She was the third woman after Joan of Arc and Sarah Bernhardt to be honored with a monument in Paris. When she took her own life, France declared a national day of mourning.
The Path to the Stage
Though she became a French icon, she was an Italian born in Egypt. Iolanda Cristina Gigliotti was born on January 17, 1933, in Cairo. She was raised by Italian-Calabrian parents from Catanzaro; some sources say her father worked as a violinist at the Cairo Opera and her mother worked as a seamstress and was French. After childhood eye surgeries, the cross-eyed girl developed the striking gaze that would become her signature. At 12, she lost her father and with him the carefree years of childhood. From a young age she worked as a model (a swimsuit photo in a magazine even led to the cancellation of a local engagement) and appeared in small film roles. A move to Paris offered greater artistic opportunity and a chance for her sensual chest voice to be heard on stage.
Little Iolanda Cristina Gigliotti in 1937
Vocal lessons with Roland Berjé prepared her for a singing career and introduced her to someone who would shape both her art and her life. She won a vocal competition on French radio and met Lucien Maurice, director of the Europe 1 radio station. At that time she was a voluptuous brunette—she later transformed into a slender blonde, slimming to about 112 pounds at a height of 5’6″—and first introduced herself as Dalila. She chose her stage name herself, unaware of the ominous echo of the biblical Delilah. The small change to Dalida did not lift that shadow: critics would dub her the “Black Orchid,” and the tragic stories that followed would give her a reputation closer to a “Black Widow.”
Dalida in 1961
A Journey to the Edge
She married producer Lucien Maurice in 1961 after a five-year engagement, but the couple separated just a year later. Maurice grew uneasy over Dalida’s attraction to Jean Sobieski, a Polish actor she met in Cannes. The romance with Sobieski had begun before her marriage; with the producer she felt mostly respect and gratitude. After a triumphant solo performance at the Olympia, Dalida continued her career on her own.
They say a new hair color can start a new life; Dalida went blonde. The golden look made her stand out, but it didn’t bring happiness. In 1962 she bought an atmospheric house in Montmartre—a historic building in the heart of Paris where the writer Louis-Ferdinand Céline had written Journey to the End of the Night. By a grim coincidence, Dalida would end her life in that same house.
Dalida’s villa in Montmartre.
For a time she enchanted the public as one of France’s top singers, filling the gap after the death of Édith Piaf in 1963. Amid the twist and rock ‘n’ roll era, Dalida found new love in 1966 with Italian singer and composer Luigi Tenco. Their duet failed to win the San Remo Festival audience in 1967, and after that disastrous evening Tenco took his own life in a hotel, unable to cope with the voting results.
Dalida at San Remo in 1967
It later emerged that Tenco had intended to end the relationship. In a letter published after his death he described the star in harsh terms, expressed regret about their romance, and planned to break up. Dalida didn’t know this and nearly followed his path. In deep anguish she attempted suicide; doctors pulled her back from the brink, but the coma that followed left lasting damage: partial deafness, memory lapses, and skin grafts on her hands after tissue necrosis. She underwent several surgeries. During that period she was supported by her ex-husband, but in 1970 Maurice also took his own life.
Unbearable Life
Her concert hiatus lasted many months—she wasn’t able to face the public. When she returned to the stage she seemed reborn: a different person, marked by suffering, awareness, and remorse. Her repertoire shifted toward songs with deeper, more philosophical lyrics. “He’s Only 18” and “Words, Words” (“Paroles,” recorded as a duet with actor Alain Delon) became worldwide hits.
Duet with Alain Delon
In 1972 Dalida fell in love with artist Richard Chanfray, and they were happy together for nine years—until a tragic incident. One day he nearly killed an innocent person, having mistaken that person for a robber. After serving time in prison, Richard did not return to her life; in 1983 he took his own life. The news shocked Dalida: three of the men she loved had now chosen to end their lives. The press labeled her the “Black Widow.” Fans grew worried when, in 1984, she announced that her new show, “The Perfect Dalida,” would be her farewell.
Dalida was losing strength and her sight. It became harder and harder for her to step into the spotlight; at home she began sleeping with the lights on. Only her fifth eye surgery preserved her vision. The singer did not lose her sight, but she felt she had lost herself.
In 1986 Dalida released her last album, The Face of Love. She returned to her roots and appeared in her homeland in the film The Sixth Day, playing an old woman without makeup. Neither project brought her joy.
She increasingly felt the best parts of her life were behind her. “I have lived enough and achieved a lot, but something in my life did not work out,” she said, the holder of a diamond record. Her records sold some 120 million copies. Over 30 years on stage she performed about 2,000 songs in eight languages, yet she concluded, “an artist lives and dies alone.”
In her most dramatic song, Je suis malade (“I Am Sick”), she described her state in plain terms: “I drink every night. But all whiskeys taste the same to me. And on all ships—your flag. I no longer know where to go; you are everywhere. This love is killing me. And someday I will end my life alone, listening to my voice on the radio in a song. I am hopelessly sick.”
At 54 she revisited the decision she’d once made before her first suicide attempt: she again mixed barbiturates with alcohol. The night of May 2–3, 1987, was her last. Her death was confirmed at 11 a.m. Her final message, written on her suicide note, read: “Life has become unbearable for me. Forgive me.”
The star’s name now graces a square in Montmartre—here, the price of life is often measured in sacrifices to art.
The bust of Dalida, installed in the tiny square named after the singer
