Manners & Misdemeanors

Meghan's Dress, Her Messy Bun, and Other Distractions From the Significance of the Royal Wedding

The wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle is more than the fulfillment of girlhood dreams, says the Truly Rich Lady.
ILLUSTRATOR SANDY ARANAS
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“Sshhhh!” I shushed Susan, who, with our gang of Truly Rich Ladies, was watching the event of the decade, the royal wedding of Prince Harry to Meghan Markle, in my state-of-the-art home theater.

In the darkness of the room, I felt like we were all old friends. And I don’t mean Susan, for she is a new addition whom we are still thinking of taking on permanently. I am referring, of course, to Red and Meg and Willy and Kat, the young members of the British royal family, whose lives I have been following closely since I discovered the Internet (just last year).

The journey to the most anticipated royal event of the year was about to reach its culmination, with all the lucky guests now seated in St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle and the bride and her mother Doria slowly making their way to the church in a vintage Rolls-Royce.

Watching it unfold in real time, I was filled with a swell of happy emotions. I thought this young woman was I, you, and all of us! She was just a regular gal, standing in front of a Truly Rich and Royal Prince, asking him to love her. All her dreams, which were my dreams, too, were about to come true.

This thread of boundless love was sewn into many details of the thoroughly modern affair, from the choice of readers and pastors, music and guests, veil and jewelry, and even the last-minute decision to have Prince Charles walk the bride down the aisle. If that is not an endorsement of love, I don’t know what is.

But then Susan, who is a Debbie (Downer), made another snarky remark when Meghan alighted from the car—with all the grace of an angel who was dressed in white with a five-meter-long veil—to finally reveal to the millions people around the world what she was wearing.

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“That’s it?” Susan huffed. “Jih-bon-tsi? Who’s that? My secret mananahi could do better than that basic sack. It doesn’t even fit well! 

Though I was peeved, I did not mind her, because my face was trapped under a nourishing SK-II Facial Treatment Mask that I had just put on. We continued watching, and I will not confirm or deny that tears rolled down the juicy mask every time Harry looked at Meghan with the eyes of someone who is head-over-heels and heart-over-crown in love. I want to know how that feels! Strange emotions were aflutter in my chest.

Then, when Harry lifted the veil to reveal Meghan’s face, a most important moment, in my opinion, Susan blurted out this nugget: “Look! Look at what Harry did! He messed up her hair! But why is her hair so easily disturbed? My girl from the parlor would have used Aqua Net to keep those tendrils down.”

Sensing my increasing irritation, Candy, my Truly Rich Cousin, took a big spoonful of strawberry trifle, one of the many things on the menu for the viewing party, and then delivered it right into Susan’s jabbering mouth.

“Suzy, isn’t this the best? I love trifle! Eat!” Candy said while giving me a wink.

“Ahnhd gha mayhgh-ughh. Ghorribeelgdhe!” Susan squeaked. (“And the make-up. Horrible!”)

“Yes? The trifle is nice, no?”

Mmmm...”

For a while, the trick worked. Occupied with trifle, a plate of scones and clotted cream, and honey butter potato crisps, Suzy, The Incessant Commenter, piped down for a while. But then Bishop Michael Curry arrived to rouse the spirits with an emphatic message about love.

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O-mey-ged! Why is there so much, uhm, urban flavor in the wedding of the British royals, who are white? No offense, but it’s just too much,” she said. “Look at their royal faces, Si-si! I feel as horrible as they do about the invasion of urban-ness!”

I have a small rosary in my pocket at all times, and in the middle of its ornate crucifix is a purple cabochon tourmaline that can be squeezed. I pressed it. I counted four seconds before my secretary came into the theater and then very politely asked Susan to depart.

“What is this?” Susan asked as her trifle, scones, potato crisps, and complimentary Labrador puppy were being taken away by the staff.

“Susan, you know where the door is,” I replied coolly. “My home theater is not built to accommodate negative vibes, which you have been spewing non-stop since Oprah arrived.” I waved my right hand toward the many empty seats in the room and said, “As you can see, there is no room for you here.”

“Si-si, are you nuts? Are you seriously taking all this royal wedding crap that has been running on a loop for a good part of the year to heart? You are not Meghan Markle, Si-si Coo. You are Asian and certainly not royal! In fact, I don’t even know what you are right now, because you look so weird with your Hannibal Lecter mask!”

These are the following things that I could have said in response:

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“Susan, your noisy jabbering makes for a horrible film-watching companion.”

“Susan, it’s jhee-von-SHEE.

“Susan, all brides are beautiful on their wedding day.”

“Susan, are you the one getting married to Prince Harry?”

“Susan, the proper thing to do when someone is getting married is to be happy for them—even if you are not happy for them.”

“Susan, if you are turned off by the royal family, why are you here at my Royal Wedding Viewing Party 2018?”

“Susan, I am not a British royal, but in this house and in this town, I am queen and law. Now, leave.”

“Susan, shaddup.”

As these thoughts swirled in my head, Susan and I were locked in battle of wills, staring at each other. Studying her one lazy eye, I could not fathom how someone did not discern the nuances of this marriage.

It is a courageous declaration to an uncertain world that there exists still a great number of people who embrace love without exception.

On the surface, yes, it is the stuff of fairytales: An ordinary girl meets and marries a prince! An ordinary girl grows up to become a duchess! An ordinary girl finds love!

But the wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle is more than the fulfillment of girlhood dreams. It is a courageous declaration to an uncertain world that there exists still a great number of people who embrace love without exception.

Do I have to remind Susan that Meghan is a non-royal, biracial, divorcee actress (who is not even British!), who has been accepted with open arms by the British royal family, a very exclusive group of people—the very definition of Truly Rich—who are set in their old ways?

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This thread of boundless love was sewn into many details of the thoroughly modern affair, from the choice of readers and pastors, music and guests, veil and jewelry, and even the last-minute decision to have Prince Charles walk the bride down the aisle. If that is not an endorsement of love, I don’t know what is.

But I guess Susan’s bias against joy, Suits, and redheads have made her blind to the greater significance of the moment. I chose to stay quiet.

Susan’s lazy eye eventually dropped toward the left side of her face. She left in a huff, but not before taking a doggy bag of trifle, and without saying a word. Rude! I just let it go. 

That day I learned many things: Naysayers are entitled to their wrong opinion, there exists feeling in my broken heart, Meghan has the most beautiful nose, I would like to try wearing a hat, and I really love the Internet.

Because of that dust-off with Susan, our gang of Truly Rich Ladies missed the rest of the live broadcast. No worries. My amazing secretary simply programmed the screen to YouTube and scrubbed the slider to where we had left off.

On a sunny day, with the whole world watching, the couple kissed.

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About The Author
C.C. Coo
The Truly Rich Lady
C.C. Coo—also known as Town&Country’s Truly Rich Lady—is not a professional seeker of leisure as many people wrongly assume, for she has a real-life occupation: a SHE-EO of Important (Sub)Company of an Empire, for which she works very hard to make sure that the people in her care are not left wanting. She believes that manners are utterly important: “If society is like one of those costume jewelry worn by Jackie O or Diana, it would be the glue that keeps the veneer of a most beautiful thing from falling apart,” she says.
View Other Articles From C.C.
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