Why is it that gay men, in very large numbers, are simply obsessed with HM? You can keep a gay dinner party going for hours by asking the right question, whether about tiaras, the cakes served at royal garden parties, HM’s health, living arrangements, relations with public figures or the footmen, or opinions about almost anything. Never worn it.”Īs the Queen celebrates her Platinum Jubilee (“so unflattering, loathe the stuff,” my friend said), the time has perhaps come to ask an urgent question. But what is it? Oh hush now, Huw Edwards is reading out one of his file cards. “She’s not splashed out on a new tiara since that hideous Burmese one with the rubies,” he said. “To my certain knowledge. It’s the old story of that Brazilian aquamarine tiara all over again, stick it at the back of the cupboard, forget you ever had it.”
“There’ll be security guards hovering at the reception, making sure Granny gets it back,” I said. “Look at the size of that emerald up front.” I was also feverishly hunting through Suzy Menkes’ classic book The Royal Jewels in search of what had baffled me, and obviously baffled my friend too: the tiara she was wearing. I was watching the marriage of Princess Eugenie of York to a bloke called Jack. I didn’t even pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about. I answered. “What’s that?” my friend said, without preamble.
