywood: Racier than a Jackie Collins bonkbuster. More dramatic than Dynasty. As their life stories are turned into a TV drama, Dame JOAN COLLINS reveals all about her and her sister's rise to fame.....

By JOAN COLLINS FOR THE DAILY MAIL

When my sister Jackie died, I was bereft. As was our brother Bill, Jackie's three daughters, six grandchildren, three sons-in-law and countless friends and family.

Jackie was so loved and admired that her death was news across the world. It even made the cover of People Magazine.

Behind the celebrity headlines, though, was a family in grief. We tried hard to comfort each other, but Jackie's death left a void in all our lives that was impossible to fill. 

So I was delighted when the prestigious producers of The Crown announced they wanted to dramatise our lives for a multi-part, high-end TV biopic. But I was also slightly concerned about how Jackie's daughters — Tracy, Rory and Tiffany — would react.

I needn't have worried. The girls were thrilled and all of us immediately co-operated with the producers to give them the most honest and interesting input on the scripts. 'It should be a great tribute to our mother,' said Tiffany.                                                                                   

And I, for one, feel deeply that she would have been honoured and thrilled to be part of this collaboration, which will tell the tale of how two young English girls, by dint of hard work, ambition, discipline and, yes, luck, would become internationally renowned. And, this is how it all began...

We didn't have twitter trolls, or smartphones. We didn't have social media, so we didn't worry about anything. We just had the war.

Joan & Jackie with mum Elsa

We left it to our parents to worry about that. My sister Jackie and I threw ourselves into entertaining and amusing ourselves all through our childhood. Our parents were of the 'children should be seen and not heard' generation, so they let us get on with it.

We could walk to school through the London streets without being knocked over by somebody with their nose in a smartphone — all we had to worry about was the Blitz, and we were too young to understand the true extent of that danger.

Besides, picking up and collecting different pieces of shrapnel was far more exciting.

Ignorance was bliss for little Jackie and Joan during World War II.

We were on holiday in Bognor Regis, staying with our maternal grandmother Ada, when war broke out. I remember that we had the most glorious weather on that day in September. I was terribly excited to see that headline in the paper that war had been declared.

In my childish innocence, it seemed like some sort of game was afoot and I thought I was the first in my family to know as I ran across a field to impart the news. 

Two-year-old Jackie gazed impassively from her crib as Mummie and her sisters pretended to be very busy setting out tea things and tossing off remarks like, 'Oh, it's nothing to worry about' and 'It'll all be over soon, you'll see.'

Our innocence of the danger remained intact through the next six years, even while we were repeatedly evacuated then returned to London when it was apparently safe.

When the bombs came back, off we trundled again in Daddy's Rover, Jackie sitting next to me in the back, sucking her thumb and reading a book, while Mummie, Daddy and I sang inspiring songs like We'll Meet Again and The White Cliffs of Dover.

Bognor, Brighton, Chichester, Norfolk, Ilfracombe; back and forth we went. Each time, Jackie and I would be enrolled in a new school and, from being outgoing children, we became shy as the 'old girls' never took kindly to the 'new girls', especially being from London — we were bullied mercilessly.

Nevertheless, the war was quite an adventure and we were never scared.

One morning, we came out of Edgware Road Tube station, where we had spent the night safe from the bombs, only to find our flat in Maida Vale completely destroyed. Jackie started crying inconsolably about her lost toys and I, the heroic older sister, did my best to comfort her while feeling the great loss myself.

As I entered puberty, I became upset that I was expected to wear things like the tight girdles, itchy stockings and suspender belts that my mother wore. I preferred the corduroy trousers and loose shirts of Daddy's wardrobe. So, for a while I wished I'd been a boy and dressed like a tomboy.

However, by the time I was 15, I reverted to embracing my female side.

Even as teenagers, Jackie and I had definite ambitions. She wanted to be a writer and I, after dithering about a bit, wanted to become an actress — but an actress in the theatre, and not films, heaven forfend!

Joan & Jackie with parents Joe & Elsa

However, we both adored films, and film stars, and spent endless hours cutting pictures of our favourites from movie magazines and pasting them into giant scrapbooks, as well as sending to Hollywood for autographed pictures from the likes of Gene Kelly, Danny Kaye and Tony Curtis, most of whom obliged.

Jackie even stuck her picture of Tony Curtis behind her bed, while I had my picture of Irish film star Maxwell Reed under my desk... but more about that later.

Jackie started writing amazing stories when she was only ten — sophisticated plots about teenagers in America and France with exotic names — under the umbrella title These Things Called Teenagers.

The concept of a teenager had just been invented in the late 1940s. Prior to that, people were only known as children or adults.

Jackie was in vogue, even then. I was called upon to illustrate these gems which, thanks to a school course in art, I was quite good at. Her handwriting was beautiful and structured, as were her stories and I cherish the copies I now have that her daughters found after she died.

Jackie was tall and had a fantastic figure by the time she was 12. When we holidayed in France, boys would whistle and try to chat us up, even following us around Cannes (sorry folks, this was the Fifties after all, when PC meant Police Constable).But neither of us allowed the boys to get too close — it was a much more innocent time.

