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In 1981 the entire world was focused on the wedding of Prince Charles, heir to the British throne, and Lady Diana Spencer, a shy Earl's daughter suddenly thrust into the international media spotlight. I was a student in London, a young girl barely to concentrate on my studies because I was so enthralled with all the details of the royal wedding.
School was closed as the wedding day was declared a "bank holiday," and I left Oxford at 5 a.m. with three American friends, Nancy, Bill and Beth. We stood at the Admiralty Arch on the path of the wedding party full of wonder and excitement, and cheered and celebrated along with all the Brits. They were decked out in all manner of festive gear: hats, tiaras (not loaned to them by the Queen), flags and generally outlandish get-ups. I wore red, white and blue flowers in my hair. My friends had tri-folded hats made out of the British Flag.
After the procession passed, we "tucked" into a pub and watched the ceremony on the telly. We accepted the Moss Brothers department store's invitation to pop in for some Moet & Chandon, and then we made our way back to the mall to watch the return to Buckingham Palace. The new Princess of Wales was glowing, and her radiant presence more than made up the visible reserve of her groom.
I returned to Oxford that day utterly exhausted, but filled with belief in the fairy tale of love and happiness and what the Archbishop of Canterbury had said as Charles and Diana stood before him: "Here is the stuff of which fairy tales are made." I carried that tenet back to America, where in the three decades that followed I learned with the rest of the world that fairy tales don't always come true.
Fast-forward to 2010, when the engagement announcement of Prince William and an unknown commoner, Kate Middleton, was déjà vu of that wonderful summer. In 30 years, the world and the British monarchy had greatly changed: Princess Diana had died, Prince Charles had remarried, Prince Andrew had married and divorced, Prince Edward had gotten married, cell phones had become a new part of the human anatomy and I was supposed to have grown up.
Before I knew it, I was trying to locate Nancy, Beth and Bill to arrange a "Royal Wedding Reunion." I was only able to find Nancy, whom I'd kept in touch with sporadically over the years. She'd been at my own version of a fairy tale wedding, but sadly that union lasted just slightly longer than Charles' and Diana's.
So here we were, three decades later, in London at another royal wedding. We were older, sure, but still girls at heart. It's not often you get to do something so memorable again. We had mortgages back home this time, and responsibilities we never imagined in 1981 as our still-unknown futures lay before us. But it took no time to revel in the feelings of the past -- and to once again get caught up in the fairy tale.
Since we had not made the 1900-persons guest list, we scouted out places with potential view vantage. Westminster Abbey was besieged by those camping out in order to get the first glimpse of Kate's dress. Tents, blankets, sleeping bags and people of all ages, from crying babies to retirees (called pensioners in Great Britain) were crammed into the area.
We soon realized that even if we were able to deploy our tactical skills from before, these people were likely to get violent if you slipped in front of them after they'd endured the worst conditions for a seconds-only glimpse of the future princess. We did, however, get lucky enough to see Middleton and her family as they left the church from a last-minute rehearsal.
We checked out several sights while we gathered our wedding paraphernalia -- flags, crowns and periscopes -- but finally decided our best plan was an early departure on the tube to the Mall, where the wedding party would go to and from the Abbey.
The tube was busy and buzzing with excitement. Nancy asked a guy a question, and history seemed to repeat itself. Instead of Bill and Beth, we were now hooked up with Marcus and Verity, off to claim our spot in the hopes of seeing everything possible.
I have never attended a party with more than a million guests, but it seemed I was about to. You had to push and plod through throngs of people; it was much more congested than it had been in 1981.
We walked by Clarence House, where Prince William and Prince Harry would leave from -- but no sign of them. Continuing on through St. James Park, there were crowds everywhere. I looked for a woman I'd met outside my hotel the night before, pushing what she called a "Danish family bike." In American terms, it looked like a small covered wagon, but she assured me that four children were in there sleeping and she would pedal it the remaining 10 miles to St. James.
The four of us made our way along the park's edge, finally settling on a spot that was not quite as crowded. That's where we stood ... and stood. The spirit around us was amazing. It was if time had stopped. It wasn't just the Brits, either. We met so many Americans and more nationalities than I can remember. They were overjoyed and it wasn't all from champagne -- although it was flowing everywhere. A lively group of Cambridge residents who were thrilled with the titles given to William and Kate (Duke and Duchess of Cambridge) had even prepared a special wedding cake with a copy of Kate's engagement ring on top.
