The dark side of the royal fairytale

Ros Coward
July 11, 2011

Kate Middleton may have performed her royal duties to perfection on her first foreign tour, but in Monaco Princess Charlene's marriage to her 'fairytale' prince has got off to a tricky start.


Any hopes that "princess mania" might die down have now been dashed by Kate's first royal trip to Canada. If anything, England's new princess looks set to attract ever more attention as the tour moves to California. But this week, as images were beamed back of her every outfit and move, a tale of another princess offered an interesting counterpoint. Pictures of Monaco's implausibly named Princess Charlene weeping through her wedding were an unsettling reminder that the reality of marrying into the European monarchy can be rather darker and more coercive.

Princess Diana's ghost was hovering over both "princess events", possibly conjured up by a scary photofit accompanying a recent Newsweek article by Tina Brown. Brown's article asked what Diana would have been like at 50. But perhaps, given Diana's unhappy example, the article ought to have asked other questions: why is our culture still so in thrall to the myth of the perfect princess and the happily-ever-after marriage? Why have we forgotten what that did to her?

The pull of this myth has been on full view during Kate and William's Canadian trip. Over a thousand photographers and journalists have followed them, a level of attention for a royal tour unseen since Diana's heyday. One can only imagine what the famously jealous Prince Charles, whose tours command only a handful of journalists, feels about being so upstaged. And while there is a great deal of interest in Prince Willliam - still young(ish), still presentable, and still carrying the affection that was extended to him after his mother died - it is the new princess (yes, she is a duchess by name, but a princess in every other sense) who really excites the media and the public.


The comments of the crowds turning out to greet her are revealing. They enthuse about how "sweet" and "gracious" she is, how her skin glows. Children interviewed about talking to "a real-life princess" said she was "kind" and "beautiful". Just as in the fairytales, the requirements on a real-life princess are pretty minimal: she has to have had the perfect wedding and then she has to look beautiful. Kate is performing well on both fronts, although one can't help noticing how thin she is and wondering about the strain of such attention.

In contrast to his father, William exudes enjoyment of his wife's popularity. Charles's failure to understand the public interest in the role of princess and future queen was just one of the many things he didn't grasp about his wife. But it had serious consequences. Hereditary royal power and privilege is problematic in an egalitarian democratic society, and royalty only survives through its symbolic potency. Increasingly, that symbolism has been located in the female royals. A female royal can represent power that is politically unthreatening, embodying ideals such as family stability and continuity - as the Queen has done. Increasingly, in a celebrity-fixated culture, female royals are also carrying other expectations, that they should be stylish and have the perfect body. If the woman is also a commoner, she makes the hereditary monarchy, with all its ancient privileges, look democratic and accessible.

Royalty needs these modern connotations and its female stars, but it is in fact a deeply old-fashioned patriarchal institution, positively medieval in the case of Monaco. For a modern young woman, suddenly becoming the centre of attention - idolised in public, but coerced in private - can be traumatic, as Diana discovered. This dark side of the fairytale was conjured up by images of Prince Albert and Princess Charlene's nuptials. Like Diana, Charlene clearly had her doubts. But while Diana's were expressed in private to her sister, who dismissed them as "too late" since her "face was already on the tea towels", Charlene's were on full display. Rumours had swirled in the European press that after reports of yet another paternity case against Albert - and this time a child allegedly conceived during Charlene's relationship with him - she had tried to run away three times back to South Africa, where she grew up. Her weeping at the vows looked more like distress than sentiment. Prince Albert's failure to comfort his bride brought to mind Prince Charles's public indifference to Diana, as did later pictures showing Charlene grimacing at Albert's kiss. If this was a fairytale romance, then it was the Brothers Grimm version


Hello! magazine's description was revealing. "With her head ever so slightly bowed, but with a composed smile on her face, the 33-year-old, who was raised thousands of miles away in a humble South African family, looked like she had been born to the role." Overlooking the bride's apparent distress, the magazine drooled over the details - the dress, the music by Paul McCartney, the celebrity guests. "There were gasps from the attendees as they took in her breathtaking appearance - her gorgeous Armani dress, with its spectacular train, and her hair, which was gathered at the nape with a jewelled headpiece."

While we expect overblown nonsense from Hello! (and can expect the marital disaster that usually follows), it sheds light on what is at stake in the modern fantasy: there must be a "fairytale" setting; her designer dress, hair and makeup must be perfect; there must be celebrities; her prince must be dashing; she must be thin. The aim of a royal wedding is to become "iconic" (Hello!'s words again). Hanging over their wedding was the ultimate modern-day iconic royal wedding: that of Albert's own mother, Princess Grace, who set the standard with her mix of style, Hollywood glamour and outsider status. Charlene scored well: the outsider from a humble background, who through her physique (she was an Olympic swimmer) captured the heart of ancient monarchy. It was only her tears that suggested her own unconscious recognised that far from a fairytale, this, in fact, may be the beginning of a long struggle.

Marina Warner, writing about the persistent appeal of the princess fantasy, cast light on what is at stake. The princess fairytale has "vindication" as a theme. Fairytale heroines - Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty - are all females who are lost, or mistreated; their beauty remaining unacknowledged until the special prince recognises them.


"These fairytale heroines are hidden from view, either locked up in a tower or disguised by soot and rags. The happy outcome reveals her true worth. The story promises vindication - one day you, too, will be discovered and understood and seen to be special."

Maybe that is why every bride wants her own royal wedding: it is the supreme moment of recognition. But what is being recognised? Is it the bride for who she is, or the bride for how much she can look like a princess?

In the commercialised environment of the contemporary wedding, more and more brides are aspiring to this symbolism. Kate and William's wedding gave it a huge boost. To the bewilderment of a generation of feminists, girls throughout the country snapped up princess dolls and tiaras while wedding days have became ever-more elaborate "princess for the day" fantasies. Celebrity weddings are all about this. The Beckhams aped a royal wedding, Katie Price turned up to hers in a pumpkin coach, and even cool Kate Moss went for "fairytale", surrounding herself by Arthur Rackham-style fairy bridesmaids.


We were reminded in a humorous way recently how far these fantasies have invaded even the humblest homes.

"No one gets married in a castle," wrote the mother-in-law from hell, Carolyn Bourne, in her now notorious email, "unless they own it. It is brash, celebrity-style behaviour and it would be most ladylike and gracious to lower your sights and have a modest wedding, as befits both your incomes."

Given the event has assumed such importance, it was all the more dramatic that Princess Charlene so spectacularly blew hers. She had found her prince wasn't a fairytale prince, but an all-too-real one before the event - rather than after it, as in Diana's case. Standing in her glorious dress in the glorious setting, it was a dramatic embodiment of the price a woman might have to pay in being inserted into monarchy to renew and modernise it. The event may have recognised her as special enough to be a princess, but had it recognised her need for personal happiness? Perhaps all brides, planning their elaborate settings and fussing over details, should ask a similar question; is this event recognising me or my ability to become a princess for a day? The ghost at every fairytale princess's wedding surely has to be Diana saying "remember me".


Guardian News & Media


http://www.theage.com.au/lifestyle/p...711-1h9s5.html