In the colors of the rainbow she flew a flag for reliable, nonchalant cheerfulness. Every day, she doubled up on a color, wearing it head to toe. He wore yellow, red, pink, purple, blue or green. (She was always the diplomat, so we’ll never know what her favorite was. I always thought she looked especially beautiful in buttercup yellow, which wasn’t easy to pull off.) A simple knee-length coat over a dress in the same color or a coordinating floral pattern and paired with a hat. Neutral accessories: a bag hanging from her left wrist, gloves and heels. A pin on her left lapel and a triple pearl around her neck. “Every day, she doubled up on a color, wearing it head to toe” … Royal Ascot in 2018. Photo: Max Mumby/Indigo/Getty Images A photograph of the Queen from May 1977, taken during her silver jubilee tour, shows her in a duck egg blue coat with self-covered buttons, with dress and coat to match. The coat’s wide lapels show a glimpse of the pearls around her neck, and her white gloves match her handbag. Another photo, taken 42 years later at the February 2019 centenary celebrations for GCHQ, shows her in an almost identical outfit. The coat is a bolder blue, the hat more angular, the gloves and bag now black rather than white, but these are minor details. It’s essentially the same outfit. It hits the same spot on the knee, has the same clean silhouette. This remarkable constancy, which the couturier Sir Norman Hartnell called “understated elegance”, has defined the Queen’s wardrobe. With her ceremonial bright outfits and sharply tailored lines, the Queen has been described as the ultimate hairdresser. But this does not do justice to the spirit in which he clothed himself. There was a generosity and warmth to a wardrobe that helped us all feel like we knew her. Her clothes were chosen not for how flattering they looked in her mirror but for how well they spoke to the rest of us. Attending state functions and gala openings, walking to church or in her box at Ascot, the Queen was as recognizable to us as to members of our own family. You didn’t even need to see her face to tell her apart in an instant. The understated but sturdy figure. the color, solid and bright like a Cluedo piece in Mrs Peacock purple or Colonel Mustard yellow. (When it rained, her umbrella was transparent.) She became part of the common people’s landscape, as familiar as a picture of a grandparent on a windowpane. Most of us have never gotten invited to a garden party, but the way she dressed made us feel familiar. It was a steady, unshakable landmark that helped us follow a steady course, like the point a ballerina focuses on to keep her balance in a pirouette. The Queen arrives in Kuwait during a tour of the Gulf countries in February 1979. Photo: Anwar Hussein/Getty Images Monarchs throughout history have used clothing to impress their subjects with their wealth and status. Think of Henry VIII, shoulders stocked like a Tudor linebacker. or Louis XIV of France with red high heels and white ermine. The queen knew how to turn on the firepower when the occasion called for it. It took 350 women seven weeks to embroider 10,000 pearls into flowers on her stunning 1947 wedding dress. The annual State Opening of Parliament saw her in a white fur stole, white gloves and her diamond tiara, a magical, white Narnia contrast to the red in the blood parliamentary robes around her. But the look most of us will remember the Queen for is not her lavish dress fashion, but her everyday coats and dresses with their bright lipsticks. The Queen, then Princess Elizabeth, walks down the aisle at Westminster Abbey with Prince Philip at their wedding in 1947. Photo: Bettmann/Bettmann Archive “The Queen and the Queen Mother don’t want to be fashion directors,” Hartnell once said. “That’s left to other people with less important work to do.” But he had an eye. To spend 70 years in public without once making a fashion faux pas – never forgetting to smooth the coat before sitting down to avoid creasing, never once knocking the brim of the hat askew – confirms a strong visual sense and a keen eye for detail. I was once told, by someone who knew someone who knew such things, that the Duchess of Cambridge had stopped wearing her once-favorite wedge heels because the Queen considered them inelegant. I can’t vouch for the truth of this, but I like to believe it. (I tend to agree.) The State Opening of Parliament in November 1998. Photo: Anwar Hussein/Getty Images The Queen’s most famous quote about her image is her claim