Lying in bed this morning, I decided to read the Daily Mail on my iPhone, so I could get straight to work when I finally gathered the courage to emerge from underneath the comforter. The first news item I read was about the first official portrait of Princess Catherine (aka Kate Middleton), which is now hanging in the National Portrait Gallery in London.
The Daily Mail is outraged, calling the depiction, by the artist Paul Emsley, “rotten.” But I have to say, I think that it is fairly accurate.
Princess Kate, after all of the make-up and hair styling, is a fairly nice looking person. But she is not a beauty for the ages.
I’ve spent a fair part of my life thinking about royal portraits. As a girl, I frequently looked at paintings of princesses to determine whether or not they were beautiful, and if so, whether I was more beautiful.
I might do a Friday post every week about things that make me angry. For instance, I’m all worked up this morning about what Kate Middleton’s been wearing on her Pre-Olympic appearances.
Like, alright, this would be nice if she was fucking going to a Sunday morning baby shower on Long Island, but she is a fucking PRINCESS. I swear to God, I have the exact same wedges from Payless. And that belt, I gave it away at my stoop sale because I bought it at the bargain bin at H&M.
All of the nicer fashion blogs are all excited that Kate bought the dress above for 35 pounds sterling, or whatever the fuck. They praise her because she buys her own clothing on a shoestring budget. WHY THE FUCK IS SHE BUYING HER OWN CLOTHING?? If there’s anything the British royal family should be investing in, it should be dressing Kate Middleton, because Lord only knows she’s the only cash cow in the family now that William is balding.
I don’t know what got me on the topic, but I’ve just spent an hour reading about the relationship between Princess Diana and Sarah Ferguson, mother of Eugenie and Sophie, one time saw by my father at a bar in midtown, former Duchess of York.
There’s a lot of juice there, but what really drew me in was the pictures of them together.
Because they look so happy, like they’re soccer moms watching their kids play a game, rather than royalty bored out of their minds.
So yesterday was Queen Elizabeth’s Jubilee. I have no idea what that means, but it seems like there was a pretty rocking party on the Thames River.
I was going to make a big deal about it. Maybe write a live blog. Maybe do a second by second breakdown of everything Kate Middleton wore. BUT SHE ONLY WORE ONE THING.
While everyone in my family dressed up in their favorite pajamas from Kohls, Prince Catherine (aka Kate Middleton) changed no less than five times to celebrate Christmas with the Royals at Sandringham.
I have been eagerly, EAGERLY awaiting to see what muted colors and boring cuts she would wear, and I was, as usual, riveted.
So far, I’ve only been able to find pictures of two of the outfits—one of her walking somewhere with Princess Beatr-eastly in a gray coat and fuck-me-boots, and a lot of her in a horrid maroon hat, accepting flowers from children.
She should have taken some queues from the queen, who as usual, did it right, both on her way to visit Prince Philip in the hospital:
“Guess how they say, ‘How do you do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Vus machs die, meshuganeh?’ And if you want to say ‘Fine, thank you,’ you say either ‘Like a bird from a crisp corn pie,’ or ‘Straight up, bro.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Certainly. I now know lots of these phrases. We’ll blend right in. For instance, how do you say, ‘I’m famished’?
‘You say, “Amaw make me a date wit da colonel.’”
—From Freddy and Fredericka, a fictional satire by Mark Helprin about Prince Charles and Princess Diana’s first trip to America
Princess Catherine and Prince William were in Los Angeles this weekend to go to a Polo match, pretend to be interested in children, and meet celebrities desperate for some good publicity.
Kate Middleton’s parents released pictures of her from childhood earlier this week in an attempt, I assume, to endear her to the public before the Royal Wedding.
(I’m not entirely certain what’s supposed to be endearing about this photo, although on a certain level, it does make me relate to Kate, because my mother used to give me the exact same hair cut with a pair of nail scissors and a sedative until I was old enough to threaten to jump out the window.)
I’ve decided to make this “low culture” week on my blog, as all that I seem compelled to write about is utter and total crap. Like yesterday’s announcement that that the British actress Camilla Luddington will play Kate Middleton in a soon to be released Lifetime television biopic entitled William & Kate.
What the fuck? I thought for sure I was a shoo in for the role. I’m already in negotiations with QVC to sell Royal Wedding commemorative china dressed as a Kate Middleton impersonator, for christ’s sake.