And then the procession started. A little girl seated on her dad's shoulders was our lookout She obviously had a high royal I.Q., as she knew who everyone was. She'd shout out "Charles," and all cameras would fly up and begin clicking. We could see through the periscope, but unless you made a fast dash to the front row, you had to rely on this little girl's word and your camera image.
As with everything magical, the royal wedding was soon over. We walked through the streets still elated, picking up discarded programs and flags, hugging and getting hugged by strangers.
Yes, things changed in 30 years: more people, a different cast, a genuine love between the new prince and princess. But things stayed the same too. For all the disconcerting remarks about the British monarchy, they truly reigned -- not on the throne, but in people's hearts, and in the heart of one American girl who lost track of time for another magical day.
Mario Testino, Clarence House Press Office / A.P.Bucking tradition in a regular family is tough enough, but when you're marrying the future king of England, you have to choose any departure from royal rituals very carefully.
All in all, Kate and William are not throwing custom out the window with their personal wedding choices. They'll have the traditional wedding fruitcake, but also a chocolate biscuit cake requested by William. They're getting married before noon, the traditional time slot, but instead of a wedding breakfast, they're having a canapé and champagne reception. They won't leave for their honeymoon the afternoon of the wedding like most royals do, but will stay for a "hip" evening party hosted by Prince Charles (though using the word "hip" in the same sentence as "Prince Charles" is quite a stretch.)
But William and Kate's engagement broke the oldest mandates of monarchy matches: Royals marry royals, or people connected to royals. Technically, to be a royal, you have to be directly connected to a titled Brit or royal family of another country. Prince Phillip, grandfather of William and husband of the Queen of England, is a descendant of Queen Victoria. Diana's father was the Earl of Spencer; thus, Diana was Lady Diana Spencer (she even had her own family tiara and didn't have to borrow one from the Queen). And Camilla, despite the less flattering names the Brits have called her, is the granddaughter of a Baron.
Kate Middleton is a true "commoner." She comes from a middle-class background whose ancestors were coal miners, not aristocrats. She'll be the first non-royal in centuries to marry a future king. Her mother and father operate an Internet children's party store, which even sells a "Princess Party Kit."
While most people know of Anne Boleyn as one of Henry the Eighth's short-term wives, she too was a commoner with no connections at all to nobility. King Edward left the throne to marry the American divorcee Wallis Simpson. In Britain, the Royal Marriages Act of 1772 mandates that all royal descendants who want to get married seek approval from the sitting monarch.
Obviously, the Queen approved of Will and Kate's marriage, which she said she's "delighted" about. She even finally, after eight years, invited the Middletons to Buckingham Palace for lunch.
William and Kate's wedding will be at Westminster Abbey, the location of most royal weddings. William's parents broke with tradition and got married at St. Paul's Cathedral due to the large guest list, but Charles and Camilla got married at the original royal wedding venue, the Chapel Royal at St. James Palace, because of the small guest list (or lack of RSVPs).
Kate and William made no unusual requests for changes in the actual ceremony. It's anticipated to be a traditional aristocratic wedding, and will follow standard decorum for weddings in the Abbey. The couple won't kiss at the end of the ceremony, Kate won't toss her bouquet into the throng of wannabe princesses outside the Abbey and don't expect to see Elton John at the piano with a microphone.
Speaking of Kate's bouquet, she'll leave it at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier inside the Abbey, a tradition started by William's great-grandmother Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon. What flowers will be in it is a royal secret, but she will have a sprig of myrtle, a tradition that began with Queen Victoria and which all royal brides, including Princess Diana, have followed since.
While the entire world anxiously waits to see Kate's wedding dress, one royal tradition she won't break with is the color. In the 16th century, Queen Victoria daringly bucked the tradition of royal brides wearing silver wedding gowns by appearing in a color considered shocking at the time: white. All royal English brides have followed suit ever since.
Royal wedding rings have been made from the same nugget of Welsh gold since 1923, and even though there's not much of it left, Kate's ring will be no exception. But scarce Welsh gold isn't the reason William won't have a ring -- he is following the royal tradition of men not wearing them (he's also said to have decided he's not the jewelry type). His father didn't wear a ring when he married his mother, but decided to change with the times and get one for his marriage to Camilla.
Perhaps the most admirable break from royal tradition is the couple's decision to replace gifts with donations to charity. Kate and Will compiled a list of 26 organizations for well-wishers to donate to in lieu of presents they don't need.
As for a wedding tradition all brides observe -- something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue -- who knows what Kate will do? You can bet, at least, that her tiara will be borrowed from the Queen and not from the Princess Party Kit sold by her parents.