Fug File: The Royal Wedding

Well Played: The Traditional Wills and Kate Wedding Anniversary Post

I totally wasn’t going to do this post this year but, as I write this, it’s the middle of the night and I thought, “WHY NOT, you foolish girl? Let us relive the magic.”  Sometimes people just like to look at pictures from the Royal Wedding. Especially while we are waiting for the New Royal Baby to make an appearance. And as always, I am happy to direct you to our live-blog of the event itself, wherein Heather and I wore caftans and cried and also I got really irrationally mad at Vera Wang.

Also, given that The Royal We opens on the eve of a royal wedding between a commoner and the dreamy heir to the British throne, it would be insane of me not to remind you that it is currently AVAILABLE for your reading pleasure at ANY NUMBER of book-purveyors and that if you enjoyed looking at these pictures, you’d probably enjoy reading it. And so would your mom, and Mother’s Day is May 10th. Listen, I just want you to be happy.

Magically happy:


So happy you just want to roll your perfect hair around the back of some old sofa:




Hug a prince or a well-coiffed commoner today.


Well Played Retrospective: Wills and Kate’s Royal Wedding

It’s Wills and Kate’s wedding anniversary, and while we never really need an excuse to revisit a royal wedding, I’m taking this one anyway. Let’s think of this as the final attempt to ween us from daily Royals Coverage during the recent Royal Tour. It’s a step-down program, you guys. So!  All of coverage from day in question can be found here, of course — including our liveblog of the wedding, at which I wore a caftan (sincerely), and which contains so many memories, including “2:51 a.m: KATE IS GETTING INTO THE CAR. SHE IS WEARING WHITE AND A VEIL AND LACE SLEEVES AND !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (We can’t really see it.) (But it seems demure and lovely.) (We can’t wait to get a good look at it.) (Vera Wang is all, ‘There’s a very large skirt.’ No kidding, Vera. ‘You wouldn’t want to wear it to a restaurant.’ REALLY? NO KIDDING VERA. You WOULDN’T want to wear the gown you’re wearing to marry THE FUTURE KING OF ENGLAND to a restaurant.),” which is a comment that, three years later, I still totally stand by. I totally forgot I spent all Royal Wedding Night wanting to smack Vera Wang. But why not take a little walk down memory lane, is what I am saying.  Fug Nation does love a good wedding.

PS: For this slideshow, I tried to get pictures that were specifically not in our previous coverage (other than, obviously, The Balcony Kiss That Changed Piers Morgan Forever), but obviously they will probably not SHOCK you with their newness. I did not discover one of Harry, like, secretly snogging Pippa behind an ice sculpture or anything.

(Speaking of snogging, this seems like an excellent place to remind everyone once again and probably not for the last time that Heather and I have a new book coming out next year, right about now (tentatively), the subject of which is very topical to this post. Per Publishers Weekly, it is: “Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan’s first adult novel THE ROYAL WE, about a young American woman who spends a semester abroad in England and falls in love with the man of her dreams — who happens to be the future King of England, a tale loosely inspired by the real-life courtship and marriage of Kate Middleton and Prince William.”  ["Loosely," by the way, is very apt. Stuff gets way fictionalized up in this thing. A giant chunk of which I am supposed to be writing right now, actually. What am I even doing here? Go look at Harry and let me concentrate on this book, you guys.])

[Photos: Getty]


Royal Weddingpalooza Reception: Well Played Catherine, Fug Played, Camilla, etc.

My day might have ended — at least mentally — once I went to bed at 9 a.m. Friday morning, but William and Catherine “Kate Middleton” Cambridge Carrickfergus Etc. went on to a few post-wedding shindigs (if only Harry’s Best Man toast would end up on YouTube…). The bride once again wore McQueen, the groom wore a tux, Harry and Pippa presumably wore lusty grins on their faces at one another because they are only human after all, people wore hats, and Camilla… well. Camilla. She may not have realized there was still a party happening.


Royal Weddingpalooza: A Look Back

It’s been a long week, and a long DAY, but one we may all want to remember because how often does the future King of England get married in our lifetimes? TO A COMMONER? CLUTCH YOUR PEARLS, ALL.

I’m sure there will be more to discuss come Monday, like what everyone changed into for the approximately three thousand after-parties, but for now here are the links that might help you relive the anticipation and the eventual scratching-of-the-itch.

    Phew. GOOD TIMES. Let’s do it again. Come on, Harry, pick your poison.


    Royal Wedding Fug: Chelsy Davy

    I’m bummed there are almost no pictures of Chelsy Davy, because when she walked into Westminster Abbey, we both went, “Oh… no.”

    Not that it was AWFUL, per se, but the front was really kind of baggy and stodgy and stale, her hair looked rough around the edges, her fascinator was this random lacy disc with a bit of a veil, and her skin is the color of a thoroughbred. Chelsy seems like she could kick my ass, but I will forge ahead undaunted and say that I feel for her, because what Kate Middleton managed to develop in uncanny poise and polish, Chelsy terminally seems to be missing — in the sense that she always looks like she blew in on a slightly sweaty breeze. I decided she’s the European Tara Reid, a.k.a. the girl most likely to show up on E! hosting a show about Mustique’s best bathrooms to vomit in, or Ibiza’s best hangover food, or Majorca’s best beaches to pass out on at odd times of the morning.

    I should point out that I’m making complete snap judgments about her, but that’s what happens when you’re pushing into hour 25 of no sleep and you just spent ten minutes shaking your fist at Ann Curry just because she’s there. She’s always there.


    Royal Wedding Fug: Tara Palmer-Tomkinson

    I really wish you could see the wonk in socialite Tara P-T’s nose. It basically recently collapsed, because — she’s admitted this — prolonged cocaine use jacked it up almost beyond repair. She kept touching the right side of it really gingerly, as if making sure it hadn’t shifted any further to the left. Oh, Tara. You are a delight.

    A delight, and presumably a canoeing enthusiast, as she’s strapped one to her skull. Do we think this is what became of Violet Beauregard? A rampant drug habit brought on by years of ritual juicings, ending in her at a royal wedding holding her nose in place while a very cold horizontal Dutch person goes clogging on her forehead? Poor Violet. At least Veruca got a golden egg on her way down to the incinerator.


    NY Fug.com: How the Royal Wedding Triumphed

    And of course we wrote about it for NY Mag:

    “The first glimpse of a girl in her gown, about to change her life in ways even she may not fully grasp, managed to be breathtaking even to those of us who like to think we are thoroughly jaded.”

    And also, we made fun of some hats to boot. Pop over there and check out the entire piece, if you’re so inclined.