By Jan Sayer

thescene — Mon, 08 Oct 2007 00:32:00 GMT

I went to the exhibition Diana: A Celebration at the Powerhouse in Sydney. This show was an enormous success in the US, so I decided to trot along even though I’m not particularly a Princess Di fan.

It was such a dreary, dark display that I almost felt sorry for her. Lots of sad little bits and bobs from an upper-class childhood. There didn’t seem any real purpose to her; born into wealth, she didn’t exactly have to ‘do’ anything, but sit and wait of a chinless, aristocrat to claim her, which was exactly what happened. But, hush, my republican tendencies. The highlight was the wedding gown, which regardless of all the negative comments, is truly lovely and worth seeing. It is far less ornate than many of the other Royal dresses and completely captures the spirit of the woman it was designed for. It is naively beautiful, with a subtle sparkle from the lace running all 25 foot of the cathedral–length train.

Most of the stuff was uninspiring, like the contents of a long abandoned child’s room. It just happened to belong to someone who had become a Princess. The display of clothes from her marriage to her death in 1997 told an interesting story. It is clear from the engagement photos that Diana had no dress sense of her own. She wore what she was told to. Most of the early formal suits and gowns look like they had been chosen from a catalogue by the Palace apparatchik. Then towards the end of her marriage, we see the beginning of the end of H.R.H and the start of Princess Di, fashion icon. The later gowns by Armani, Versace and Jacques Azagury, a young graduate of St Martin’s School of Arts, are simple and conservative, but at last Di is being styled by designers who know how to dress a Princess to advantage. Di was very tall and strong- boned - no waif, but a good solid woman. Too much clutter overwhelmed her.

But like all the other ‘princesses,’ real or Hollywood-created; Grace Kelly, Marilyn Monroe, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, and Audrey Hepburn, what they wore was completely irrelevant because they all possessed the same luminous quality that drew the camera and others to them. Armani suit or plastic bin bag, it didn’t matter what they wore because the glow came from within. It is odd to watch them on film, I’m thinking of the tragic CCTV shots of Dianna in the hour before the car crash. She is simply dressed for a night at his place with a man she clearly adores; a man she is comfortable with. We never see her face, but that incredible visual magic just hits you. No amount of money can buy it – you either have it or you don’t.

So perhaps the moral of this piece is a good frock can do wonders, but first recognise who you are and don’t rely on what you wear. And if you only wear one thing with your dab of Chanel No. 5 - make sure it’s your seat belt.

- Jan Sayer 2007

A Good Frock Does Wonders

By Jan Sayer