Princesses Behaving Badly

by Linda Rodriguez McRobbie

  It’s fitting that Gloria wore Marie Antoinette’s pearl tiara at her husband’s birthday. Like the famous French queen, the fashionable Princess TNT has a flair for excess and loves a good party. But unlike her guillotined counterpart, Gloria faced devastation and kept her head. Does she miss the ’80s? Probably a little. But she doesn’t regret what she called her “spoiled brat” years: “I think it’s the privilege of youth to be curious, fun-loving, even wild. I also think that every age has its own behavior,” she told W magazine in 2012. “You don’t want to behave like you’re 70 when you’re in your 20s. And vice versa.”

  PRINCESS EXCESS

  Does being a princess automatically come with an insatiable need for worldly goods? Yes, at least according to the examples of these regal shopaholics.

  MARIE AUGUSTE VON THURN UND TAXIS

  Wife of the ruler of a powerful German principality, Princess Marie Auguste von Thurn und Taxis was in many ways not your typical eighteenth-century royal lady. She was a skilled political operator who used intrigues, covert diplomacy, and her feminine wiles to influence the court. She could be forthright and passionate, loudly speaking her mind on matters of the state. Her husband became so irritated at her influence that he made her promise, in writing, not to meddle.

  But Marie Auguste was stereotypical in one sense: she liked pretty clothes. Her closet contained some 228 dresses, including seven state gowns, those massive confections of sumptuous fabrics, frilly lace, and all kinds of frothy trimmings. The most expensive cost 500 florins, more than 30 times the annual income of a servant in her court. Her jewelry collection was valued at 89,000 florins, an astronomical sum equal to a year’s wages for more than 5,000 people.

  Marie Auguste used her wardrobe and her jewelry to impress upon the court her importance and her rank; it was as much a part of her efforts to influence policy and policymakers as any of the intrigues she may have conducted. But it didn’t make her terribly popular with her subjects, especially because, at least in part, it was the country’s money she was spending. Moreover, she couldn’t afford all that stuff. When she died in 1756, she owed 50,402 florins to various shopkeepers, dressmakers, and craftsmen, as well as to her own put-upon servants.

  ELIZABETH I OF RUSSIA

  Marie Auguste’s wardrobe was positively empty compared to that of her contemporary, Empress Elizabeth I of Russia. And speaking of empty, so was Russia’s treasury.

  That’s because Elizabeth was rumored to have spent it all. When she died, she was survived by 15,000 dresses, not to mention the countless sets of men’s clothing she liked to wear, two trunks full of stockings, and several thousand pairs of shoes. Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth changed clothes multiple times a day and never wore the same outfit twice. She also took pains to ensure that of all the ladies at court, she was the most fashionable. She passed laws requiring foreign fabric salesmen to offer her first dibs, on pain of arrest. Wearing the same hairstyle or even a similar accessory or ensemble as the empress would spark her anger, so much so that she sometimes turned violent.

  Elizabeth hosted two balls every week, and her dinners were perhaps the best place to witness her conspicuous consumption. She had more silver and gold tableware made during her reign than any other Russian ruler. And gracing those settings were fresh fruits, a rarity in those days, and wine and champagne by the bucketload.

  That taste for the finer things set the tone for Elizabeth’s court. Her courtiers fancied diamond-studded buttons, buckles, and epaulettes; they ordered their suits by the dozen and dressed their own servants in gold cloth. Elizabeth did have her good points—she was an intelligent woman, a keen diplomat, and a pacifist who maintained that she would never sign a death warrant (and she didn’t). Moreover, her demand for exotic and luxury goods stimulated the growth of infrastructure, such as the postal service. Still, she spent money as if it didn’t come from the blood, sweat, and tears of her subjects, and when she died in 1762, she was up to her eyeballs in debt.

  MAHA AL-SUDAIRI

  Modern-day princess Maha Al-Sudairi has a taste for the finer things—she just doesn’t like paying for them. In June 2012, she was nearly arrested in Paris after she and her retinue of 60 servants were caught trying to sneak out of the exclusive five-star Shangri-la Hotel at 3:30 in the morning without paying their $8 million tab. It may have been the fleet of limousines parked at the curb that tipped off management that she was doing a runner.

