Thruth Thursday
I walked past a shop in my neighborhood this morning that sells vintage clothing and knick-knacks. Usually their window display, while cute and whimsical, doesn't catch my eye. But this morning I stopped in my tracks and feasted for several minutes on the most wonderful trinkets – it was a royal wedding bonanza.
Not only was there a plate with Charles and Diana's likenesses on it, there were also four or five marvelous pieces from Elizabeth II's coronation. There was a plate featuring The Duke of York and his crystal blue eyes and a young and quite glamorous Queen Mum. There was even something from Andrew and Fergie's wedding. Next to it all was a hideous floral purse with a handle, a flowery tiara and a dowdy dress that looks like it was custom made for Queen Elizabeth.
Sigh. It's royal wedding time.
I have so many friends who simply can't believe that I am planning to wake up early and watch as Kate Middleton becomes a princess. Who can't understand the attraction I have to the royal family. My husband asks me "Would you watch if it were the King of Sweden getting married? Duh – NO.
But I am not ashamed of my desire to participate in an event that, according to many sources,ONE-THIRD of the world will be watching on television. Or the telly, if you want to be really authentic.
I have long had a fascination with the British royals. Diana was 19 when she married Charles – and I was 18. I had no interest in anything so petty and foolish as a royal wedding back then. But I feel like I missed out on a world event, however trivial, by not watching, and have always regretted my absence. A few years later I read Anna Quindlen's "Life in the 30s" column about the royal wedding pig-out and swore that I would be there for the next one.
Part of me feels like Diana and I grew up together. Despite all the terrible, sordid things that went on in her life, both with and after Charles, I admired her for her good works, her beauty, her level head in raising Wills and Harry and her determination to break free of the shackles of the expectations of a royal family member. She was a fascinating woman, one who got more fascinating as she got older and farther away from the puffy, mutton-chop sleeves of the fairy tale princess dress. What we all learned from that dress is that fairy tales don't come true in real lives – even if those lives are steeped in royal majesty.
But still. Kate Middleton is about to become a princess. And she's marrying Diana's beautiful and stoic boy (we'll ignore the fact that he's starting to look more like Charles with a bad comb over.) They have a chance to get it right. I feel almost maternal towards them both.
I have a similar fascination with the Kennedy clan in this country. I can still picture that snapshot of Carolyn Bessette on her wedding day, looking simultaneously coy and princess-like and yet oh-so-sophisticated in her sheaf of a dress outside of the small, rural church in which she and John-John chose to get married to try to avoid the paparazzi. I was similarly riveted to the screen three years later when their plane disappeared over Martha's Vinyard. To this day, I ruminate on their tragedy, and wonder about what might have been.
But I have already written a full homage to fairy tales, so I won't wax on about that here. Suffice it to say that with a little dose of humor, an appropriately sedate fake tiara and a lot of English Breakfast tea, I will be enjoying my royal wedding watching with gusto.
And of course, playing the parlor game: what would your royal wedding guest name be? Start with Lord or Lady, add a grandparent's first name, and for the last name, string together the name of your first pet with the name of the street on which you grew up and add a hyphen.
Must go. Lady Edith Misha-Midwood off to watch the wedding, darling. Ta Ta.
photo by Made With Pink via Flickr
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