Fug File: The Royal Wedding

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.


    Royal Weddingpalooza: Well Played, Princes Harry and Wills

    Well, we can’t let the girls have all the fun, right?