Becoming Meghan Markle: One Vogue Writer Puts Royal Fashion Protocol to the Test

Come Saturday, the world will watch as Meghan Markle marries Prince Harry at Windsor Castle in a real-life Cinderella moment. Since the engagement was announced, Markle has slowly but surely become acquainted with royal fashion protocol with a few refreshing and unexpected exceptions along the way, suggesting she will bring new life to the storied British establishment. In short, she is the anti–Sloane Ranger, and that’s precisely why she’s fashion’s new favorite royal to watch.

In an attempt to better understand what life is like for a duchess-in-training, I set out to channel Markle in a list of scenarios with a view to royal etiquette—starting with afternoon tea at the Plaza Hotel with Myka Meier, founder of New York’s Beaumont Etiquette whose bio includes training in London under a former member of the royal household of Her Majesty the Queen. She’s worked with members of the British royal family, and attended the prestigious Institut Villa Pierrefeu, a finishing school near Montreux, Switzerland. Oh, and she once danced with Prince Harry at a party.

When I meet with Meier one recent afternoon, I am quick admit that I don’t share much in common with Markle, save for the fact that we’re both American; we also both possess an unabashed love for the theater (her major at Northwestern), and according to the new Lifetime original movie, Harry and Meghan: A Royal Romance, we both enjoy the occasional dirty martini. For the moment, however, Meier and I are drinking proper English tea, as she demonstrates the right (read: royal) way to hold a teacup (pinky in!), add cream, (stir from 12 to 6!), and a number of other British top-tier dining techniques so complex they make the accompanying royal fashion protocol seem relatively simple to master. Or so I thought.

Black-Tie Benefit:

First up on my calendar is the Save Venice gala, which is frankly the social event of the spring season. It is famous for attracting figureheads of both society and real-life royalty alike, which seems an appropriate place to make my debut as Markle. The invitation calls for “opulent black-tie and masks,” and for this, I am inspired by the look that Markle wore for her engagement photos last December. The outfit caused a bit of a stir as many felt her frothy Ralph & Russo gown was too transparent for a future royal. Like Markle’s dress, my Monique Lhuillier boasts a high neckline, full sleeves, and strategically-placed beads—and is just sheer enough to feel unconventional. According to Meier, a black-tie event is one of the few occasions where royals can play with open-toe shoes, so long as it doesn’t come with a major platform, which should either be very low or non-existent. To be on the safe side, I select Oscar de la Renta sandals sans platform.

I carry a glitter-flecked Edie Parker clutch, knowing that the handheld carrier is royal-approved, and for several reasons. Princess Diana, for instance, referred to her signature accessory as “cleavage clutches” as the compact size was just big enough to cover her décolletage while exiting cars. Queen Elizabeth, on the other hand, prefers a top-handle silhouette, though she still uses the strategic placement and position, each made to signal a different message to her staff in waiting. Others, like the Duchess of Cambridge, rely on clutches as a means to ensure their hands stay conveniently occupied, which keeps them from appearing awkward, and limits the number of handshakes. After all, the last thing royals want is to run to the risk of picking up a pesky cold.

When it comes to jewelry, there is more leeway, as modern-day royals like to mix in costume jewelry with the real deal. The one caveat, Meier tells me, is that diamonds should be reserved for the hours after 6 p.m. Then again, Markle has broken with tradition by taking to mismatched earrings, and I do the same in a set of incongruous studs, plus a few stacked rings, including one midi and another thumb, both unexpected accessory moves beloved by Markle. Mine are on loan from Vogue’s permanent accessories closet, which admittedly feels a little bit like borrowing from the royal jewelry archive. The final touch is an Erickson Beamon mask studded with Swarovski crystals.

At the gala, my dress is an instant hit among both friends and strangers alike. “This is divine!” gushes one of my tablemates. In between the first and second course, I visit a nearby table to say ‘hello’ to a colleague, whose date informs me the two young women who are seated at the other end are so enamored with my dress, they demanded I pay them a visit on my way back to my seat. “I love it!” one of them says beaming, who agrees with me when I tell her it was inspired by my soon-to-be-royal muse. “It’s definitely how she would do a New York City gala.” Though the most convincing testimonial came during a trip to the powder room, where a certain famous British actress is touching up her lipstick in the mirror. “Pretty dress,” she says on seeing my reflection. In other words the ultimate It Brit endorsement.

