Keira Knightley got married today to her keyboardist husband James Righton (as in, “Right on James, you married the British version of Natalie Portman”) in the South of France. This is a big deal to me because I have tricked myself into thinking I discovered Keira when she was in Bend It Like Beckham. All I remember saying in 2002 besides “Kill me, I’m still in high school” had to do with that movie.
Blah blah blah soccer movie. David Beckham. India. Girl with short hair. Guru Nanak.
In 2003 I switched to “Did you see that girl from Bend It Like Beckham in Pirates of the Caribbean yet???”
Blah blah blah Johnny Depp. Rum. Elizabeth Swann.
ANYWAY, the press caught wind of Keira’s wedding when they saw her people setting up tents 12 miles outside of Marseilles, near the mansion her family owns.
The town hall ceremony was low-key with only 11 flip-flop wearing guests (mostly family) and the bride wearing a daisy chain in her hair and a Chanel jacket and dress.
The couple topped it off by driving away in a “battered” old Renault Clio that had “seen better days.”
Let me just note that Telegraph just pulled a Justin Bieber, calling Karl Lagerfeld “the director of Channel.”