On Apr. 29, 2011, Catherine
Middleton floated out of a retired
Rolls-Royce Phantom VI parked
directly in front of the main
entrance of London’s Westminster
Abbey. The morning wind caught
her delicate veil as she rose to
stand on the red carpet laid before
her. Gracefully, she switched the
hand holding her spring bouquet to
adjust the flying lace. As she stood
poised for her royal entrance, her
sister calmly adjusted the dress’s
seven-foot train. Crowds roared in
response to the scene and the BBC
announcers literally squealed. This
wasn’t just the wedding of a future
king — it was the launch of Britain’s
21st-century monarchy.
She entered the church at 11
a.m., the sun barely offset from
the top of the sky. In my California
hometown, however, it was three
in the morning. The
sun hid quietly on
the other side of the
world and the night air
rested silently in my
backyard, but my TV
whirred as it broadcast
the event live from my
family’s living room.
I was certainly not
the only preteen girl
to pull an all-nighter
that day in an effort to
watch the Cambridge
couple say “I do,”
but
nevertheless,
popularity does not
diminish
impact.
The new Duchess’s
dress made my young
heart melt. The layers of satin and
lace and British poise composed a
smooth cocktail of perfection that
launched my continuing love for the
Duchess of Cambridge.
Two years later, Kate and Will
stepped out of St. Mary’s hospital
with
newborn
Prince
George
wrapped in a delicate white cloth.
Kate wore a blue polka-dotted dress
and the world applauded her for
not trying to hide her postpartum
body … but also wearing heels.
Even through the small screen
of a YouTube video, her mellow
smile
and
long-fingered
wave
encapsulated the timeless elegance
of the monarchy’s newest mother. I
was hooked.
I could go on. Her long winter
coats on Christmas mornings. Her
gowns at BAFTA awards and state
dinners. Her sundresses on summer
afternoons spent watching Will
play polo (which is just about the
most British phrase I’ll ever write).
Her hats (actually, this one might be
more British). Kate’s fashion is no
doubt the strongest influence on my
own wardrobe to this day, but not
just for her clean lines of buttons,
pleated skirts and sensible heels.
Through it all, her character
shines through as a thoughtful
mother and future queen. Her style
is not avant-garde, but her activism
is. She wears elegant coat-dresses
while delivering poised speeches
on mental health advocacy. She
dons timeless evening gowns while
pledging support for children’s
physical education and classic
blazers when promoting outdoor
education. In essence, she is a
picture of traditional beauty and a
promoter of new causes.
As my teenage mind formed this
appreciation, however, I did not
realize that Kate was not actually
operating on her own. I did not
recognize that her style was not
completely hers, and her support
for the underdog was not original.
From the moment that her wedding
veil caught the morning wind at
Westminster Abbey, her existence
fell under a melancholic cloud of
royal legacy.
I was not alive when Princess
Diana died. I was born almost
exactly a year after the fatal car
crash that took her life in 1997 —
still comfortably within the final
decade of the 20th century but far
enough toward the end to leave me
questioning where I belong. There
are many events that I’m told ended
the ’90s — the loss of Princess Diana
seems to be one of them. In my
retroactive learning of her impact
on England and the world, I see
Kate’s story in a brand new light.
The two women share far more
than an engagement ring.
Across the internet, fans place
the two princess’s wedding attire
side-by-side, pointing to similarities
in their ivory color scheme and
exaggerated dress trains. They
talk about both couples’ use of a
carriage after the ceremony and
their equally iconic Buckingham
Palace balcony kisses. After the
birth of Prince George, the world
spent weeks ogling the fact that
both women had left the hospital
in polka dots after their first born
child. When Kate pulled on a red
dress after welcoming her youngest
child, fans lost their minds at the
similarities to Diana’s reveal of Prince
Harry in 1984.
People point to gold accents on
evening gowns and similar hat
shapes at garden parties. They
find
shared
fabric
styles
and
color
schemes.
Sometimes
the
connections feel exaggerated, but
the basis of them is not; Kate’s style
is clearly influenced by Diana’s,
and the world clearly loves it.
This, of course, only encourages
the Cambridge team to continue
working under these influences, in
and out of wardrobe.
Princess Diana was the first royal
to act as a non-royal mother. She
took her kids to amusement parks
and rode with them down the log
flumes. Kate’s work with children
today promotes those
same values: love and
nurturing.
