Royal fiasco

I’m used to life’s disappointments but this was a bit more than I could take. Is it too much to ask for that the royal wedding be, well, royal? Instead of a solemn, beautiful ceremony where the bride and groom conducted themselves with style and grace, we were treated to a reality show, Yankee-style. A quite mad minister went old-school Revival in his sermon, an all-black choir attempted to make an inclusive statement, and Harry talked, made faces and giggled. Ms Markel, meanwhile, looked like she had gotten the role of a lifetime, which she, of course, has.

But the wedding dress. Here is where the battle lines were drawn. MM on one side trying to show the world what a simple soul she really is, and the fashion-savvy staring goggle-eyed at what can only be described as a travesty. There is plain and then there is plain. This gown from Givenchy was plain dull. It had no embellishments, no style, no creative touches and was, quel horreur, ill-fitting. Was the wedding a surprise? Did the House have no time to get it right so that the bodice was made to fit the bride, like Kate Middleton’s was? There we were waiting to see the entire point of the show and what a damp squib it turned out to be. I kept staring thinking, surely she’ll turn around at some point and we will see the most stunning detail which would make up for this cinched curtain drape but alas. I’ve seen runway show finales with more stunning wedding dresses, but then what could you have expected when they get political instead of personal? At a royal wedding. Is nothing sacred?

The only thing that saved the entire fiasco was Zara Phillips’ stunned face, mirroring our own, albeit less publicly.