We were on the beach at Cannes when I received the telegram telling me I had passed my audition for RADA while Jackie was happily splashing in the water with three French boys as I whooped with joy and ran down the beach to tell her.

My rise to fame was meteoric. Within a year, I'd been signed to the British film studio Rank and during my early years as a starlet, Jackie followed my career closely, pasting and writing captions of every single press mention of me in many scrapbooks.

At Rank I learned my craft, and made 12 films in three years; working with brilliant actors but also earning the moniker of 'Britain's bad girl' due to my penchant for playing juvenile delinquents, naughty heiresses or baby jailbirds.

At 20, I was literally sold to Twentieth Century Fox and went to Hollywood.

Joan in Hollywood with Tony Curtis

I stayed for seven years, scoring above-the-title credits and working with such luminaries as Bette Davis, Richard Burton, Gregory Peck and Paul Newman. These were heady days for a girl from Blighty and I learned a lot from these amazing stars.

Jackie came to stay for a couple of years. Almost as soon as she touched down, however, I had to leave for Jamaica to shoot Sea Wife with Burton, so I gave her the keys to my apartment and to my car! She had a marvellous time, driving my pink Thunderbird round Beverly Hills and hanging out with other teenagers.

She adored the American way of life — hamburgers, drive-ins, chocolate malts. When I returned, she hung out with me and my more sophisticated friends like Gene Kelly, Paul Newman, Sydney Chaplin and Marlon Brando, whom Jackie worshipped.

Hollywood was unbelievably glamorous then. Most women were always made-up and coiffed even for tennis or shopping, and the parties were packed with the most famous and gorgeous stars and powerful studio heads.

I was invited to many of these, and I gazed in awe at Lana Turner, Susan Hayward and Elizabeth Taylor in their prime and primped to perfection.

I hit Saks and I. Magnin regularly, and soon attained my black belt in shopping. I also started designing many of my cocktail and evening dresses and had them made by a tailor to my specifications — something I still do today.

But most evenings we spent at friends' homes where we played charades and word games and Jackie and I could be casual in jeans. In fact, I was so casual that sometimes I didn't even wear make-up, which the powers-that-be at Fox considered a heinous crime.

I was reprimanded by studio executive Darryl Zanuck's second-in-command, Lew Schreiber, and by gossip columnist Hedda Hopper, when she wrote that I 'looked like [I] combed my hair with an egg-beater'.

It was at my then boyfriend Arthur's house that one night, Jackie met Brando. Marlon had become a great friend and whenever he came over to my little apartment, he would raid the fridge and eat all my ice cream.

Jackie and Marlon huddled in a corner chatting for hours then, to my dismay, sailed upstairs hand in hand. No one still knows exactly what happened, and now no one ever will. 

Joan with David Niven at a 50's Oscar Party

The equally talented James Dean was another regular at Arthur's house. One night, a group of us were dining on Hollywood Boulevard and Jimmy offered to drive me home. 'I've got a new car,' he said proudly showing me a fierce-looking red Porsche. 'It goes really fast.'

My boyfriend tried to stop me. 'He drives too fast,' he warned. 'He'll kill himself one day.'

Never one to heed advice, I jumped in and Jimmy went from zero to 80 in about four seconds. By the time we arrived, I had been frightened senseless as he zoomed in and out of the traffic. 'Never again,' I said to Arthur.

In September 1955, I was in New York on a publicity tour when Arthur tapped on my door. 'Jimmy's dead, killed in his Porsche,' he said, ashen-faced. I have never liked going in fast cars since then.

Jackie was summoned back to London by our father. Our mother was gravely ill, and Daddy was at his wits' end, finding it hard to cope with her illness and our younger brother Bill, despite the fact that he was no trouble at all.

I stayed in Hollywood completing my contract and Jackie put aside her writing ambitions to look after Mummie. During this time, she also started acting.

She featured in several British films and TV shows and toured the UK as MC of talent competition, The Carroll Levis Discovery Show, an early version of The X Factor on the variety stage.

I went to Barbados to film a movie about inter-racial tensions called Island In The Sun. The stunningly handsome Harry Belafonte immediately showed an interest, but though I was attracted to him, I was cautious about men who oozed sexual power.

He had been idolised for years for his fabulous singing and was also a terrific actor and an activist. The English crew took bets on whether I would surrender to his cool sophisticated charms, but they were sorely disappointed when I didn't. Then . . .

Joan with Harry Belafonte

An inter-racial relationship in the Fifties would have caused a massive scandal and probably hurt my career. Producer Harry Cohn had threatened to remove Sammy Davis Jr's other eye — he'd lost his left one in a car accident — for dating Kim Novak.

But three months later, after one of Harry's shows in Los Angeles, I changed my mind!

It was 1960 and a wedding was planned — Jackie was marrying Wallace Austin, a clothes manufacturer who had won her in spite of the many swains who clustered around her. I, too, was planning marriage, to up-and-coming actor Warren Beatty (my first, to actor Maxwell Reed, had been a disaster and only lasted a year).