Princess
Diana was the first
British royal to touch an
AIDS patient without
gloves. She showed the
world how to separate
fear of an illness from
fear of a person. Today,
Kate visits hospitals
and shelters to support
those same values. She
is a princess fulfilling
the legacy of a woman
whose potential was
cut short. She is the
re-launch of a show
that
was
tragically
cancelled
and
the
sequel to a movie with a vicious
cliffhanger.
At the same time, I can’t help but
wonder what this must feel like to
her. Kate never met Diana, and yet
the world often sees the two women
as one. Does she enjoy the legacy, or
does she ache for a moment that is
entirely her own? I see myself in
this question, too. Born in 1998, at
the tail end of such a celebrated
decade, I don’t know how to classify
myself. Do I call myself a ’90s
child — do I associate myself with
President Bill Clinton and MTV
and do I take Cher’s “Clueless”
yellow suit as my own? Or do I
learn about those years through the
backward method of legacy as I did
with Kate’s mother-in-law? What
belongs to me, and what belongs to
my predecessors? Frankly, I don’t
have an answer. All I know is I find
comfort in the fact that maybe, just
maybe, this predicament makes me
more similar to Catherine, Duchess
of Cambridge.
Tracking the British royal
influence in reverse order
ENTERTAINMENT TONIGHT
ZOE PHILLIPS
Senior Arts Editor
B-SIDE: STYLE
B-SIDE: STYLE
FLICKR
Who
could
forget
high
school?
The
most
glorious
four years of any teen’s life,
right? Full of perfectly tailored
clothes, raging parties with
choreographed dance numbers
and the happiest endings to any
and all love stories … Wait, is
that not what your high school
experience was like? Because
all the high school romantic
comedies of the ’90s sure set
up those expectations for their
teen viewers.
In case you didn’t
realize, high school
isn’t exactly what
these films say it’s
like.
There
aren’t
really
jerks
that
turn over a new leaf
once they fall head
over heels in love
with the first girl
who rebuffs them.
There aren’t perfect
proms where Usher
(yes, Usher) is the
DJ. There aren’t bets
to see if someone
can make someone
else fall in love with
them.
And
there
certainly isn’t valet
everywhere you go.
But,
for
some
reason, all of the
high school movie
staples
like
“10
Things
I
Hate
About You,” “She’s
All
That”
and
“Clueless” have all
of these unrealistic
archetypes.
Each
character fits into
one of these tropes;
each movie has the
mean Prom Queen,
like Taylor Vaughan
(Jodi Lyn O’Keefe,
“She’s
All
That”),
or the Lovable Brat,
like Cher Horowitz
(Alicia
Silverstone,
“Clueless”)
and
Bianca
Stratford
(Larisa
Oleynik,
“10 Things I Hate
About You”), or the Innocent
Virgin, like Annette Hargrove
(Reese Witherspoon, “Cruel
Intentions”) and of course the
Benevolent Jock, like Zack
Siler (Freddie Prinze Jr., “She’s
All That”). Maybe you knew
people like the Rich Asshole,
like Joey Donner (Andrew
Keegan, “10 Things I Hate
About You”), or the Outcast,
like Laney Boggs (Rachael
Leigh Cook, “She’s All That”)
or Kat Stratford (Julia Stiles,
“10 Things I Hate About You”),
but most of these tropes aren’t
reflective of people you see
in real life. And don’t forget
the Token Black Friend, with
countless examples throughout
’90s teen movies, like Preston
(Dulé Hill, “She’s All That”)
or Chastity (Gabrielle Union,
“10 Things I Hate About You”).
People are placed into simple
categories that make them one-
dimensional. Many of these
characters are reduced to one or
two main character traits that
define their entire personality
like their wealth, their race or
even their sexuality in the case
of Christian Stovitz (Justin
Walker,
“Clueless”),
who
quickly becomes Cher’s Gay
Best Friend … after she stops
trying to seduce him.
Along
with
these
archetypes, there are token
themes and moments in all of
these movies, ranging from
‘The Iconic Makeover’ to ‘The
Heartbreaking
Bet
Reveal
Scene’ to ‘The More Than A
Little Disturbing Step Sibling
Relationship’ (we’re looking at
you, “Cruel Intentions”). While
they might be entertaining
to watch, they’re not exactly
realistic. We don’t know about
you, but things were much
tamer in our high schools.