  The ex-wife of Saudi Arabian crown prince Nayef bin Abdulaziz had been staying in the hotel since December, when she’d taken over the entire forty-first floor. But the hotel had to eat the cost of her stay. When nabbed trying to skip out, the princess claimed diplomatic immunity, leaving Parisian police with their hands tied. She decamped to another five-star hotel, the Royal Monceau, this one owned by a friend of the family.

  It wasn’t the only time the princess racked up a huge bill and refused to pony up. In June 2009 she also claimed diplomatic immunity after amassing a stunning $24.2 million in unpaid shopping receipts, including $94,000 on lingerie alone. That time, too, the French were left holding the bag.

  SRIRASMI OF THAILAND

  Princess Srirasmi has lovely breasts, and her husband really likes their dog. These two facts collided when Prince Vajiralongkorn, Thailand’s crown prince, threw a lavish birthday party for Foo Foo, their fluffy white poodle, and Princess Srirasmi was seen celebrating in nothing but a G-string and a hat (with strains of George Michael’s “Careless Whisper” audible in the background). Notably, everyone else—including the dog—was fully clothed. Also notably, Foo Foo holds the rank of air chief marshal in Thailand.

  The topless pooch-party incident would have remained a private affair had the whole thing not been caught on video, with the footage somehow finding its way to an Australian TV station in 2009. Criticism of the royal family is outlawed in Thailand, but the video drew the ire of the nation that will inherit these charming people as rulers when the ailing King Bhumibol Adulyadej dies. Evidently, Thai officials have long expressed concerns that the heir apparent is less than suited for the task of ruling the country.

  As you might expect from a woman who hangs out at her dog’s birthday party in her own birthday suit, this wasn’t the only time Princess Srirasmi made international headlines. In October 2012, she upheld her reputation for excess when she descended on an English antiques center and spent $40,000 during an eight-hour shopping spree that saw her literally stripping the shelves. Most items only cost between $15 and $60—that’s a lot of china dogs and silver tea services.

  Caroline of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel

  THE PRINCESS WHO DIDN’T WASH

  MAY 17, 1768–AUGUST 7, 1821

  BRITAIN AND VARIOUS CONTINENTAL TOURIST SPOTS

  George, Prince of Wales, met his intended bride, Princess Caroline of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, for the first time two days before their marriage. Etiquette demanded that he embrace her, which he did—then recoiled and fled the room, crying to his servant, “I am not well; pray get me a glass of brandy.” He stayed drunk for the next three days. The relationship went downhill from there.

  Nobody knows what it was about Caroline that turned off the prince so violently at that introduction. She wasn’t storybook beautiful, but she certainly wasn’t runaway-and-get-drunk ugly. And though she was known for being less than dedicated to her personal hygiene, contemporary accounts claim that she’d been groomed particularly well for the meeting. Nevertheless, the two had barely exchanged conversation before George decided she was his intellectual and social inferior, a woman to be endured, not enjoyed. And the prince’s good opinion, once lost, was lost forever.

  Not that he was any catch, either. “Prinney,” as the 32-year-old prince was widely (and absurdly) known, was vain and snobbish but could be extremely charming when he wanted to be. He was also a corset-wearing drunk who would later tip the scales at more than 240 pounds. A terrible gambler and talented spender, he was always in debt. And then there was the little detail tha
t he was already married, and had been for 10 years, to the very patient Maria Fitzherbert.

  None of that mattered a bit in the royal marriage market. Mrs. Fitzherbert was a commoner and, even worse for the Protestant crown, a Catholic; the pair had wed without the king’s consent, so technically the marriage didn’t count. And what did a few extra pounds and an awful personality matter next to the fact that he’d be king? By royal logic, the prince was the most eligible bachelor in Europe.

