This morning while researching information for this post, I asked myself…” where have I been for the last 10 years and how did I not notice Kate Middleton’s ascent to the heights of fashion icon?” Was it my lack of a Tee Vee and my eschewing fashion magazines and blogs? Or maybe my wanton disregard for all things pop culture?
David Patrick Columbia mentioned Kate briefly in June, 2010. How did I miss that?
Whatever it was then, I’m now fully woke to Her Royal Highness The Duchess of Cambridge.
To paraphrase Joseph’s Mankiewicz’s dialogue in the 1950 film All About Eve, “Kate, Kate, the Golden Girl, the Cover Girl, the Girl Next Door, the Girl on the Moon. Time has been good to Kate. Life goes where she goes. She’s been profiled, covered, revealed, reported. What she eats and what she wears and whom she knows and where she was, and when and where she’s going. Kate. You all know all about Kate.”
Her Royal Highness, Kate Middleton, is a beautiful and stylish woman. The daily released images and videos of her present a confident 36-year-old woman who exudes grace and glamour. Does she post hideous filtered selfies to a secret Snap chat account? I don’t know. I hope not.
She is young enough to be my own daughter and I find myself quickly logging into “What Kate Wore” each day for fashion inspiration. Her Royal Highness is noted for embracing fashions ranging from ready to wear to haute couture. She has lots of expensive shoes; I do a quick calculation in my head and know I won’t be following in her footwear path. I was inspired, however, to bring some shoes to one of Maine’s three or four cobblers for new heels.
Is there a royal cobbler?
Mostly, though, as I analyze the Duchess’s daily couture, I feel a sense of loss.
Once upon a time, average Americans could purchase fashionable and well-made clothing everywhere. Here is my lovely Aunt Dot in 1953, an average American:
The other day, my mother texted an invitation for an afternoon walk. She put on her coat and then donned a red beret. Sure, she was only wearing jeans and sneakers, but there was something lovely and graceful about her thoughtful addition of the beret. We walked around town and then we parted ways as I headed towards the post office. I looked back and watched her walking down School Street alone and I was struck by her still spry and womanly walk, likely a product of a long-ago indulgence in women’s magazines.
I do not know where my new sartorial interests will lead; they say the Duchess never wears orange. That won’t do for me, what with my closet full of orange attire. But I do find myself angling my gams into the Duchess Slant when I sit for long periods of time, like during last week’s day at the polls.
Duchess slant? Here is a picture that shows how easy it is.
I am trying to be a little more graceful as I age; there’s nothing wrong with that.