Royal Weddings, Realities and Fantasy

by Kathy E. Shrout, April 25, 2011, rd Magazine


Tiaras. All the best brides are wearing them.

It’s a fairy-tale opener with a contemporary coda: Once upon a time, Prince William, the twenty-something who will be king, married the comely commoner, Kate Middleton, in a grand ceremony in Westminster Abbey. The event inspired two sorts of media reactions: first, a barrage of intense interest, including giddy scrutiny from wedding experts and the large pool of people who have written books about the royals, and second, grumbling about the press coverage on the grounds that it is frivolous, distracting, or stupid.

The Attack of the 50-ft. Wedding

Neither of these reactions is a surprise, and both fail to raise the most important question about the Western love affair with weddings: why? Why do we devote such attention to this ritual?

Why does the average cost of an American wedding hover at roughly half of the average annual income? Why do we have a seemingly insatiable market for reality TV shows about weddings? Why, in a culture that eschews formal ritual in other contexts, do we seem so fascinated by processionals and symbolic candle-lighting?

Religiously speaking, weddings are layered with contradiction. On the one hand, most North American weddings take place in religious spaces, are officiated by clergy, and/or use ritual forms that are at least derived from religious understandings of marriage.

On the other hand, clergy have long sermonized that people are neglecting the sacred aspect of the ceremony—that all this business about dresses and parties is beside the point. For American Protestants this is an awkward historical argument since weddings are far more religiously important for most Protestant churches today than they were two hundred years ago when they were relatively deemphasized as social occasions. But, for the past century and a half, Christian anxieties about the decline of marriage—coupled with the development of a sophisticated twentieth-century wedding industry—have conspired to turn weddings into bigger and bigger deals, religiously and otherwise. Add the ongoing political and religious battles over same-sex marriage and the many-tiered wedding cake of public discourse begins to teeter precipitously.

Any Bride Can Be a Princess

A royal wedding, as anyone not living under a foreclosed rock has noticed, is an especially big deal. For a people so proud of democracy, Americans love princess brides.

Should you choose to watch the coverage of the William-Kate wedding for even thirty seconds, you will be reminded that William’s parents, Prince Charles and Diana Spencer, also married in a “fairy-tale wedding” in 1981. Diana wore a widely praised creampuff of a dressthat influenced nuptial fashion on both sides of the Atlantic for the decade that followed, and the event is sometimes credited for reigniting the taste for big, expensive weddings in the 1980s.

In 1981 there was a nasty recession going on in Great Britain, and many noted that a spectacle wedding was hardly the best use of resources. But then, as now, the wedding was also heralded as something to lift spirits in grim economic times. That is attributing a lot of power to one televised ritual.

A royal wedding is, of course, a state occasion in the U.K.—a chance to watch the British monarchy mark a historically fateful point on the life course. But it is also simply an exaggerated, iconic version of a Western wedding. Kate Middleton might literally become a royal on her wedding day, but the contemporary wedding promises that any bride in white can be a symbolic princess.

In the past two centuries, the Western bride has been visually associated with all sorts of images of ideal femininity: the Virgin Mary, saints, angels, movie stars. The most consistent icon, though, has been the princess. In the twentieth century especially, advertising directly referred to the “storybook bride,” or dresses cut in “princess style,” or veiled headdresses topped with tiaras and crowns.

Some of this crown fetish comes to us directly from the granddaddy of contemporary weddings: the 1841 wedding of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. In her own wedding and the nuptials of her children, Victoria popularized the white dress, the processional, the tiered cake, and the bridal march from Lohengrin (a.k.a. “Here comes the bride”)—not only for English royals, but for middle-class folks, too. After Victoria’s wedding, etiquette books began to refer to the “white wedding” as a kind of ritual marked by formality, the symbolic color white, a certain measure of expense, and an emphasis given to the bride herself.

In 1841, some observers wondered why egalitarian Americans, who ought to know better than to admire the foolish trappings of monarchy, were so taken with the wedding of a queen. But in the century-plus since, it has become clear that not only royal weddings evoke royal fantasies. The contemporary wedding has become crucially about women identifying with the fairy-tale princess, that figure of nonspecific beauty and power.

Feminine Upward Mobility

If there is one myth that undergirds the wedding ritual today it is the story of Cinderella, the most popular fairy-tale princess for marriages. (For a brilliant study of the potency of the Cinderella myth where weddings are concerned, see Otnes and Pleck’s Cinderella Dreams.) Cinderella, of course, is the adolescent from humble origins who is transformed into princessly adulthood with the right dress, shoes, and vehicles. Seventeenth-century versions of the story emphasize that she was a noblewoman all along, that good breeding shows even through bad circumstances.

