When I think of the Queen, I think of her seduction and glamour; not the hollow splendor that is considered such today, but the charm and elegance of a lost time.
In the final episodes of The Crown, released this week on Netflix, the three Elizabeths, Claire Foy, Olivia Colman and Imelda Staunton, finally meet in a filmmaker's homage to reality.
I speak as someone who has had the honor of meeting “the real thing” several times throughout my life.
The problem with The Crown, however, is that you're forced to put your fiction alongside the facts, and the acting in a show like this doesn't show what real people looked and behaved like, but rather how the producers and writers imagined them introduce.
It is therefore unfortunate that two of his Elisabeths often failed to shine with anything approaching authenticity.
The stalwart Imelda Staunton, for all her acting ability, lacked the elusive qualities that the real queen possessed, particularly the vivacious magnetism that captivated a nation for so long. Staunton's queen could be mistaken for a cleaning lady demanding a pay rise, while Olivia Colman sometimes plumbs the depths of sloppiness in muted color palettes and a permanently puckered expression of mirthless disapproval.
Staunton's queen could be mistaken for a cleaning lady demanding a pay rise (left), while Olivia Colman sometimes plumbs the depths of sloppiness in muted color palettes (right)
Of the trio of monarchs in the crown, only Claire Foy captured the vivacity and loveliness of the queen that I knew.
Because it was so beautiful, and age, customs and television couldn't mar it, even though the author, Peter Morgan, did his best at times. (What a shame that The Crown abandoned verisimilitude in favor of headlines and didn't move on with the strangely eternal Foy, who understood the monarch's timeless charm.)
Strictly speaking, Queen Elizabeth was not what the American author Truman Capote would have called “a swan among swans.”
She was neither a Vogue brand, like the current Princess of Wales, nor a flashy beauty. Before alcohol and disappointment ruined her, Princess Margaret was the sister who possessed unparalleled physical refinement.
Her complexion was flawless and drenched in Balmoral mists
But since Foy alone seemed self-conscious in her appearance and bearing, the queen had the blossom of something more.
God had kissed her on the cheek and there she was. British monarchs are not often presentable. Elizabeth I, despite all the hagiography that surrounded her, had a hooked nose and bad skin.
The House of Windsor, on the other hand, with its strict German roots, was not distinguished by its enameled descendants. Even Queen Victoria had only a pale beauty that did not survive her youth.
But in the desert of British monarchs, so populous and often so desolate, Elizabeth II stood out.
I first met the queen when I was 13. My father had attended her coronation and her mother, the other Queen Elizabeth, was a close family friend. It was a windy winter day and I was in the royal box at Kempton Park Racecourse with my parents. When the queen entered with her lady-in-waiting, we all stood up.
I had already had an excruciating encounter with Princess Margaret, who had scolded me for wearing lipstick (“Did you want to look 30?”), so I was wary of being introduced.
In hindsight, I shouldn't have worried. The queen may not have stood up to all the beauty tests, but given her charm, you would never know it.
Her complexion was flawless and drenched in Balmoral mists. Her eyes were sky blue, and when her smile reached her, she could have rivaled any woman in the land.
The second race was about to start and I found myself next to the Monarch. As she raised her binoculars, I had a chance to examine her clothing.
Of the trio of monarchs in the crown, only Claire Foy captured the vivacity and loveliness of the queen that I knew
Claire Foy pictured as Queen Elizabeth II in “The Crown.”
Everything was coordinated – even her shoes were dyed to match the rest of her outfit. Her clothing was elegant and thrifted, typical of upper-class women growing up in the 1930s and 40s.
But what struck me was her surprising sex appeal; It may have been a bat squeak, but it was there. The queen had seductive powers, some of which she inherited from her mother, Elizabeth Bowes Lyon.
The Queen Mother was not lovely in the traditional sense (the Duke of Windsor cruelly nicknamed her “Biscuit” because he thought she looked like a cook), but she could transport a room to a state of enchantment, as could her daughter .
In one of the moments that make life unforgettable, she noticed that I didn't have binoculars. “Would you like to borrow mine?” she asked politely.
I didn't stand out with my answer. As I pulled on the straps, a tangle of leather was visible, not realizing they were still around her neck. For a terrible moment I thought I was suffocating her.
“You have to love racing to want it so much,” she said with a hint of mischief. Lord “Porchy” Carnarvon, her racing director and rumored former beau, was never far behind.
Everyone said Carnarvon was madly in love with her, and it was easy to see why she had captivated the young Prince Philip, one of the most handsome men in Europe.
