Let go and enjoy the Markle sparkle
Condemnation has begun in some quarters of women’s “princess fixation”. In other words, showing an interest in Prince Harry’s forthcoming marriage to Meghan Markle. This is to misunderstand the nature of our (for I include myself among those ready and willing to be cheered by the prospect of a little Markle sparkle being scattered across my drab life) interest entirely.
Number one
It’s a wedding. Of two people who seem to be wholly and unaffectedly in love, who we vaguely know and wish the best for, and whose actual ceremony we don’t have to attend. This is the best kind of wedding. If I could have watched all of my friends’ Special Days from the comfort of my sofa in my pyjamas, I would have been even better disposed towards their unions.
Number two
We do not wish to be princesses in any regressive sense. This is not about being passive and secretly wanting to be bossed about by the patriarchy, after all. It’s about wanting a holiday. And loads of money. And nice clothes. It’s a lottery win with a human face. Like all the best daydreams, it springs from purely mercenary, selfish instinct. Can’t we all just relax and let them – and me, my bunting and commemorative tea towel – be happy?