Its impossible to open a newspaper (or terrible gossip magazine….) at the moment without having to endure a thorough examination of the sartorial decisions of our young royals. Yawn. It’s not that I particularly have anything against them, it’s just that there doesn’t seem to be anything worth talking about.
There seems to be a distinct lack of imagination amongst the monarchy in the real world, and I would far rather muse on the wardrobe possibilities of a make believe Russian princess, banished to India and lost in the fragile pages of a dusty book.
It’s hard to know which aspect of the collection to envelop my make-believe monarch in first – the sinister romance of her pre-monarchy days when she lived in a knarled elm tree in textured black and disheveled cloud-like hair? The transition of the binding tailoring that mimics the restrictions of royal life (and beats Kate Middleton’s knee length skirts hands down)? Or the swan-like tulle and beaded hair of the transformed Queen herself?
With so much royal detail to incorporate into my summer wardrobe, I may be floating a little higher above the ground, shoulders back and chin tilted in regal reverie.