Warren and I attended Jackie's lavish celebration at the Grosvenor Hotel in London with my parents and a host of friends and celebrities such as Joyce and Lionel Blair, Roger Whittaker, Frankie Howerd and Roger Moore. Mummie looked radiant and I hoped she was getting better. Sadly, that was not the case.

After my Fox contract ended, I moved back to England, to Harley House and to my childhood bedroom. Jackie was married and I was starring opposite Bob Hope and Bing Crosby in The Road To Hong Kong, filming at Shepperton.

My engagement to Warren Beatty had bitten the dust for many reasons, and I was now dating the supremely talented Anthony Newley, West End star of Stop The World, I Want To Get Off.

It was during this time that Mummie died. Daddy, Bill, Jackie and I were shattered. She was the sweetest, kindest, nicest person — a true lady, a loving, caring mother and everyone who met her adored her. She had such beautiful legs that she was nicknamed 'Marlene' after Marlene Dietrich.

Such was his grief that Daddy refused to speak of her again, flying into a rage if anyone mentioned her name.

Jackie threw herself into married life with zeal, even though Wallace was less than perfect. I thought he was a bit of a psychopath — during a visit to his showroom he knocked eight months' pregnant Jackie to the ground. I lashed out at Wallace, screaming: 'How dare you hit my sister, you bully.'

This was the first (and last) time I ever slapped anyone. Well, of course except for Linda Evans and Diahann Carroll in Dynasty!

Not surprisingly, that marriage didn't last. He was not a good person and I suspected very dependent on substances. I begged Jackie to end it, but she felt she had to stay with him for the sake of their baby daughter.

Eventually, she did kick him out, but he continued to torment her until one day he drove into the Black Forest and took an overdose and his life.

Jackie had been writing for years, but now she needed to make it work financially. She had several letters of rejection, but kept on.

'Never give up' was our motto, I guess unconsciously formed during the war. We had become even closer after Mummie died and while I lived at my father's flat. Bill, now 15, had moved in with Jackie and she became like a second mother to him.

BY NOW I had fallen, hard, for Anthony Newley and seeing Jackie with her daughter Tracy made me really pine for children of my own.

I decided Tony would make a great father, and Jackie agreed. Tony loved Jackie and lent her some much-needed cash when Wallace left her practically bankrupt.

Estranged from his wife for many years, Tony was still married but that didn't stop our plans to marry and have children. He finally got divorced and we wed in 1963 in New York, with my best friend Cappy Badrutt as maid of honour and actor Michael Lipton, Tony's best friend, as his best man.

We had a quickie ceremony followed by a quickie champagne breakfast, then Tony rushed back onto the Broadway stage to make his evening performance.

In October, my adorable Tara Cynara Newley was born and I gave up all thoughts of acting and a film career. Besides, at 29, I was considered too old!

A month later, when the beloved President of the U.S. John F. Kennedy was assassinated, Tony decided he didn't want to live in America any more. However, we didn't move back to London for another two years. Jackie came to stay with us in our palatial New York apartment and we had glorious times with our two little girls, Tracy and Tara.

Twenty-two months after Tara, my second child Alexander Newley was born, and I thought my family was perfect and complete.

How wrong can a girl be?

Joan Collins' new autobiography, Third Act, will be published next year.

PROMO UPDATE : CHARLOTTE TILBURY AIRBRUSH FLAWLESS FOUNDATION CAMPAIGN .. AUGUST 2019 ..

There’s nothing Charlotte Tilbury likes more than a flawless complexion. From the Magic Cream to the Wonderglow primer to the Beauty Light Wands, her brand is always pushing its glowy agenda and signature “lit from within” radiance. And now, achieving that flawless face just got easier. 

Today, Charlotte Tilbury launched its third foundation: the Airbrush Flawless foundation. A full-coverage, matte foundation, Airbrush Flawless comes in 44 shades and contains a number of active skincare ingredients to reduce the appearance of wrinkles and keep skin hydrated. The shades are grouped by overtones (fair, medium, tan, deep) and undertones (cool, warm, neutral) to help you find your exact match, and housed in a bottle that is, of course, as glamorous as Tilbury herself. 

“I have worked with the best laboratories in the world to create my most miraculous skin-creation yet,” says Tilbury. “When I wear this foundation, people ask me if I have had work done! Have I been on holiday? No, no, no! It’s Airbrush Flawless Foundation.”

Accompanying the launch of the foundation is a campaign featuring a cast that includes RuPaul’s Drag Race’s Miss Fame, Cheyenne Maya Charty, and the forever fabulous Dame Joan Collins.

Airbrush Flawless foundation is available from today online at charlottetilbury.com and in stores from August 29. Be fast, though, with 17,000 people signed up to the waitlist it’s sure to go quickly!

EVENT UPDATE : MASSIMO GARGIA BIRTHDAY PARTY .. HOTEL DE PARIS .. ST TROPEZ .. AUGUST 19TH 2019

Joan enjoyed a glamorous night at The Hotel De Paris in St Tropez to help her good friend Massimo Gargia celebrate his 78th birthday...