Fashion’s Enduring Power: From Parisian Catwalks to Royal Wardrobes

The grand finale of fashion month has arrived, marking the conclusion of a whirlwind tour through the sartorial capitals of the world. The traditional quartet of New York, London, Milan, and Paris, presented in their customary order, has been joined this season by an unexpected yet deeply resonant addition: Rome. It was in the Eternal City that Valentino, the iconic house synonymous with opulent romance, staged a breathtaking show-cum-homage. This spectacular event served not only as a celebration of the brand’s enduring legacy but also as a poignant tribute to its late founder, Valentino Garavani, who passed away in January at the venerable age of 93.

The Valentino show was, by all accounts, a spectacle of pure fantasy, a testament to the enduring allure of extravagant beauty. Alessandro Michele, the current creative director, wholeheartedly embraced and amplified the frothy, frill-laden aesthetic that defined his illustrious predecessor. His collection was a masterclass in palazzo-appropriate grandeur, a luxurious gaze firmly fixed on the resplendent past. The very air in Rome seemed to shimmer with an almost tangible sense of nostalgia and unbridled creativity, a vibrant echo of a bygone era of sartorial splendor.

However, the fashion landscape this season has been far from monolithic. Alongside Valentino’s grand theatricality, other designers have presented starkly contrasting visions of contemporary luxury. Maria Grazia Chiuri, for instance, delivered a debut collection for Fendi that was a study in understated elegance. Her predominantly black ensemble, characterized by its absolute restraint, stood as the epitome of the "less is more" philosophy, embodying a rigorous and disciplined modernity. This stark departure from overt embellishment signaled a different kind of luxury, one rooted in impeccable craftsmanship and refined silhouettes, offering a counterpoint to the more flamboyant expressions seen elsewhere.

These divergent aesthetics – the opulent romanticism of Valentino and the minimalist chic of Chiuri’s Fendi, replicated to varying degrees across the month’s shows – have unexpectedly converged in my mind with the profound insights offered by Justine Picardie’s compelling new book, Fashioning the Crown: A Story of Power, Conflict and Couture (Faber). Picardie’s work delves into the intricate relationship between clothing and royalty, arguing persuasively that fashion is far from a mere superficiality. Instead, it serves as a potent tool for communication, influence, and the very construction of identity.

Fashioning the Crown offers a fascinating riposte to any who might dismiss clothing as an unnecessary extravagance. Through the lens of meticulously researched wardrobes, Picardie chronicles the dramatic story of the British Royal Family during the tumultuous first decades of the 20th century, culminating in the iconic coronation of Elizabeth II in 1953. These were not times of serene predictability; they were fraught with political upheaval and societal shifts that profoundly impacted the monarchy’s image and its very survival.

The period leading up to World War I was particularly challenging for the Windsors. The family, still bearing the Germanic name Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, faced rising anti-German sentiment in Britain, a stark reminder of their lineage. The subsequent rebranding to "Windsor" offered a more palatable national identity, yet the shadow of the abdication of Edward VIII, a king who controversially sympathized with the Nazi regime, loomed large as World War II approached. In navigating these treacherous waters, the clothing choices – and sometimes, the deliberate lack thereof – of the Royal Family played a crucial, albeit often understated, role in shaping public perception and reinforcing their position.

The power of sartorial diplomacy continues to be a vital component of the Royal Family’s toolkit. Currently, the Princess of Wales’s carefully cultivated image of sartorial serenity is proving instrumental in helping the family weather the instability surrounding the Prince Andrew scandal. While Catherine herself has expressed a desire to shift focus from her attire to her actions, stating that her office would no longer disclose details of her outfits, the two remain inextricably, and perhaps intentionally, interwoven. Her public persona is, in essence, her image, meticulously crafted and powerfully communicated through her wardrobe.

As Picardie eloquently explained in a recent conversation, "The soft power of monarchy is always expressed through visual iconography, jewels and clothing. For the key figures in the House of Windsor to navigate this latest crisis, they need to be as fluent in the language of fashion as their forebears. Given that they are not supposed to speak their minds, it’s their wardrobe that does the talking." This sentiment underscores the critical role that fashion plays in a non-elected head of state’s ability to connect with and influence their populace.

The delicate balancing act for a modern "queen-in-waiting" like Catherine is to project an image that is simultaneously approachable and aspirational. Picardie highlights this challenge, noting that Catherine must strive to appear "more democratic and sympathetic" while also retaining an essential element of "mystery," a concept famously articulated by Walter Bagehot in his seminal 1867 work, The English Constitution. Bagehot famously advised, "We must not let in daylight upon magic," a principle that the monarchy has long sought to uphold. However, recent events have cast an unwelcome spotlight on the institution, suggesting that too much "daylight," and indeed, too much "darkness," has permeated the royal mystique.

