Tuesday, December 19, 2006

it sucks to be the queen...

I love royalty.
I love the tiaras. I love the castles. I love the constant portrait painting. And I’ve been obsessed since an early trip to England, where at 5 years old, I was purchased a Princess Diana paper doll with corresponding outfits.
I can still see each outfit: the red maternity dress, the blue gown, the constant jewelry, the ever present crown. Perhaps standing outside Buckingham Palace watching the changing of the guard in a Harrod’s wool coat and matching beret (which, of course, I still have), I decided right then and there.
Castles. Gowns. Tiaras.
Yeah.
Hell yeah.
My mother thought we were sightseeing. I thought we were planning my future.
I mean it. I could do this. Throw me in a fur cape, stick some diamonds on my head and kick my ass into a throne. Somewhere in the back of my head, I’ve been scheming for a goddamn HRH in front of my name for years.
Well, folks. The dream has died.
I just saw The Queen.
First of all, sadly I’ve always identified much more with loudmouth Fergie, Duchess of Pork than the effervescent, doe-eyed Princess Diana. I’m much more likely to stand around the palace kitchen, making bad fashion choices and sneaking Brandy with Jeeves than cradling AIDS babies and batting the flies out of the eyes of African children. The only thing Diana and I would have had in common was Elton John.
That being said, I’ve idolized that woman since I idolized that paper doll in 1983. And I am now pissed at the Queen. She’s ruining everything! The whole point of being royalty is wretched excess, appalling behavior and incest. This commitment to stoic, uptight, frumpy restraint is a waste of fabulous resources.
Aside form the fact that those Windsor’s are portrayed not really giving a shit about Diana’s death, which is disgusting, their whole attitude about being royalty is boring and unappreciative. They need look no further than King Ralph for a glowing example of how to conduct oneself.
Finally, I wanted to see more Prince William sobbing hysterically and lamenting his dead mother. Is that wrong…

6 comments:

Vernetta said...

probably...

Anonymous said...

I think you might get your chance at the fab royal concert...http://fadedyouth.blogspot.com/2006/12/royal-concert.html

sfmike said...

No, it is not wrong. That was one boring-ass movie, with a distinct lack of tiaras and Helen Mirren being all dowdy in Scotland. The most enjoyable moment was James Cromwell as Prince Phillip dissing all the "gay interior decorators and celebrities, including Elton John" who had been invited to Princess Di's Westminster funeral. More sniffling William could only have helped.

Spots said...

SFMike, aside from the whole opera thing, sometimes I think we're the same person...

honorary roomie said...

gasp. you didn't cry, tears streaming down your cheeks, when the little girl refused to let her place the flowers because, "they're for you." i died. i went out immediately and bought a tweed skirt and a brooch.
god save the queen.

redtown said...

"Those Windsors are portrayed as not really giving a shit about Diana's death..."

The one character not developed in the film was Diana herself.  The "people's princess" remains the icon of superficial popular culture.  But the Royal family knew a very different Diana -- the one behind the facades of glamour and pseudo-compassion.

Both Diana and her brother, Charles Spencer, suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder caused by their mother's abandoning them as young children.  A google search reveals that Diana is considered a case study in BPD by mental health professionals.

For Charles Spencer, BPD meant insatiable sexual promiscuity (his wife was divorcing him at the time of Diana's death). For Diana, BPD meant intense insecurity and insatiable need for attention and affection which even the best husband could never fulfill. 

Clinically, it's clear that the Royal family did not cause her "problems". Rather, she brought her multiple issues into the marriage, and the Royal family was hapless to deal with them.

Her illness, untreated, sowed the seeds of her fast and unstable lifestyle, and sadly, her tragic fate.