I Lived Like the Queen for a Week
I'm not obsessed with the British royal family, but I'd describe my interest level as "more than casual." I got up before dawn in 2011 to watch Prince William marry Kate Middleton, I can draw up a reasonably accurate family tree from memory, and despite never having been to England I've amassed quite a collection of royal memorabilia, including a cardboard mask of the Queen's face.
So when a fellow Cosmopolitan.com editor put out a call for volunteers to experiment living like Queen Elizabeth II for a week, I joked that I'd do it if I could have corgis. I figured it would be easy - what does the Queen even do all day that I don't already know about?
A lot, as it turns out. I began my journey by attending a tea service the Plaza Hotel with royal expert Robert Lacey, whose latest book The Crown is the official companion to the Netflix series of the same name. Although I knew a few of the basics - the corgis, her love for equestrianism - Lacey gave me a ton of additional options to include in my schedule. Between cocktails, racing pigeons, and investitures, I'd be a royal in no time.
Day 1: Sitting for an Official Portrait
Dress, Simlu ($17, amazon.com); Crown, Tinsky ($9, amazon.com); Glasses, Thrifted; Necklace, Thrifted; Bracelet, Thrifted; Earrings, Anne Klein ($10, Bolton's); White Gloves, Thrifted
As the reigning monarch of a world power, the Queen has had to sit for many portraits in her lifetime. I enlisted my very talented friend, Jon, as the artist, and he'd already sent me a Pinterest board's worth of royal inspiration.
Almost immediately, I derailed the activity with my distinct lack of royal poise. The original plan was to go over to Jon's house after picking up a canvas and some paints. What actually happened is that Jon and I went barhopping the night before and watched Black Mirror till 4 a.m., at which point he let me sleep over on his couch. This meant that I did not buy art supplies - and also looked hungover when we did test shots.
After wiping off the previous night's mascara, Jon made coffee, and I was arranged in makeshift royal finery. The winning combination was a deep red curtain worn as a cape, a blue bedsheet draped over my legs like a dress, some plastic gold chains, and a faux-fur collar of mysterious origin.
