Earlier this year, when Catherine, the Princess of Wales, returned to the public eye after her treatment for cancer, The Sunday Times of London reported that she was doing so with a caveat: She wanted to focus on her work, not her clothes. Her office would no longer share information about what she wore.
Cue shock and horror. Even if it was understandable, given what she had been through, and even if the report was later disputed by the palace itself, it sent tremors through the fashion-watching community.
That was partly because the princess could change the fortunes of a designer or a brand simply by wearing a dress. And it was partly because she had long used her place in the attention economy to shine a light not just on British products, but on issues like sustainability by remaking and rewearing pieces from her closet, and even renting the occasional evening gown.
Mostly, though, it was because the clothes are an expression of her role as a symbol — of the country and that fine line between continuity and modernization. Stepping back from one suggested she was stepping back from the other. It’s a weird thing to essentially be an avatar, but it’s the job.
As her appearance at the Wimbledon men’s and women’s finals, and at the French state visit, demonstrated, however, Catherine may be more selective about her appearances (she did skip Ascot), but she is no less strategic. She is simply being Catherine 3.0.
There she was, after all, at the state visit, welcoming Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron in a blush-colored Dior suit with a New Look jacket and a skirt covered in net, just brushing her calves. The brand is both classic French and about to be led by a designer from Northern Ireland who was trained in Britain.
It was a considered nod to political alliance (the kind she has practiced since marrying Prince William) that she repeated at the French state banquet, wearing a red Givenchy gown with a built-in cape sweeping down from her shoulders. It was regal, sure, but also strategic, given that Givenchy is now designed by Sarah Burton, the British designer who made Catherine’s wedding gown and who has been her collaborator on numerous high-profile public occasions.
Talk about entente.
And there Catherine was at the Wimbledon women’s final in a cream jacket and long pleated skirt, a coolly appropriate riff on tennis whites and her position as patron of the All England Lawn Tennis & Croquet Club.
So, too, the royal blue ankle-length Roksanda dress she wore to the men’s final was perfectly coordinated with Prince William’s blue blazer, Prince George’s blue suit and Princess Charlotte’s white dress trimmed in blue, all creating a literal picture of family unity. All demonstrating that Catherine is as attuned as ever to the role image-making plays in her job.
That’s not new. What is new, however, is the style in which she is doing it, and its consistency. Her skirts have gotten longer, her jackets more tailored, her silhouette more streamlined. The effect of dropping her hemlines even a few inches is both oddly nostalgic and sophisticated, gently protective. A reminder that she is dressing for the long game.
Like the lanky pantsuits she had adopted for her everyday appearances, her style is shaping up as a new formula for dressing. As recognizable, in its own way, as the monochrome formula that served Queen Elizabeth II so well: shoes-to-coat-to-dress-to-hat in one shade.
And it brings a new dimension to the symbolism inherent in Catherine’s role. She is representing not just the next generation of the royal family, which itself represents tradition. She is representing the idea of elegance emerging from adversity, an idea that has both micro and macro associations. Who couldn’t use some of that right about now?
Vanessa Friedman has been the fashion director and chief fashion critic for The Times since 2014.
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