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Dear Fergie, To Her Royal Highness,
the Duchess of YorkBy Scott Vogel
svogel@starbulletin.comOK, so I caved. They told me that you'd be pleased to speak with me by phone, but only if we didn't talk about "personal relationships past and present," "private and family matters," "business matters" or "political or legal matters." Given those stipulations, I couldn't imagine what we'd talk about.
"Sure," I said.
What is it about you that would drive an otherwise upstanding journalist to agree to such parameters? It wasn't the royalty part, nor the chance to talk about Wedgwood china with you, although the tea sets and platters are undeniably pretty. And it wasn't in hopes of suddenly lobbing a Tattleresque question into our dainty discussion -- "So what gives with Prince Harry, anyway?"
No, my reason was simple. I just wanted to spend a few minutes with a good-time gal.
Face it, we Americans love you. You may not be the most glamorous or richest of the royals, but your perceived shortcomings only heighten your appeal to us plebeian types. Who among the Windsors, I ask, is going to survive should the monarchy suddenly be disbanded? You will. And who'd be the best dinner party guest? You would.
Let me illustrate.
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"I remember us all drinking out of these plastic cups with 'Waikiki' on them," you said by phone from Charlotte, N.C., speaking of some souvenirs your father purchased during a polo trip to Hawaii before you were born. "There were only six of them, and I remember they were good because they used to hold a nice lot of squash (a juice drink)."Talk of polo led to reminiscences about your childhood, and in the blink of an eye, you were speaking frankly about what must have been the most traumatic period of your youth.
"I was very, very happy (as a child). That's what got me so upset when, at the age of 12, my mum went to live in Argentina with a polo player. I became an eater. I used to hide my feelings, which is why I work for Weight Watchers as well, because I can certainly relate to what it's like to have a weight problem."
And there you have it -- why we love you. Can you imagine Prince Charles disclosing painful childhood memories to a stranger on an island in the Pacific several thousand miles away? But you have an agenda, they say. Perhaps. But that doesn't mean the conversation around your Wedgwood tea table wouldn't be fascinating.
"Basically, we talk about everything," you said of your daughters Beatrice (13) and Eugenie (11), who still sit regularly for afternoon tea with mum in order to discuss the day's events. "Beatrice is a soprano in the choir, so she talks about how her singing is going and what she's up to. She's a basketball queen. And she's following in her grandmother's footsteps, Her Majesty (Queen Elizabeth II). Beatrice is very talented, with a very good voice. It's not my voice, so it must be Her Majesty's."
It's clear that for you, as for many of us, tea is no mere caffeinated beverage. It's a passageway to heritage and culture, to civilized discourse in an oft-harried world, and as such is an instant source of comfort.
"When someone sees you unhappy, they go, 'Sit down and I'll make you a nice cup of tea.' You know what I mean? It's very soothing."
What: Sarah, the Duchess of York speaks about table style, followed by Wedgwood china signing Duchess in the house
Where: Macy's Ala Moana, third floor, special events room
When: 12:30 p.m. March 15
Cost: Free. Tickets for seating have already been given out, but standing room will be available on a first-come, first-served basis.
We know, Fergie. That's why, against our better judgment, we'll be flocking to the third floor of Macy's Ala Moana next Friday to hear hints from you on how to create attractive table settings. Of course, we can't afford Wedgwood china, but that's not the point. What we want to see is living proof that one can be both bracingly real and unfathomably elegant at once, that all our everyday drudgeries ("we're all in such a rush in our lives -- I'm a single working mum with two girls") can all be washed away by liquid flowing from a cobalt porcelain teapot, as long as the latter is set on an artfully decorated table.
And once we get our pieces of Fergieana home -- you'll be signing china too, we hear -- it'll be up to us to "honor the moment," to borrow a phrase from you.
"If Sept. 11 taught us anything, it was to honor the moment. It's so important to not just wait for Thanksgiving or not wait for the social functions. Let's get today and cherish the moment. Use your china."
But will we? And if we do, will it be to honor the moment? Or merely to accessorize the mien and speech patterns of a postmodern superstar, a flame-haired arbiter of style whose every sentence turns us to butter:
"It will be lovely to be with you all, and please make sure they put a lei around my neck when I get off the flight because I love all that."
I'd love to get to the bottom of this, but I'm off to the airport now.
Eternally yours --
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