Audrey Hepburn’s Shocking Wartime Diet That Nearly Killed Her—and Its Lasting Impact on Her Body Image
OPINION: This article may contain commentary which reflects the author's opinion.
Audrey Hepburn, immortalized in Hollywood history as the epitome of elegance and grace, carried private burdens that starkly contrasted her public image. Behind the chic black dresses and captivating smile, Hepburn’s lifelong relationship with food and her body was indelibly scarred by the trauma she endured as a child during World War II.
Born in Belgium and raised in Nazi-occupied Holland, Hepburn’s formative years were defined by deprivation and fear. Nowhere was this more apparent than during the brutal “Hunger Winter” of 1944-45. At just 15, Hepburn and her family survived on a starvation diet: a single slice of brown bean bread for breakfast, thin potato broth for lunch, and whatever turnips, endives, or even tulip bulbs they could scavenge. “We had no light, no heat, no water. We had no food because all the shops were closed,” she later recalled. The war left her severely malnourished, her body swollen and weak, her spirit forced into a daily battle for survival.
The impact of these experiences went far beyond physical recovery. Modern research and testimony from those who knew Hepburn best suggest that the near-starvation of her youth shaped a complicated, often troubled relationship with food that lasted her entire life. Her son, Luca Dotti, revealed in his book Audrey at Home that his mother developed “very strange eating habits,” often losing her appetite entirely when stressed or anxious—a pattern not uncommon for survivors of trauma.
Biographer Diana Maychick’s Audrey Hepburn: An Intimate Portrait goes further, arguing that Hepburn developed a “purposeful distaste for food” as a coping mechanism during the war. “I decided to master food; I told myself I didn’t need it,” Hepburn once said, describing a psychological shift that may have been the roots of anorexia. Maychick, along with other sources, points to frequent episodes of depression and Hepburn’s consistently fragile frame—her adult weight ranged from 88 to 110 pounds at 5’7”—as further evidence of a long-term eating disorder.
However, Hepburn’s family and closest companions have pushed back on these claims, insisting that her delicate appearance was more a product of genetics, metabolism, and an active lifestyle than disordered eating. Both her sons and her longtime partner, Robert Wolders, have described her as a lover of Italian food and pasta, someone who ate well and enjoyed long walks rather than restrictive diets or excessive exercise. “She had a healthy metabolism, but she was not excessive,” Wolders emphasized, while her son Sean has noted her balanced approach to food and her zest for life.
Still, the speculation about Hepburn’s health persists, fueled by the contrast between her “chunky baby” childhood and the slender, waifish figure the world came to know. Some experts believe that the trauma of the war, combined with the pressures of ballet and later Hollywood, made Hepburn especially vulnerable to issues of body image and self-worth, challenges she confronted privately even as she captivated millions with her outward poise.
Perhaps the truest portrait of Audrey Hepburn is one that embraces both her luminous strength and her silent struggles. Her story is a poignant reminder that even the most admired icons may be fighting invisible battles—and that the legacies we cherish are often shaped as much by resilience in adversity as by moments of triumph.