Some months ago, a French magazine commissioned me to write an article on the Royal wedding to accompany Adelaide-raised, London-based fashion photographer Leah McQueen's beautiful images. They never ended up being published and I finally have permission to share it with you all.
‘For
better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,’ takes on a whole new meaning when
you’re marrying into the British monarchy. The world has been swept away by the
Cinderella story of the Prince and his bride – so much so that electricity
consumption in Canada and the UK saw a plunge during key moments in the live
broadcast.
Compared
with the lavish galas of centuries past, Prince William and Catherine’s wedding
was a miserly affair. The pair’s two
wedding cakes might seem Lucullian to some, but William’s parents, Charles and
Diana, had 27 at their wedding – with backup cakes made in case anything went
wrong. Even in the post-war frugality of 1947, the wedding of Queen Elizabeth
II and Prince Philip had 12 cakes, with the official one standing 2.5 metres
high.
It all
seems a little out of place in a post-modern world. You get the feeling the
royal family doesn’t quite know where they stand anymore. Pomp and circumstance
are no longer welcome, regality a quaint sideshow in an unsettled world on the
edge of war. The Middle East is one enormous killing field; Africa is starving;
America is enslaved in greed.
But perhaps
that’s why so many of us are so quick to embrace this romantic remnant of days
past. Love in its unadulterated form is so rare that when it does appear, the
world is captivated like a little girl with a butterfly. Estimates of global
viewers of the live broadcast on April 29 are as high as two billion people,
despite the obstinately anti-monarchist sector of society that avoided all talk
of such cavalier frivolity.
And
avoiding it would have been far from easy: everything from Princess Beatrice’s
hat to Pippa Middleton’s rear end dominated global conversation.
Indeed, even for those steeped in cynicism, it would have been difficult not to gasp at Catherine’s beauty in her Sarah Burton for Alexander McQueen gown, with its intricate lacework and 2.7 metre train. Her sister and maid of honour, Pippa, wore a slim-fitting column gown by the same designer, which flattered her curves so well that she was swiftly dubbed ‘Her Royal Hotness’ by many.
The Queen’s granddaughters, Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie, nearly stole the spotlight with their whimsical Phillip Treacy millinery, which caused a stir among the self-appointed ‘fashion police’ of the tabloids. Beatrice’s taupe bow-shaped hat even gathered comparisons to a pair of ovaries, comparisons which she shrugged off with grace.
Unlike his cousins’ idiosyncratic style, William’s wedding remained strictly within the realms of tradition. And even with a million well-wishers gathered on the streets of London, 5,000 police, and 1,900 invited guests, the wedding could not have run more smoothly.
A few days later, the world woke up to news of Osama bin Laden’s death. The girl married her prince and the bad guy was killed. Perhaps, suggested a friend, the week had been sponsored by Disney.
Chanelle
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