Broadway Show Opening:

A few days later, I attend the opening of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child on Broadway, which seems an ideal place to put my American-bound-for-London wardrobe into play. During our tea, Meier had touched on a little thing called gliding (in fact, her PowerPoint presentation has an entire slide devoted to it). Basically it’s how royals are taught to put one foot in front of the other, and immediately conjures up images of a scene in The Princess Diaries when Julie Andrews’s character teaches a pre-makeover Mia (Anne Hathaway) to balance a book on her head—not while walking, but rather, gliding. This skill, as it turns out, is infinitely more challenging to master in sky-scraping Jimmy Choos. Mine are just shy of four inches, because, well, according to Meier, anything higher should be reserved for a black-tie. They also come with a closed toe, a detail that meets the more formal dress code.

It’s also hard to glide when you’re wearing a figure-hugging sheath, for that matter. I’ve chosen the same Black Halo “Jackie O” dress, inspired by the former First Lady that Markle donned one recent night at the Commonwealth women’s empowerment reception. The LBD boasts an asymmetric neckline, belted waist, and a cool under–$275 price point. Markle balanced out the high-street find with designer accessories: a Gucci velvet clutch and gold-and-diamond earrings from Canadian jeweler, Birks, one of several brands Markle has helped put on the map.

Like the Duchess of Cambridge, Prince Harry’s fiancé has been a frequent champion of contemporary fashion and accessory labels that are decidedly accessible—and oft sell out in record time. The added value that Markle’s new role will bring to the British fashion economy is estimated to be in the hundreds of millions (not to mention, the priceless visibility), and some predict she’ll have a greater impact than Middleton.

To top my outfit, I slip on the same camel Sentaler coat that Markle wore for her first official outing with The Queen when she joined Prince Harry for church service on Christmas day. The Canadian-based label makes outerwear from ethically-sourced alpaca, which is lightweight enough to warrant wearing into spring. It’s also a nice alternative to exotic skins, which royals are advised to steer clear of, and understandably so. On the ride over, my driver accidentally mistakes me for a model, a conclusion he says he came to on the merits of my personal style. It’s a generous if not incredulous assertion, to be sure, but perhaps worth noting insofar as I am not so often mistaken for a model. The compliment is enough to put a spring in my step, and I glide for the rest of the afternoon.

Derby Party:

The next week, it’s Derby Day in Kentucky, and that means a number of viewing parties are being held all over New York and parts of Brooklyn, which is where I find myself that afternoon at an outdoor shindig hosted by G.H. Mumm. I’ve asked my guy friend John to accompany me, who is apparently too cool to comply with the requested attire, which in derby tradition, calls for a major hat, and yet he still gives me that proverbial up and down as soon as he sees me arrive wearing a fabulous Bijou Van Ness fascinator adorned with a mix of goose nagoire feathers and coque tail feathers. Markle, like me, is new to the local outré accessory of choice, which is complicated enough to warrant an etiquette class of its own. I’m faced with questions like “Which is the front and which is the back?” “How do I firmly secure it in place?” “And exactly where should it sit on my crown?” John seems to have all the answers. “You look like a cross between a Dame from a Dashiel Hammit story,” he swiftly concludes, “and a murderer from Clue.”

I pair my flowing, floral Self Portrait dress with a crossbody bag, perhaps Markle’s most famous way of bucking tradition. The style is rarely worn by royals, because while sensible, it can create wrinkles. I make like Markle, who has begun carrying hers over one shoulder to stay crease-free. I lace into L.K. Bennett wedges, a label long since beloved by the Duchess of Cambridge, and one of the few subtle ways that Middleton has bucked tradition with respect to royal fashion protocol. This principle comes straight from The Queen, who apparently can’t stand the sight of wedges. It’s a well-known quirk among the women at Windsor, who reserve their chunky shoes for casual affairs where her majesty’s presence isn’t requested.

My wedges keep me comfortably grounded through the race, and even lasted past John’s own exit. But within two minutes sans chaperone, a man who clearly had one too many Mint Juleps uses my fascinator as an excuse to hit on me. “I just love beautiful hats,” he says as he goes to snap a selfie without my consent, then he proceeds to spill his drink on, yes, my wedges. I get a very small sense of how royals must feel when they’re ambushed by iPhone-wielding fans, but I write it off as a successful first attempt at British hats.

Game Day:

After Markle infamously wore ripped skinny jeans to attend the Invictus Games in Toronto in 2017, many deemed her trendy distressed denim unfit for a duchess-in-training. The next year, a now-engaged Markle took to black bootcut jeans that were noticeably free of holes which she paired with a polo shirt embroidered with the Invictus Game logo and a olive-green Aritzia trench. The overall effect was a polished upgrade on traditional team gear.

But as elevated as Markle’s game-day uniform was, some will say she over-delivered: Her spiked stiletto boots sparked an Internet debate about what is—and isn’t—appropriate footwear for treading between the field and the track. Markle wasn’t set to participate, and was there as a purely supportive, very stylish girlfriend, but many who on the offensive drew comparisons to The Duchess of Cambridge, who wore a pair of (slightly schlubby, though significantly more practical) New Balance trainers to run a marathon against Harry and William at the 2017 Invictus Games.