And
while
these
scenes
and characters are so lovable
onscreen, to say they haven’t
aged well is an understatement.
We’re primarily talking about
the ‘Bet’ trope. While we will
always love Patrick Verona
(Heath Ledger, “The Dark
Knight”) and his rendition of
“Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,”
we can’t quite condone his
behavior in 2020. He and Kat
may be a perfect couple to us,
but the fact that he accepted
a deal to try to get her to date
him doesn’t reflect very well on
his character. It may have been
seen differently in the ’90s,
especially considering the fact
that “10 Things I Hate About
You” was not the only film to
feature a bet (see: “She’s All
That” and “Cruel Intentions”),
but 30 years later, it’s not okay
anymore.
Still, you can’t deny the
talent
that
graced
screens
in the ’90s. Some stars in
’90s movies made their way
because of their status as ’90s
staples. Sarah Michelle Geller
(“Cruel Intentions”) was a
big pull for creepy ’90s teen
movies because of her role as
Buffy in “Buffy the Vampire
Slayer,” and Melissa Joan Hart
(“Sabrina the Teenage Witch”)
landed teen movies like “Drive
Me Crazy” because of her TV
fame. Prinze Jr. had a string of
teen movies before “She’s All
That,” which he is probably best
known for. Silverstone went on
to play Batgirl in “Batman &
Robin” after “Clueless,” and
Union followed up her stint on
“She’s All That” with similar
roles in “10 Things” and “Bring
It On” in 2000 and beyond.
Some of these actors’ legacies
extended far beyond the ’90s.
Paul Rudd (who, miraculously,
looks the same as he did in
1995) has won over hearts for
25 years, whether by fighting in
the Marvel Cinematic Universe as
“Ant-Man,” playing the recurring
character
Bobby
Newport
in
“Parks and Rec” or
being
nominated
for a Golden Globe
for
“Living
With
Yourself.”
Joseph
Gordon-Levitt
has
taken his adorable
charm
to
films
like
“(500)
Days
of
Summer”
and
even
starred
in
“Snowden,” playing
a version of Edward
Snowden that was
far too likable to be
truly realistic. Heath
Ledger went on to act
in more sophisticated
films like “Brokeback
Mountain” and even
won an Oscar for his
portrayal of the Joker
in “The Dark Knight,”
which was received
posthumously
after
his
tragic
overdose. And let’s
take a moment to
acknowledge Reese
Witherspoon,
who
quickly rose to fame
after her role as
innocent Annette in
“Cruel
Intentions”
and is now one of the
highest paid actresses
in the world, with an
Oscar and countless
major
films.
It’s
incredible
to
look
back at these films
and realize the talent
that
was
lurking
beneath
layers
of
baggy clothes and
heavy eyeliner.
Teen movies in the ’90s were
essential to the era, setting
the
tone
through
vibrant
colors, playful plots and iconic
characters. Most importantly,
their
reach
has
extended
beyond the ’90s into our own
generation as cult films and
slumber
party
staples.
We
aren’t here to judge your love
of these movies; in fact, we love
them all just as much as anyone.
There’s something about the
cheesy plots and goofy lines,
something
charming
and
timeless, that has appealed to
audiences for 30 years. Just
remember as you’re watching
these films that you’ve entered
a new kind of high school
experience,
a
fantasy
land
where teachers don’t assign
homework if you couple them
up and red solo cup parties in
mansions never end with any
real consequences. It’s a place
where you can find your one
true love in high school, as
long as you take your glasses
off first. But still, if you ever
invite us to watch one of these
films with you … well, let’s just
say we’ll bring the popcorn.
Realistic representations
of high school life? As if!
KARI ANDERSON &
SABRIYA IMAMI
Daily Arts Writers
B-SIDE: FILM
B-SIDE: FILM
PARAMOUNT PICTURES
In case you didn’t realize,
high school isn’t exactly
what these films say it’s like.
There aren’t really jerks that
turn over a new leaf once
they fall head over heels in
love with the first girl who
rebuffs them. There aren’t
perfect proms where Usher
(yes, Usher) is the DJ. There
aren’t bets to see if someone
can make someone else
fall in love with them. And
there certainly isn’t valet
everywhere you go.
Kate never met Diana, and
yet the world often sees the
two women as one. Does
she enjoy the legacy, or does
she ache for a moment that
is entirely her own? I see
myself in this question, too.
3B —Thursday, February 27, 2020
b-side
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com