In her bestselling memoir “Uptown Girl,” supermodel Christie Brinkley recounts the public exposure of her husband’s affair—a revelation she says “almost broke” her. To mark the book’s release earlier this year, the 71‑year‑old appears on the cover of Social Life Magazine and reflects on revealing both the peaks and the darkest valleys of her life.
While narrating the audiobook she repeatedly urged herself not to cry. The publisher, she recalls, allowed complete authenticity—letting her voice waver and crack rather than polishing the emotion away.
A central passage describes learning that her fourth husband, architect Peter Cook, had been unfaithful after eight years of marriage.
In 2006, attending a graduation to deliver a speech, she was approached by a man who quietly delivered information that struck with the force of a wrecking ball. She asked him to repeat it, then turned toward Cook.
Looking at her son Jack, she saw his face frozen in alarm—he sensed instantly that something was terribly wrong. Scanning the audience, she noticed open mouths, a scene that evoked “The Scream.” It felt as though everyone already knew; some might have judged, others perhaps not, but she felt exposed and faint, as if the floor might give way.
When she requested a card, the man said he had none—he was a police officer from the Southampton station. After the ceremony Jack rushed to her asking what had happened. She told him she needed to go to the station, where more details about her crumbling marriage awaited.
Brinkley admits she feared the book would just sit unnoticed or embarrass her children. Instead, readers embraced it; their response moved her to tears.
The officer, she writes, was the father of the 18‑year‑old involved with Cook. “From Peter’s face I knew he was guilty.” In a single heartbeat she felt herself become the cliché: a middle‑aged woman whose husband is involved with someone far younger.
That night Cook was out of the house. Friends urged her to inspect the family computer and came over to assist—an operation she likens to a scene from “Charlie’s Angels.” Guessing passwords, she opened what she calls a “creepy labyrinth” of folders: chains of emails, incriminating images, adult site accounts. The surreal excess triggered nervous laughter; soon the three women were doubled over as printouts piled across the floor.
The breakup escalated into six years of courtroom conflict. The divorce became tabloid fodder and a media spectacle, yet for her it was primarily a mother’s fight to protect her children.
Today she finds calm working in her garden, drawing a parallel with Pamela Anderson. Brinkley feels both women were once misread, surrounded by invented myths, and now have reclaimed their own narratives. They are not “salon blondes,” she says, but hands‑in‑the‑earth women who blossom among their plants.
Brinkley emphasizes that love is the most powerful force and surrounds her in many forms: affection for friends, family, nature, and those who defend the environment. Should romantic love arrive again, she would welcome it, but she already feels content and richly loved.
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