that it “has to be seen to be believed”. They say your brand is defined by what a person sees if they close their eyes and hear your name and the image that comes to mind of the Queen – rejoicing in bright colours, her regal diamonds and pearls offset by the highly practical bag and shoes – sums up what she stood for. Instead of taking traditional respect for the monarchy for granted, he earned the public’s respect through hard work. Long before resilience became a buzzword during the pandemic, she was shaping what resilience looked like with her trusty rainbow-hued wardrobe. He appeared, as the young people say. Her clothes were never the main event, but it was music with a steady mood that set a certain tone. Practical elements supported the royal wardrobe. The Queen’s “work shoes,” as she called them, were low-heeled patent leather by Anello & Davide, a style she wore for half a century. Stewart Parvin, one of the royal couturiers, once confirmed to the Telegraph that when a new pair arrived, a Buckingham Palace employee would take on the job of pacing the long corridors in the shoes and a pair of cotton ankle socks to break them in. . inside so the Queen doesn’t get blisters. A basic perk, sure – but certainly different from a valet putting toothpaste on their toothbrush. As Parvin put it: “The Queen can never say, ‘I feel uncomfortable, I can’t walk any more.’ There were times, too, when matters of state entered into the dressmaker’s administrative care. The silk for her wedding dress had to be imported from China, Italian silk being deemed unsuitable so soon after the end of World War II, for an occasion that Time magazine called the first great post-war Allies celebration. Carrying her transparent umbrella in Lancaster in May 2015. Photo: Getty Images There were moments of frivolity, humor and maybe even mischief. In contrast to the simplicity of her clothes, she had a penchant for theatrics. The 1960s and 1970s were the hallmark of her most fabulous hats, with draped silk turbans, feather cloches, fox fur Cossack hats and floral swim cap styles. Her headdress was full of personality. In 1960, for her sister’s wedding, she teamed her turquoise dress and bolero with a hat in the same shade as two large silk roses – a reference to Princess Margaret Rose’s middle name. And while she’s tended not to associate herself with flashy designer names, she made an exception for her off-duty designer silk scarves. All these came from Hermes. Wearing a pin given to him by Barack Obama, during the US president’s state visit in 2011. Photo: Rex/Shutterstock We will never know, now, the truth behind what the internet has dubbed the ‘pin war’. When then US President Donald Trump met the Queen in 2018, she chose to wear a small moss agate brooch. It was a low-key choice, perhaps chosen simply to highlight the green leaves printed on her dress, but eagle-eyed observers noticed that it was a piece gifted to her by Barack Obama. The choice was seized upon as evidence that the Queen is subtly trolling the new president by undermining the friendship with his predecessor. That those who want to believe it can choose to do so, and those who wish to insist that it’s a coincidence can take the opposite view, is perhaps the ultimate mediation of fashion conventions. Nevertheless, I can’t resist a single word in support of the theory that the Queen was Team Obama. Michelle Obama recalled being touched by the Queen wearing the pin at the last dinner of the state visit when it was given to her and her husband. “In the grandeur of that outfit she was wearing, she wore the little pin we gave her,” he recalled. “That was my experience … That kind of warmth and kindness, and wit and intelligence.” I met the Queen once. To say “met” might be overstating it, but I attended a reception at Buckingham Palace for the British fashion industry and during the evening it was my turn to be among a group of guests to be introduced to the Queen. We were in the photo gallery and, realizing that it would be inappropriate to comment on her outfit as it would be at typical cocktail party fashion, I complimented her on a Rembrandt I admired. “That’s my favorite too,” came the reply. I include this not to flatter myself that I am soul mates with the Queen, but because I expect any painting I singled out would say so. He had a way of reaching out to connect with people, without ever coming down to earth. This gift defined her wardrobe. I didn’t say it that night, but he was a style icon like no other.
