Was a Royal Wedding a bigger deal when we were kids because we weren’t constantly bombarded by pretend pink princesses?

Flashback:
In the pre-dawn darkness of July 29th, 1981, a little girl is snuggled up with her mom in front of the television.  With her sleep-crusted starry eyes she gazes at the screen illuminating a colorful scene ripped right out of one of her classic fairy tale books. A commoner, a young Lady still in her teens, is about become a Princess.

The bride wears a voluminous white silk gown with an unbelievable 25-foot-long train and a tiara twinkling with real diamonds, a perfect representation of every little girl’s fantasy.  Crowds cry and cheer as she rides in a horse-drawn carriage through the streets of London to her date with destiny.  She slowly, bashfully steps down the isle of an ancient church festooned with flowers to meet her Prince and exchange the vows that will transform her life.

The little girl has been collecting magazine and newspaper clippings about the the story unfolding before her for nearly a year, carefully taping each photo and article in a spiral bound notebook to cherish forever.  In the coming years she will add stories of the Royal couple’s glamorous vacations, articles celebrating the births of the two handsome little Princes, and endless photos of the Princess’s stunning and stylish dresses.    It is her very own Princess Diary, her chronicle of the making of a Princess and the extraordinary life that followed.  Luckily, the girl had outgrown this hobby when the beautiful facade began crumbling and the bitter reality of being a Princess was brought to light.  Years later, she still cried on that warm August night when she learned her Princess was gone.

Once upon a time there was a beautiful young Lady, and her name was Diana….

Last Week:

A little boy creeps through the darkness and snuggles up on the couch with his Mummy.  He has been complaining about the ceaseless press coverage of the upcoming royal wedding, attempting to change the channel and chiding “who cares!” each time the couple graces the screen.  Throughout his short life he has been overwhelmed by the constant onslaught of Pepto Bismol-colored Disney princesses covering every little girl product imaginable.   He wants nothing to do with anything princess.

But now he watches the wedding as if in a trance.  He is awed by the wooded wonderland beneath the soaring Gothic vaulted ceiling of Westminster Abby.  He thinks the Prince looks dashing in his dress uniform and coos over the bride’s beauty.  His mouth drops when they depart in the horse drawn carriage surrounded by red-coated livery and adoring fans. “I didn’t know it could be real…”
   

He disappears for a moment and I think I have lost him.  He returns to my side with a full regiment of Lego Star Wars figures (including an honorable Princess Leia) and stands them at attention facing the television. He has created a modern boy’s salute to the new Royal couple. 

I don’t know how many little girls woke early to watch the royal pomp and pageantry.    Most girls I know are not even aware there are real Princesses (or Duchesses) but they can tell you every last detail of each contrived Disney versions.   They have the dvds, dresses, shoes, dolls, and plastic castles to prove their devotion.  They are a marketer’s dream come true.

Thanks, but I’ll take the real thing…