Lauren Grandcolas’ Last Call: A Message of Love Amidst Tragedy.2791
Today, as we reflect on the tragic events of September 11, one name stands out—Lauren Grandcolas. On what was supposed to be a routine flight, Lauren's life was tragically cut short, but her final words have left an indelible mark on our hearts. Today would have been her 62nd birthday.
Lauren, 38 years old at the time, was three months pregnant and traveling aboard United Airlines Flight 93. She was returning home to San Rafael, California, after attending her grandmother’s funeral in New Jersey. Originally scheduled to fly later in the day, she opted for an earlier flight after arriving at Newark Liberty International Airport ahead of schedule. The 8 a.m. flight was set to bring her back to San Francisco, and though her husband, Jack, was still asleep when she called to let him know of her change in plans, she left him a message, perhaps unknowingly foreshadowing what was to come: "I love you more than anything; just know that."
Little did she know, this would be one of the final moments of peace before the unimaginable unfolded. United Flight 93 was hijacked at 9:28 a.m. by terrorists, and as the chaos began to unfold, Lauren, with remarkable composure, found a way to reach out to her loved ones. Using an Airfone, she called her husband again, her voice calm yet tinged with urgency. "We're having a little problem on the plane; I'm totally fine," she told him, a moment of serenity amidst the terror. “I love you more than anything; just know that.” In those few words, Lauren encapsulated not only the unshakeable love she had for her family but also a resilience in the face of unspeakable horror.
In total, 37 phone calls were made from Flight 93 during its hijacking. Of these, 35 were placed using the Airfones located on the seatbacks, and two were made from personal cell phones. These calls were a lifeline, a momentary connection to the outside world during the darkest of hours. But it was Lauren's final call—her voice, steady and loving—that has resonated with so many.
We remember Lauren not only for her incredible composure but for the love and strength she conveyed in those moments. In her last message, she offered a calm reassurance, trying to comfort her husband as the world around her fell into chaos. It is that love, that grace under pressure, which makes her story so poignant. She was more than a passenger aboard Flight 93; she was a symbol of the human spirit's ability to stand strong, even in the face of the unimaginable.
Lauren's life may have been cut short, but her legacy lives on in the hearts of those who loved her and in the memories of the courage she displayed on that fateful day. Today, we remember her not just as a victim of a tragic event but as a beacon of love, strength, and resilience.
We hold Lauren Grandcolas in our hearts, and on this day, we honor her life and the powerful message of love she left behind. 💔🙏
Wrapped in Love: The Coat That Carried Audrey’s Eternal Hug.701
On the day she knew her life was nearing its end, Audrey Hepburn called him to her residence in Switzerland. Hubert de Givenchy had been her confidant, her friend, her chosen brother of the soul for over four decades. When he arrived, she welcomed him into the quiet bedroom where she had been confined for months, her once luminous frame now fragile but her spirit still radiant.
“I have a gift for you,” she whispered, motioning to a small box on the nightstand. He opened it carefully, unwrapping the tissue paper to reveal a coat.
“If you ever feel sad, my dear Hubert,” she said, her voice steady but tender, “put it on your shoulders and tell yourself that I, Audrey, am hugging you to bring you comfort.”
It was her last embrace woven into fabric.
Their story had begun forty years earlier, on a hot Parisian afternoon in 1953. Hubert, then only twenty-six, had just founded his fashion house on Avenue Alfred de Vigny. His secretary had announced that “Miss Hepburn” would be visiting. Hubert had been thrilled—he thought Katherine Hepburn, already a Hollywood legend, was coming to his studio. But when the door opened, in walked a delicate young woman, shy but poised, her voice soft yet confident.
“My name is Audrey,” she said with a smile. “Audrey Hepburn.”
She was dressed modestly: a white T-shirt, slim checkered trousers, simple sandals, and a broad-brimmed gondolier’s hat that looked almost comical. She was not the glamorous star Hubert had expected, but she carried with her a kind of natural elegance he had never seen before.
Audrey explained that she was preparing for a new film, Sabrina, and was searching for a designer who could give her character a wardrobe of French refinement. Hubert had little time for an unknown actress, but he allowed her to choose from his latest collection. She did—and with that, both of their destinies quietly shifted.
Sabrina went on to win an Academy Award for its costumes, but the credit went to Edith Head. Givenchy’s name did not even appear in the credits. Hurt, Audrey traveled back to Paris to apologize in person. Hubert, ever gracious, reassured her:
“Thanks to Sabrina, I now have more clients than I can handle. Audrey, I became famous, and it was not without your help.”
It was the beginning of a friendship that would become one of the most enduring alliances in the history of fashion and cinema.
From that moment forward, Audrey was his muse. For “little Audrey,” as he called her, he would have done anything. Together they created some of the most iconic images of the twentieth century. When
But theirs was more than a professional collaboration. Givenchy was there for her in moments of triumph and in times of heartbreak. He held her hand through her failed romance with William Holden. He stood by her side when she married actor Mel Ferrer, when she wept over the stillbirth of her first child, and when she celebrated the birth of her beloved son, Sean, in 1960. He even designed the pale pink suit she wore when she married Andrea Dotti years later.
Through four decades, through marriages, heartbreaks, and joys, they remained bound by something purer than fame or fashion—a profound devotion built on trust, respect, and quiet love.
When cancer claimed her in January 1993, Hubert could no longer cry. He had already shed every tear during her illness, watching helplessly as she fought with grace until the very end. At her funeral, his grief was silent but absolute. Months later, he planted lilies of the valley—her favorite—on her grave, a gesture of love that words could never capture.
Without Audrey, the world of fashion lost its magic for him. In 1995, he retired, entrusting his house to John Galliano, and withdrew into a quieter life near Paris. He dedicated his days to gardens instead of gowns, appearing rarely in public. Whenever asked about Audrey, his eyes would soften, and he would offer only a quiet smile.
“She was an extraordinary woman,” he would say. “And I miss her terribly.”
In that coat she gave him, Hubert carried not only her embrace but the memory of a friendship that had transcended art, time, and even death.