I decide to put Markle’s strategy to the test at a Yankees game, with a few minor adjustments. Rather than outfitting myself in MLB swag, I opt instead for a Vineyard Vines pique polo shirt with the team logo, one of several customizable options. I also swap stilettos for lace-up ballet flats courtesy of Sarah Flint—a celebrity-favorite footwear label Markle has been known to wear off-duty. I substitute bootcut jeans with a kicky cropped version by Mother. And thanks to their signature snug, cradle-your-bottom cut, my backside never looked better (or more belfie worthy). Though I imagine this sort of cheeky behavior has no place among members of the monarchy, who are strictly prohibited from taking selfies with the public. Even Markle, whose now-deactivated Instagram was once flooded with mirror selfies, politely declined a fan’s selfie request during her first official engagement. The social media age–equivalent of the autograph (another royal no-no as it could potentially be used to commit forgery) is restricted for reasons involving security (too close!), logistics (too time-consuming!), and the simple fact that The Queen is not a fan, and neither is Harry.

The real game-changer is my statement coat. The water-repellent finish proves instrumental for weathering the scattered showers that day, and the layer is the only thing differentiating me from the bartenders in the Jim Beam suite, who are all wearing the same indistinguishable navy monogrammed polo shirt of their own. It is yet another reason to leave the coat on, in keeping with a lesser-known protocol which says royals should refrain from removing their outerwear in public. Peeling off layers in front of others is viewed as unladylike (yes, really), which is why The Duchess of Cambridge (and now, Markle) can often be seen wearing a coat or a coat-dress that’s too chic to check. Silly tradition and unintended twinning aside, I’m a fan of the look.

Spring Gala:

The next night, I’m set to attend the Manhattan Theatre Awards, and for this, I channel the caped look Markle wore to the Queen’s birthday last month. The kicker is the fact that she styled it with nude stockings, an admittedly old-fashioned underpinning that has become synonymous with royal protocol. In fact, the brand Commando actually sells a precise style of hosiery they call “Princess Sheers.” And if there were any question as to who inspired the legwear, they are not-so-subtly offered in a pale beige dubbed “Diana” and a slightly deeper shade called “Kate.” As for me, I find my perfect match in a pair of nude thigh-highs, which, even in a flesh-colored finish, feel slightly more sexy and a lot less matronly than the alternative. They’re transparent enough to go unnoticed, and surprisingly smooth to the touch, although I suspect my limbs look more pasty than they would in their natural state. Perhaps this wouldn’t be an issue if I were a royal, whose stockings are said to be couture, made to suit one’s skin tone and waist size. In any case, when Markle went bare during official appearances, her engagement interview included, it wasn’t just unexpected, it was downright revolutionary. Though on the occasion of Her Majesty The Queen’s birthday, she played by the rules. I find that the cape dress is significantly more wearable, particularly when it is met with multiple admirers at the gala. Not one but two guests describe the look as “regal.” And nude stockings are a small price to pay for that kind of flattery.

The Office:

Markle may have left Hollywood for the House of Windsor, but that doesn’t mean she’ll be retiring all of those tailored separates she wore in Suits. Indeed, she’s already stepped out in pantsuits by Alexander McQueen, as seen when she recently accompanied Prince Harry to The Endeavor Awards in London. While there is no hard-and-fast rule against trousers, they’re usually reserved for casual wear. (Equally important, Markle must learn to use the appropriate British fashion terminology; in the U.K., they’re trousers, not pants, which refers to underwear.) I put the look to work at the Vogue office, buttoning into an Alice & Olivia blazer sans collar, a la Markle’s McQueen and the same silk blouse my muse paired with her pantsuit. The blouse extends into a bodysuit below the waist—a genius construction that lends the appearance of a proper tucked-in hem without any bunching or bulk. According to Meier, The Duchess of Cambridge is privy to wearing shapewear underneath her clothes, as it’s the surest way to smooth out any unsightly lumps or bumps.

In truth, my blouse-slash-bodysuit feels a bit like a diaper at first. A routine trip to the ladies room is nothing short of a production, and requires some serious finesse to get in and out of this complex contraption. And yet it seems it’s worth the extra lift, as my newly-polished working wardrobe is met with positive results. My colleagues aren’t used to seeing this corporate chic side of me, and their responses range from “Wow—you look so professional!” to “Why don’t you wear pantsuits everyday?” and my personal favorite, “You should make this look your LinkedIn profile photo.” By the end of the day, even the mailroom guys were playfully addressing me as “princess.”

After all, whether you’re résumé reads fashion writer or royal duchess, it’s a matter of dressing the part.

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