As Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor was taken into police custody last week, his brother King Charles made a “surprise” appearance on the front row at the opening of London fashion week. Styled in one of his staple jaunty ties, clashing pocket handkerchief and British-made suit, it sent the message loud and clear: this was business as usual.
That message persisted when, at the Baftas at the weekend, the Prince and Princess of Wales showed a united front in coordinated burgundy velvet (“Pantone diplomacy”, as the New York Times put it). Catherine’s blush Gucci gown showed not just solidarity in hue but also, arguably, signalled her ethics in a week when the royal family’s came under fire: she’d worn the dress before, on a previous outing.
“The king’s whole look – with his British bespoke tailored suit – might be construed as putting on a brave face, and keeping calm and carrying on during yet another existential crisis,” says Justine Picardie, former editor-in-chief of Harper’s Bazaar UK and author of a new book, Fashioning the Crown: A Story of Power, Conflict and Couture. “For Catherine, it is another expression of her taking a sustainable approach, and showing restraint, rather than excess.”
The house of Windsor has long wielded fashion as a weapon during times of crisis, says Picardie, pointing out the “similar tactics used after the crisis of the abdication in 1936, when Queen Elizabeth (the Queen Mother) was dressed by Norman Hartnell in an idealised vision of traditional Englishness, to counteract the hard chic of the pro-Nazi Duke and Duchess of Windsor.”
“Clothes are used to express power and many other things – emotion, vulnerability, grief, birth, death, loss … whether it’s a wedding dress or at a funeral.” But what Picardie, who previously documented the hidden histories of Chanel and Dior, hadn’t been aware of until researching this book was “dress diplomacy”.
On tours and official occasions, the royal family often deploys fashion as a tool of soft power. Take the Princess of Wales attending a state reception in New Zealand wearing a black Jenny Packham dress embellished with silver fern leaves – a New Zealand national emblem. At a Commonwealth Day service at Westminster Abbey last year she wore head-to-toe unsubtle Canadian red, and she never misses a chance to wear clover-green when visiting Ireland. Princess Diana chose a dress dotted with red circles, in visual symmetry with the Japanese flag, while on tour in the country in 1986. In Saudi Arabia, she wore a dress emblazoned with gold falcons, an emblem of the nation.
Picardie’s book notes examples from Queen Elizabeth II’s playbook too. From hats bedecked dramatically with ostrich plumes for official visits to South Africa to her wartime, make do and mend-inspired habit of wearing outfits multiple times, Elizabeth grasped “the sartorial art of royalty, and the ways in which visual iconography could safeguard the sovereign”.
In later years, Elizabeth II’s outfit choices, which moved from pastels to primary colours, were widely scrutinised for covert political messaging. When she wore a blue and yellow hat for the state opening of parliament in 2017, with Brexit at the top of the agenda, some argued it was reminiscent of the EU flag. Although the palace denied there was any message, Picardie says “for somebody who’s been trained in the art of sartorial codes, it is plausible that she knew”. Royal watchers also ruminated over the meaning of the queen’s brooches, most memorably when she selected to wear one given to her by the Obamas during a Trump state visit to the UK.
The laboured thought processes behind such dressing decisions is all the more plausible given the queen was clearly much more at ease in very different attire. Picardie met her several times – as her second husband, Philip Astor, was Prince Philip’s godson – including at Balmoral, where she seemed very much at home wearing “traditional Scottish country clothes – a tartan skirt, a tweed jacket”. On one occasion, Picardie plucked up the courage to asked her about Hardy Amies, one of her favoured designers, who was rumoured to have had a role as a senior intelligence officer during the second world war. The queen responded: “Of course, it was excellent cover for a spy, to be a couturier.” Picardie was astonished: “In general, she was so enigmatic, so discreet, so guarded … it was very interesting that it took that subject for her to slightly open up, which is a combination of war, jeopardy and the man she chose to design for her.”
Royal dressing can be overtly political, too: Picardie notes an example from 1947 when, in the aftermath of the second world war, then prime minister Clement Attlee expressed his concern over whether the silk for Princess Elizabeth’s wedding dress had been produced by Japanese or Italian silk worms. Thankfully, the fabric was made in China.
Even when the royals aren’t trying to draw attention to their style, it still feels impossible to ignore. A year ago, Kensington Palace announced the Princess of Wales would no longer release details of her wardrobe, as she wanted the focus to be on her chosen causes rather than clothes. But she recently worked with Johnstons of Elgin to design a tartan-like fabric, showing her support for British textiles and design – so whether she releases details of what she is wearing or not, there is meaning behind her choices.
Picardie says Catherine is still “the most valuable ambassador for British fashion” and praises her focus on recycled outfits and sustainability. “Last year, at the state banquet at Windsor Castle for Trump, she wore a gold Phillipa Lepley lace gown. A female designer, British dressmaker, British textiles – that was absolutely spot on.” On a visit earlier this month to a textile mill in Wales that produces blankets and throws, she wore a vintage Welsh wool coat.
For more evidence that royal dressing is as an important tool rather than an after thought, there are the Duchess of Sussex’s comments about the liberation she felt once freed from its limitations. Now, of course, Meghan “can wear whatever she wants, because she’s not a working royal”, says Picardie. Since leaving behind her official role – she and Prince Harry kept their titles – the duchess has spoken of the inauthenticity she felt having to adhere to royal protocol and being forced to wear “nude pantyhose”.
As for Mountbatten-Windsor, aside from losing his title and military role, “it is the ultimate stripping off to have his uniform taken away”, says Picardie, leaving him with the sports casual off-duty look he’s seen wearing in his appearances in Epstein’s photo album.
From those who remain in the house of Windsor, at a time when it is perhaps hanging by a thread, expect further coded messages through clothing.