Introduction
At 84, Ann-Margret Finally Opens Up About Her Love for Elvis Presley
Ann-Margret, born Ann-Margret Olsson on April 28, 1941, in the small Swedish village of Valsjöbyn, has lived a life that reads like a Hollywood script—complete with humble beginnings, meteoric stardom, and a love story that has fascinated fans for decades. Moving to the United States at just five years old, she grew up in Chicago, quickly adapting to her new home and nurturing her talent for performance. Her big break came in the early 1960s, when comedian George Burns gave her a shot in Las Vegas, leading to her first film role in Pocketful of Miracles (1961) and then stardom in Bye Bye Birdie (1963).
By 1964, Ann-Margret was sharing the screen with Elvis Presley in Viva Las Vegas. Their on-screen chemistry was undeniable—and off-screen, it became something more. Now, at 84, Ann-Margret has decided to speak openly about the truth behind their relationship, peeling back decades of speculation and myth.
She recalls that she and Elvis were instantly drawn to each other. Both passionate performers, they shared a love of music, a mischievous sense of humor, and an unspoken understanding of the loneliness fame can bring. “He made me laugh like no one else,” she reflects, remembering private dances and heartfelt conversations that mirrored the energy they radiated on film.
Yet, even in the heat of their romance, Ann-Margret knew the limits. Elvis’s ongoing relationship with Priscilla Beaulieu—later his wife—cast a shadow over what they had. Their love was intense but ultimately unsustainable. Still, she never spoke ill of him, not during his lifetime and not after his passing in 1977. Out of deep respect, she kept their private moments sacred.
One of the most touching details she shares is how Elvis continued to send her flowers in the shape of a guitar every time she opened a new Las Vegas show—long after their romance ended. She kept every single one.
Today, Ann-Margret speaks not to stir scandal, but to honor a man she deeply admired. Her words are less a confession and more a love letter—filled with warmth, respect, and the bittersweet memory of a connection that burned brightly, even if briefly.