My dear friend Roberta and I went to see Princess Diana’s dresses yesterday at the Very Big Mall. You are forbidden to take photos inside the exhibit. One teeny, tiny little old lady in a large red hat was taken to the ground when she took a snap of the wedding dress. You could, however, photograph this replica of the wedding cake all you liked:
Those decorations on the sides are different state symbols. Thank goodness there were not state symbols on mine. Just dessert-y goodness. Can you imagine? “Oh, look! I got the Windsor coat of arms!”
Truthfully, I got a little misty in the wedding dress room. I was 13 when she got married. The perfect age to imagine there was an older charming prince waiting for me. The dress is starting to yellow and it looks dated by today’s wedding dress standards, but it is still certainly beautiful. In fact, with the exception of a few dresses she wore during her engagement, all of the dresses displayed were beautiful and classic. You could wear any one of them today and no one would notice that you were wearing something 15 plus years old. She had good taste . . . or she was surrounded by people with good taste. Either way.
In the end, even though my prince doesn’t have as much nobility as hers, I think I got the better end of the deal, if not the clothes. My prince is unarguably better looking and more emotionally stable. He did not come with lands and castles, but he came with Jeremy and Shelby and that was a pretty good deal.
Plus, no one from the press is chasing me down. Well, except for Jimmy who publishes a monthly paper for seniors. We saw each other at preschool pick up.
He wanted to tell me he saw my letter in Newsweek.