TIME International
July 22, 1996 Volume 148, No. 4
BY NADYA LABI
Forget the 200-km/h thunderbolt aces. RICHARD KRAJICEK's secret weapon when the 24-year-old became the first Dutchman to win Wimbledon was girlfriend and faithful fan DAPHNE DECKERS, 27. A courtside regular, the model later shared a toast with the towering champion, who first picked up a tennis racquet as a toddler and trained under his Czech-born papa at the family's home in the Hague. One more thing about Deckers: she's not to be confused with the blond female streaker who scampered across center court before Krajicek played his final.
With a blare of trumpets and shouts of welcome, all London saluted NELSON MANDELA, and QUEEN ELIZABETH II shared her carriage. The South African leader's four-day state visit was an exhilarating tour de force. Crowds cheered him at every step; universities fought to honor him (he returned home eight degrees heavier). In Brixton's humbler setting, he visited with the heir to the British throne in tow. Watch closely, Charles, a man who is king.
U.S. Presidents, from Abraham Lincoln to Jimmy Carter, have expressed a softer side by writing poetry. French Presidents prefer love stories. Valery Giscard d'Estaing wrote an erotic novel. And the fevered imagination of a lonely soldier, Francois Mitterrand, created Elsa, the vibrant heroine of Premier Accord. Penned in 1940, the novella was auctioned last week for $7,600. The lusty tale details a young man's love for Elsa, who is "a Persian at the sword, her pink curves like a jar of hair cream." Pardon?
Last year, when Elton John's live-in companion David Furnish began shooting the rocker's film biography, no one expected much candor. After all, John was paying for the shoot. Last week Tantrums and Tiaras premiered in Britain and turned out to be far from a whitewash. Furnish's work documents a tantrum or two as it follows the superstar backstage and around his Windsor mansion. The movie may be good therapy. John has watched it some 20 times, roaring with laughter at each viewing.
SEIKO MATSUDA may be topping Japan's pop charts with Missing You--her 25th No. 1 single--but this girl craves a more material fame. The squeaky-clean '80s icon traded in her frilly frocks for big hair and leather togs, her upbeat tunes for sultry crooning. Now 34, Matsuda has a penchant for backup dancers--one of whom kissed and told. As she launches her new album Was It the Future in the U.S., will parallels to a certain American pop diva make it a smash?