  KISSING COUSINS

  Prinney needed to get hitched—and fast. By 1794, he was an incredible £650,000 in debt (more than $40 million today), having spent wildly on art, building projects, fancy clothing, wine, and racehorses. Crisis hit when several angry tradesmen to whom he owed money filed a petition demanding payment. Parliament would agree to pay the debts only if the prince married. No one, least of all Prinney, cared who the bride was, as long as she was a princess, a Protestant, and in possession of a pulse.

  Princess Caroline, the extremely available daughter of a powerful German duke, was the prince’s first cousin. It’s likely that hers was the first name mentioned and that Prinney, anxious to get out from under his weighty debt, seized on it. Had he done even the slightest bit of homework on his would-be wife, perhaps the whole farcical tragedy that followed would have been avoided. Because, unfortunately, his 26-year-old cousin was the rotund embodiment of everything he loathed.

  Though good-natured, Caroline was untidy, graceless, and chubby. She was also loud, vulgar, and devoid of tact or discretion. She liked to flirt, earning her a reputation as “very loose” and guilty of “indecent conduct.” She wasn’t stupid, exactly, but she was shallow. She loved gossip, asked impertinent questions, had a crude sense of humor, and was often childish and disrespectful. Adding to this pretty picture, Caroline didn’t wash, or at least not enough; her undergarments, too, went overly long between lauderings. Were there ever two people more ill-suited for each other?

  WORST. MARRIAGE. EVER.

  Things only got worse after their first meeting. Once the prince beat his hasty retreat, Caroline declared that he was fatter than in his portrait. At dinner that night, she was her worst possible self (trying to be clever but coming off as unhinged), as was Prinney (cold, rude, and drunk). But the show had to go on, and the couple was married two days later, on April 8, 1795. According to contemporary reports, the bridegroom looked “like death” and was obviously wasted; weepy and loud, he had to be held up by his groomsmen. According to Caroline, he spent their wedding night passed out in the fireplace. They went on their honeymoon with all of his “constantly drunk and dirty” mates, plus his mistress to boot.

  Surprisingly, the pair did manage to get on well enough for Caroline to become pregnant almost immediately, though the birth of their daughter Charlotte, on January 7, 1796, did little to foster a rapprochement. Three days after she was born, George made out a new will leaving everything to his “wife” (dear Mrs. Fitzherbert) and “one shilling” to Caroline.

  By June 1796, Prinney’s hatred of Caroline was intractable. “My abhorrence of her is such … that I shudder at the very thoughts of sitting at the same table as her, or even being under the same roof,” he wrote. The feeling was mutual. Just a year later, they officially separated. But what God and country had joined, no man could put asunder; neither the king nor Parliament would grant permission to divorce. Protestants (ironically, see Anne Boleyn) took divorce very seriously, and the marriage was important diplomatically. They were stuck with each other.

  Of the two of them, Prinney was undoubtedly better off. As a male royal, it was expected that he would have mistresses. But for Caroline, adultery would mean a wealth-stripping split. That left her in a delicate position, which was particularly difficult for a woman with no sense of delicacy whatsoever.

  European courts practically ran on rumor, and Caroline’s behavior did little to stop the chatter. She was a big fan of the plunging neckline—as in, nipples out—and appeared to apply her makeup with a trowel. She could be a charming hostess but was also an incorrigible flirt who sometimes disappeared for hours with a gentleman friend, leaving her other guests to try to politely ignore her absence. Even worse, Caroline allegedly boasted that she took a “bedfellow” whenever she wanted and “the Prince paid for all.” Sprinkled liberally with this kind of manure, rumors quickly sprouted that the princess was conducting several affairs. For a while it was just talk, but then Caroline gave the prince almost the scandal he needed to divorce her.

  Caroline had a weird habit of collecting babies. To her credit, she seemed chiefly concerned with finding good homes for the foundlings. But in 1802, she adopted a baby boy named William Austin, known thereafter as Willikin, and bizarrely pretended that he was her own. Why she thought it would be funny to say so is unclear, but it’s likely she just wanted to cause a fuss. Her allies, including her father-in-law, King George III, dismissed the stories of a bastard child as idle talk, and her foes could prove nothing because there was nothing to prove.