Like Foy, who embodied the understated glamor of the upper-class woman who loves nature, the queen's warmth was that of a cozy fire that could suddenly burst into flames. In the third race she let a horse run with her, and as it advanced she stomped one of her tiny feet.
When it came second, she turned to Carnarvon and said, “I told you the ground was too hard.” “I don't think you said anything like that, ma'am.” Then she uttered a sentence that stuck in my mind when it was used again to such devastating effect by Harry and Meghan after the Oprah interview: “Memories can be different.” It was magical.
In 1998 I dined with Sir Hardy Amies, who not only made most of the Queen's formal dresses but also had a great appreciation for the female figure. He had dressed high-profile film stars of the time such as Jean Simmons.
I was struck by her surprising sex appeal…she had a seductive power
Sir Hardy's association with Elizabeth began in 1950. When I met him he was a frail old man, but he became animated when the conversation turned to his most famous and famous customer.
“You know,” he said, “she was technically small, but she literally grew on you.” I asked him what he meant.
He stared at her as if he were seeing her in front of him, then carefully replied, “Her Majesty had a wonderful waist, beautiful arms and a very attractive breast, especially when she was young.” You don't see many figures like her these days . “We could reduce her waist to 21 inches and offset that with a flared skirt.”
The queen had another great advantage, said Sir Hardy: she could wear any color, from bright blues and yellows to tweed. She had style, a look unique to her that he described as “very English, calming.” Really brilliant.
Strictly speaking, Queen Elizabeth was not what the American author Truman Capote would have called “a swan among swans.”
And timeless, he said. Wallis Simpson, who was incredibly chic, is now very reminiscent of the 1930s and 40s, like a sepia photo. However, the queen's look never dated. Her appearance embodied how foreigners imagined the English to be.
When I met the queen for the second time in the 1990s, I realized that she had inadvertently become an icon of modern style.
It was a wet day at the Badminton Horse Trials and we were near one of the jumps. Her nose was pink from the cold, and she wore powder on her face with a dash of red lipstick, but that was her only concession to the artificial (in contrast, Imelda Staunton's maquillage was more like a Watusi outfit for a tribal dance) .
I miss that bright splash of color that brightened our gray days
She was around 70 years old, but her clothes still reflected the English upper-class country look that designers like Ralph Lauren still can't resist. In many ways the Queen was its pioneer.
She also had a way of throwing a silk scarf over her head that was as casual and elegant as anything on the runway. (Poor Olivia Colman tried but couldn't capture that spirit, while Ms. Staunton's scarves seemed stuck to her head to withstand hurricanes.)
A family friend who knew the Queen when she was Princess Elizabeth told me many years ago: “She never looked particularly seductive, but she radiated from within.” She always managed to put herself together in such a way that she looked like looked like a statue.
“She had a voluptuous figure and when she was young she made the most of it, but always discreetly.” “She had a natural, well-groomed beauty.”
It didn't matter that she wasn't as pretty as Hollywood. The queen has never confused royalty with celebrity, a distinction that highlights the dangers of being played by famous actresses.
As Sir Hardy said: “She wanted people to see her, not her clothes.” We had disagreements because she wanted to wear colors all the time. She would say to me, “I have to be seen to be believed.”
Above all, she dressed for the nation and her clothing reflected its mood as only women's clothing can.
Her wedding dress, which she wore when she married Philip in 1947 and which was recreated for Mrs Foy, was a perfect example of this. It was attuned to the national mood of food books and the hope for regrowth.
To pay for the dress, the princess, like any other British bride, saved up dress vouchers. The result was a simple but ethereal cream silk dress embroidered with the flowers of the Commonwealth.
If this should be a message to the countries that were once part of the British Empire.
Canada, Australia, Pakistan, Jamaica and New Zealand were among those that joined the Commonwealth as independent nations. There was no longer any room for empires or empresses.
We thought we didn't know what the Queen was thinking, but she expressed herself through her clothes more skillfully than any politician.
With her sense of honor, public service and an extraordinary lack of vanity, Elizabeth II was the ideal queen of post-war Britain.
The beauty she possessed was not that of a solar myth, but an organic creature that every woman in the land could identify with.
I miss her on the balcony of Buckingham Palace; that bright spot of color that brightened our gray days and reflected our summers back to us.
Our queen had true glamour, besides what is merely fashionable is as fleeting as steam.
And as the make-believe queens of The Crown walk off into a televised sunset, it's the cheerful, crystal-clear Claire Foy who will forever taint my gratitude for bringing this back to us.