If you’re anything like me you spent large chunks of the weekend gagging for updates about Pippa Middleton’s wedding.
Pippa’s dress? Tick! Kate’s dress? Tick. George and Charlotte wearing adorable outfits and doing something cute or naughty? Tick and tick.
Once we realized we weren’t going to get a glimpse of Meghan Markle, there was only one thing left to dissect: the guests.
And they didn’t disappoint. There was Princess Beatrice, looking pleasantly dowdy in a boxy navy get-up. Here was a gaggle of horsey society types swathed head-to-toe in shot silk of a pinky-beigey colour I came to think of as “Band-Aid”. There were all manner of flat, round hats – plopped on the wearers’ heads like cowpats. “The English upper-crust just don’t know what to do with themselves when they’re forced out of wellies and Barbour jackets,” I remarked to an English friend who knows the type well. “Exactly!” she confirmed.
But even as I sniggered, I couldn’t help thinking that these fairly ordinary men and women (well as ordinary as you can be when you live in a castle and have the word “Viscountess” before your name or “The Third” after it) were a welcome relief from the highly-styled, overgroomed weddings that flood our instagram accounts and weekly magazines every day. No one was wearing a painfully self-conscious It Shoe. There were no contrived poses in front of twee 3D hand-lettered signs. No one looked cold, because they’d all brought along a sensible wrap or cape. And most importantly, no one looked better than the bride herself. In short, they all looked like they put on something smart and cheerful – something they may well have worn to half a dozen weddings already – and planned to invest their energies in celebrating the happy couple and having a jolly good knees-up later.
Don’t get me wrong, I love an exactingly-styled instawedding as much as the next person. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t spend a few moments wondering if the floral colour scheme at my own wedding would come up nicely when converted into a Juno filter. But for once it was nice to see one that didn’t feel competitive or showy. Where Aunt Agatha looked just as comfortable and welcome as the part-time model cousin with the eyelash extensions.
The royals (or demi-royals) may live be blessed with the sort of riches and privilege that few of us could ever dream of. And yet somehow, they managed to come across as more down-to-earth and relatable than an Instagram influencer or reality TV star. And I’ll tip my poky little flat hat thingy to that.
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