  But by 1806, Caroline had committed a critical error: she made enemies of the Douglases, her former friends and neighbors. It was to Lady Douglas that Caroline first pretended that Willikin was her child. After a few months of close friendship, however, Caroline grew bored with the couple and was rude when Lady Douglas came to call. When Lady Douglas wrote to Caroline implying that she had secrets about the princess she was willing to spill, Caroline reacted in a spectacularly ill-considered fashion. She sent her former friend obscene and harassing “anonymous” letters featuring poorly drawn pictures of Lady D performing a sex act. The Douglases were quite sure the letters were from Caroline—at least one bore her royal seal.

  The offended Douglases (who, it should be noted, were also perpetually broke) marched straight to the prince and made it clear they would swear that Willikin was Caroline’s bastard child. For good measure, Lady Douglas even accused the princess of trying to touch and kiss her inappropriately. Armed with such evidence, the prince demanded an investigation into his estranged wife’s supposed infidelity. The ensuing “Delicate Investigation,” as it was called, was conducted by a secret government committee. Witnesses included everyone from Caroline’s footman to her portrait painter, Thomas Lawrence. Ultimately, Willikin’s real mother testified that she’d indeed given him up to the princess when he was four months old, and the commission had no choice but to clear Caroline of all accusations. Prinney wouldn’t get his divorce so easily.

  Caroline had also won another decision, this one in the court of public opinion. Because the investigation was meant to be secret, it was, of course, common knowledge among the gossips at court. Details filtered down through the newspapers in a series of leaked documents. Caroline won the sympathy of the British public by portraying herself as a maligned wife and mother who was denied access to her child. But most of her support came because everyone hated Prinney. The British people and press had no use for fools, especially fat drunken ones who wasted taxpayer money on mistresses and wine. Novelist Jane Austen, writing in 1813 about Caroline, summed it up best: “Poor woman, I shall support her as long as I can because she is a woman and because I hate her husband.”

  LIFE ON THE LAM

  However much the public loved Caroline, her aristocratic peers did not. Her social isolation was nearly complete after King George III was declared insane in 1811; the prince officially then became regent, which meant that friendship with Caroline was a political liability for anyone who wanted to be received at court. Moreover, she had committed the one sin that fashionable English society could not forgive: she’d become a bore. Caroline’s exasperated ladies-in-waiting were fed up hearing about how she’d been monstrously treated by the royal family, how she hated them, and the various creative ways she’d like to see them die. (Sometimes after dinner, Caroline would spend the evening sticking pins into a wax doll made to look like the prince, before melting it over the fire. This same behavior would have gotten her beheaded had she lived in Anne Bol
eyn’s day; see “The Sorceress Princesses, this page.) In August 1814, Caroline left England, spending the next six years traveling. In Geneva that October, the now blowsy woman of 46 embarrassed herself and everyone around her by attending a ball in her honor “dressed en Vénus, or rather not dressed further than the waist.” The next year, an English aristocrat who met Caroline in Genoa described her as a “fat woman of fifty years of age, short, plump and high colored,” wearing a “pink bodice cut very low and a short white skirt which hardly came below her knees.” Another recalled her black wig and “girl’s white frock” cut “disgustingly low” to her stomach.

  Caroline bounced around Europe and the Mediterranean, sometimes received by aristocratic houses but more often snubbed, especially as stories of her strange behavior spread. Having lost the last of her respectable entourage by the end of 1815, she was attended by a ragtag group of hangers-on and adventurers, itinerant show players and musicians, and scandalous persons of low birth. She engaged in affairs wildly and publicly, canoodling with everyone from the king of Naples (brother-in-law of Napoleon and therefore an enemy to England) to her Italian valet, or so the gossips said. So complete was her break with the court that no official word was sent of her daughter Charlotte’s marriage on May 2, 1816. When Charlotte died in childbirth on November 6, 1817, Caroline, then living in an Italian villa on Lake Como, found out by reading about the tragedy in the newspaper.