The Other Side of the Coin: The Queen, the Dresser and the Wardrobe - Angela Kelly

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spoke with Her Majesty one final time before the tour. Once again, I told her that I was certain the Vatican would not have suggested that a day dress would be appropriate. I remember The Queen asking if I had ever been to the Vatican before and how I could be so sure of my advice. I hadn’t, but said the reason I knew was because I was brought up a strong Catholic and that if The Queen turned up for such an important meeting in a day dress, where would it all end? I felt that standards would start slipping. Would guests just turn up to the Investitures in a cotton dress and pumps because they felt more comfortable? I insisted once more that the Pope would not expect guests to arrive in such informal dress. I simply would not dress The Queen this way and at this point, Her Majesty just wanted the matter to be sorted. I had to carry off my plan perfectly.

      Three months later, we were in Rome and I went about unpacking Her Majesty’s clothes and arranging her outfits for the upcoming engagements. Soon enough, the day of her visit to the Pope arrived and I heard my name being called loudly down the corridor: I will never forget the sight of the Private Secretary frantically running down one of the longest corridors in the Quirinale Palace, bellowing my name, ‘Angela, Angela, quick!’, and wearing his brown jumper, brown corduroy trousers, brown socks but no shoes! He demanded to know what The Queen would be wearing that day. I calmly informed him that Her Majesty would be wearing a shocking pink outfit, as advised by him and the Assistant Private Secretaries, which did little to calm his panicked state. ‘Don’t you always travel with a black outfit?’ he asked, and I replied that I had not on this occasion. In fact, we do always travel with a black outfit in case of an unexpected sad occasion, but I wasn’t going to let him know that after what he had put me through. I told him not to worry and that Her Majesty would still look beautiful.

      He then sent a message to The Queen asking what should be done, as the Vatican had said that the outfit must be dark. Shortly afterwards, The Queen sent for me and asked if we had any dark outfits that she could wear instead. ‘Okay, Your Majesty,’ I said, ‘I’ll show you something.’ And with that, I produced the navy-blue dress and pillbox hat that I had had secretly made before casually commenting that, ideally, the outfit would be black for a meeting with the Pope. Her Majesty agreed and without a moment of hesitation, I produced the exact same dress and veiled hat in black. ‘Luckily enough,’ I said, ‘I also had this made. So you’re absolutely fine.’ I vividly remember the brief look of relief on The Queen’s face.

       The two versions of the dress that I had secretly had made.

      Watching Her Majesty walk out in her stylish, modern and appropriate black outfit to meet His Holiness the Pope, I felt so proud of myself for having faith in my convictions. The Queen walked out dressed appropriately in her new black outfit as Head of the Church of England meeting another head of the church, His Holiness the Pope. I had known all along that my instincts about The Queen’s outfit that day were right, even though I wasn’t being listened to. From then on, I felt confident that my opinion would be heard.

      Eventually I found out that the private engagement was a photograph of The Queen with members of the Royal Household outside the Sistine Chapel, and the Private Secretaries wanted Her Majesty to wear a normal day dress so that it looked like a fun day out, as the Royal Household wouldn’t be dressed in black. This photograph moment had been prioritised above that important private meeting with His Holiness.

      In 2014, The Queen met privately with the Pope during a visit to Rome. I had the honour and privilege to be presented to His Holiness. This was extremely special for me. I was holding my rosary beads when the Pope touched my hands to bless them, and I knew my mother would have been so proud of me.

       A little colour makes all the difference. At Joel & Son Fabrics in 2019.

      FINDING

       MY FEET

      As my role progressed, I spent more and more time working on Her Majesty’s wardrobe and I started to notice that many of her outfits were made in similar colours. The Queen was wearing a lot of dark green, navy, and red, and I had also noticed that some of the older pieces – the stunning Hardy Amies evening gowns, for example – which had been the height of fashion a few years before, had begun to look a little tired. Spending time with The Queen had allowed me to understand better her likes and dislikes, and I sensed that she would enjoy more vibrant colours and some fresher designs. At this point Her Majesty’s outfits were still only made by designers and dressmakers outside the Palace.

      On one occasion I mentioned to The Queen that the designers should be looking at brighter colours and new designs, but who was I to tell them? I had been Senior Dresser for a couple of years and in that time had become more confident, talking to The Queen more about her outfits. I think The Queen knew that I was loyal and would only ever be honest with her. I could not help thinking that The Queen’s style needed to change quickly, before she was made to look older than she was – which was what some of the old designs did. Some of the coats and dresses also had to be made shorter, as The Queen still had, and still does have, a good figure and excellent legs.

      One day, The Queen invited me to join her the next time a designer, his team and the milliner came in for a fitting. I was slightly taken aback as I wouldn’t usually be present for fittings; usually I just saw the dressmakers into the room and would leave them to it, but this time I was asked to stay. I was also quite anxious as I knew I couldn’t hide my feelings very well: if an outfit did not suit Her Majesty, the expression on my face would make it clear to everyone what I thought. Even worse, if The Queen asked my advice, I would be forced to dismiss an outfit in front of its designer, or the hat in front of its milliner. Her Majesty would never want to hurt anyone’s feelings, even if I didn’t mind, and I would have to be honest about my opinion for her sake. Little did I know that this moment was yet another stepping stone for me, another door opening.

      With the fitting under way, as I’d anticipated, the expression on my face started to give everything away and Her Majesty asked my opinion. This question didn’t go down well with everyone in the room. With bated breath they all turned to me for my answer and waited, and I could see the shock across their faces as I told them my thoughts: the hats were too masculine and their patterns too large. In terms of the outfits, The Queen needed something more chic, fitted and elegant. There was a shocked silence in the room after I spoke. I suspected that I would never be invited back, and I imagine the designer and milliner hoped as much, but Her Majesty continued to request my presence at fittings, to the dread of those designers. I became their worst nightmare.

      I vividly remember one fitting where The Queen was draped in a very large piece of bold, jacquard material in a large print. Even a six-foot-tall model would have struggled to pull off something like that, and it absolutely drowned Her Majesty. Once again, I could not hide my disapproval when Her Majesty asked my thoughts. Without hesitation, I said, ‘No way! It doesn’t suit you at all and it is totally the wrong pattern.’ An awkward silence and an icy atmosphere descended on the room. Everyone in sequence turned their heads towards me with what felt like daggers in their eyes, except for The Queen who stared straight ahead and goodness knows what she was thinking. The atmosphere was ice cold. Just at that moment, The Duke of Edinburgh happened to walk past and Her Majesty asked what he thought of the material, knowing that, like mine, his feedback is always honest. ‘Is that the new material for the sofa?’ he joked, before continuing on his way. I excused myself, left the room, and privately punched the air with delight. I composed myself, then walked back into the dressing room where I noticed the material was being folded and put away unused. The Queen was thanking the designers and the milliner for their time and they left the room.

      Shortly after that fitting, and experiencing my honesty, Her Majesty asked me to draw some of my own designs for what I thought she should wear. I told her I couldn’t – it had been a long time since I had sketched any outfits. ‘If I wanted an artist, I would hire one,’ The Queen said jokingly. And with that, I began rummaging through the parcels of gift materials, taking samples to show Her Majesty the wealth of beautiful silks and glorious patterns that she already

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