Her remarkably consistent, well-chosen wardrobe made her as recognisable to us as a member of our own family
The Queen was one of the greatest fashion figures the world has ever known. It is testament to her extraordinary life that 70 years of style will go down as one of her more minor achievements.
In her rainbow colours she flew a flag for a dependable, unflashy cheer. Each day, she doubled down on one colour, wearing it head to toe. She wore yellow, red, pink, purple, blue or green. (She was ever the diplomat, so we will never know which was her favourite. I always thought she looked particularly pretty in buttercup yellow, not an easy colour to pull off.) A plain knee-length coat layered over a dress in the same colour or a coordinating floral pattern, and matched with a hat. Neutral accessories: a handbag hanging from her left wrist, gloves, and block-heeled shoes. A brooch at her left lapel, and a triple strand of pearls around her neck.
A photograph of the Queen from May 1977, taken during her silver jubilee tour, shows her in a duck egg blue coat with self-covered buttons, with a dress and coat to match. The wide lapels of the coat show a glimpse of the pearls at her throat, and her white gloves match her handbag. Another photograph, taken 42 years later at the February 2019 centenary celebrations for GCHQ, shows her in an almost identical outfit. The coat is a bolder blue, the hat more angular, the gloves and bag now black rather than white, but these are mere details. It is essentially the same outfit. It hits at the same point at the knee, has the same clean silhouette. This remarkable constancy, which th couturier Sir Norman Hartnell called “a non-sensational elegance”, has defined the Queen’s wardrobe.
With her ceremonial brights and sharply tailored lines, Queen has been described as the ultimate power dresser. But that does not do justice to the spirit in which she dressed. There was a generosity and warmth to a wardrobe that helped all of us to feel that we knew her. Her clothes were chosen not for how flattering they looked in her mirror but for how well they spoke to the rest of us. Attending state occasions and gala openings, walking to church or in her box at Ascot, the Queen was as recognisable to us as our own family members. You didn’t even need to see her face to pick her out in an instant. The diminutive but sturdy figure; the colour, solid and bright as a Cluedo piece in Mrs Peacock purple or Colonel Mustard yellow. (When it rained, her umbrella was transparent.) She made herself part of the landscape of ordinary people, as familiar as a grandparent’s photo on the mantelpiece. Most of us never got a garden party invite, but through the way she dressed, she made herself familiar to us. She was a fixed, unwavering landmark who helped us steer a steady course, like the spot a ballerina focuses on to keep her balance in a pirouette.