Picardie’s analysis is particularly insightful when examining another significant period of royal crisis: the years surrounding Edward VIII’s abdication in 1936. Through his subsequent marriage to Wallis Simpson, two profoundly contrasting aesthetics clashed, with ramifications that extended far beyond the realm of fashion, touching upon the very fabric of global politics.

In the late 1930s, the world order was in a state of profound flux. The potential consequences of Edward VIII being allowed to marry Wallis Simpson and remain King were immense, a fact acknowledged by figures as disparate as the Nazi diplomat Joachim von Ribbentrop and Oswald Mosley, the leader of the British Union of Fascists, both of whom expressed dismay at his abdication. This historical footnote highlights the precarious geopolitical landscape and the sensitive nature of royal alliances.

Wallis Simpson, rebranded alongside her Duke as the Duchess of Windsor, embodied a style that was undeniably contemporary and forward-facing. Her "hard chic," championed by designers like Schiaparelli and Mainbocher, was a powerful statement of modern sophistication. Yet, beneath this veneer of undeniable chic lay deeply questionable political allegiances. The couple were avowed supporters of the Nazi regime, a regime that itself presented an image of modernity and progress, albeit one cloaked in insidious ideology. This juxtaposition of cutting-edge fashion with dangerous political sympathies created a potent and unsettling visual paradox.

In a masterstroke of symbolic counter-narrative, the man who had never anticipated ascending to the throne, George VI, strategically guided his wife, the woman still affectionately known to Britons as Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, to embrace an aesthetic diametrically opposed to that of the Duchess of Windsor. Her wardrobe was designed to evoke the idyllic, almost ethereal beauty of the past, a deliberate contrast to the sharp, modern lines favored by Wallis Simpson.

This strategic sartorial pivot is vividly illustrated by a pivotal moment in 1937. When the renowned fashion designer Norman Hartnell was summoned to Buckingham Palace, King George VI subtly steered him towards the works of the 19th-century German painter Franz Xaver Winterhalter. The King, in his characteristically understated manner, conveyed his wish for Hartnell to capture the "picturesque grace" of these idealized royal portraits in the dresses he would design for the Queen. Hartnell himself recalled this encounter in his autobiography, detailing the King’s quiet but firm direction.

Picardie rightly identifies this as a "masterstroke – a superb visual riposte to the angular modernism embodied by Wallis Simpson." The zenith of this strategy was arguably reached with the all-white ensemble designed by Hartnell for the Queen Mother’s royal tour of France a year later. Donning this confection, described by some as a 20th-century Titania, for a garden party in the Bois de Boulogne, the Queen Mother presented an image of almost fairy-tale innocence and grace. This marshmallow-soft gown served as a potent visual counterpoint to the steel-edged semiotics of Nazism, offering a vision of gentle strength and enduring tradition.

The legacy of this approach continued as Hartnell, and later Hardy Amies, were instrumental in crafting a similar fairy-tale image for the young Princess Elizabeth. At that time, much like Catherine today, she was a queen in waiting, her future role requiring a carefully constructed public persona.

The echoes of this historical precedent are palpable in contemporary royal fashion. In September, the Princess of Wales captivated observers at a state banquet at Windsor Castle when she wore a breathtaking gold Chantilly lace creation by Phillipa Lepley. The ensemble, accessorized with the weighty Lover’s Knot tiara, was a vision of transcendent elegance. She appeared both ethereal and, crucially, insurmountable – a powerful image of royal gravitas. This moment was undoubtedly one of the most significant sartorial triumphs of her royal career, and it is worth noting that this display of opulence and grandeur was, by its very nature, a far cry from the concept of "democratic" fashion.

Justine Picardie’s Fashioning the Crown serves as a profound reminder that clothing is far more than mere adornment; it is a potent form of soft power. The opulent, palazzo-inspired fashion showcased by Valentino in Rome, while undoubtedly beautiful and evocative, ultimately fades in significance when juxtaposed with the carefully orchestrated "palace fashion" of our own royals. Their sartorial choices have not only shaped their past but are also integral to forging their future, a continuous dialogue between tradition, modernity, and the enduring mystique of monarchy. The runway may offer fleeting fantasies, but the royal wardrobe crafts a lasting narrative.