But this wasn’t the theme seized upon by Walt Disney and others in the twentieth century. The American Cinderella is a girl who achieves princesshood, rather than being born into it, simply by being gifted with the right things. It is a myth of feminine upward mobility, facilitated through consumption, enacted by women especially on the wedding day. It is about rite of passage—how girls become women—and I, for one, would argue the transition is brought about less by Prince Charming than it is by the Fairy Godmother, the kindly feminine personification of the marketplace. You become a woman by becoming visibly beautiful, and you become beautiful by getting the right stuff.

Unromantic as it may sound, this celebration of the transformative power of consumption seems to be part of the magic of the wedding day for many women. On this day I am more beautiful, elegant, and radiant than any otherOn this day everything is perfect and lavish and matching. A real-life royal wedding, televised and celebrated by millions, represents and encapsulates this magic for those who eagerly watch and read about it.

It might be tempting for some—especially for anyone nostalgic for some mythic age of piety—to argue that the wedding-as-princess-pageant represents a secularization of the marriage rite. But the truth is that the celebration of consumption, the acting-out of the princess ritual, is its own expression of what has become sacred.

Mrs. Bennet Would Be Proud

The New York Times Opinion Pages

by Amanda Vickery, November 17, 2010

Much has been made of the ordinariness and modernity that Kate Middleton will inject into the Windsor brand. She hails from rich but petit bourgeois stock and is descended from coal miners. She looks highly competent, self-possessed and sensible – the epitome of that great British adjective – “nice.” I wish her well.

But in one key respect, the Wales-Middleton alliance is highly anachronistic. Unlike the wives of modern leaders, Kate Middleton has neither independent career nor, by the looks of it, separate ambitions. Nick Clegg is married to a leading commercial lawyer; Ed Milliband’s partner is another barrister, and even aristocratic Samantha Cameron, the wife of Prime Minister David Cameron, forged her own identity in fashion as creative director of the upmarket stationery company Smythsons.

While most young women of her expensive education and qualifications (a good degree in art history) make a livelihood in commerce, arts administration, media or P.R., Ms Middleton has dabbled in her parents’ mail order business and designed her life around her boyfriend’s movements.

I’m a historian of 18th-century Britain and I’m struck by the antique qualities of Middleton’s modus operandi. Miss Catherine Elizabeth Middleton would not be out of place in a Rococo drawing room or a Jane Austen novel. She even has all the qualities exhibited by the ideal Georgian wife – clean sexiness, social skill, self-control, loyalty and a total lack of eccentric ambitions that might detract from the male project. She has secured her prize before the bloom has gone off the rose (about 27, according to Austen, but that was before the respectable wore makeup). Mrs. Bennet would be proud.

Amanda Vickery is a professor of history at Royal Holloway, University of London. She is the author of “The Gentleman’s Daughter” and “Behind Closed Doors: At Home in Georgian England.”

Blame Disney For Our Royal Wedding Excitement

by Dodai Stewart,, November 17, 2010

Blame Disney For Our Royal Wedding Excitement

The United States has no monarchy. We pride ourselves on being a democratic society, and often seem to strive towards meritocracy. But now that there’s going to be a royal wedding in the UK, we are all in a tizzy!

So why do we care that Prince William has asked Kate Middleton to be his bride? A theory: It’s Walt Disney’s fault.

Like many Americans, my introduction to the concept of royalty — specifically princesses — came at an early and impressionable age. I watched movies like Sleeping Beauty, Snow White and Cinderella before I ever took a history lesson, and thanks to Robin Hood, it took me a long time to process the fact that King Richard was not actually a lion and Maid Marian was not, in fact, a fox. (A vixen? Perhaps!)

For me, an American pop-culture junkie, Prince William and Kate Middleton’s engagement means one thing: She gets to be a Princess. And seriously, some part of me, formed when I was three or four, believes that this means she will be dressed by birds, wear clothes sewn by tiny mice, and have woodland creatures as friends. Oh, sure, there’s a handsome Prince, but more important are the jewels! And the singing! And the castles! And the woodland creatures.

See, in my mind, this is rare documentary film footage of Kate Middleton and Prince William on vacation in Kenya, where he proposed:

And this is what the wedding will look like: (Please note the bluebirds and mice).


Right now, it’s not about the patriarchy, the monarchy, or some kind of oppressive role for women that involves being shackled to an inbred family and forced to produce heirs. It’s not about the heteronormative only-a-man-can-fulfill-you message. For me, a royal romance harkens back to the innocence of childhood, of stories, myths and yes, fairy tales. It speaks of dreams, and daydreams, in which a girl could go from ordinary (yes, I know Kate’s parents are millionaires) to royal in the blink of an eye, and suddenly have the world — and a horse-drawn carriage — at her feet. A fantasy where love is all that matters! Where living happily ever after is inevitable. Also: Woodland creatures!

This entry was posted in anglophilia, fairy tales, jane austen, matrimony, princesses. Bookmark the permalink.

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