Mistress of the Robes: The Royal Dresser Reflects on Decades of Outfitting the Queen

“Get yourself a cup of tea, sit down, put your feet up, and let me take you on a magical journey,” urges Angela Kelly in The Other Side of the Coin: The Queen, the Dresser and the Wardrobe (Harper), a delightfully engaging book from Queen Elizabeth II’s personal assistant and senior dresser that reveals the meticulous planning that goes into producing and coordinating Her Majesty’s iconic looks. Kelly and her royal mistress appear to enjoy a respectful complicity. Initially self-conscious about her broad Liverpudlian accent, Kelly decided that she needed elocution lessons, and who better than Her Majesty to provide instruction? The queen suggested furious as the first experiment. “Fee-or-ree-ous,’’ enunciated Her Majesty. “Fyer-ri-ous,” countered Kelly, at which point they both decided to leave well enough alone.

Kelly has collaborated with the designer Stewart Parvin MVO and the milliner Stella McLaren, and since 2001 frequently designs the ensembles herself (working with a team of in-palace seamstresses): Gutsy colors by day ensure the diminutive wearer is the cynosure of all eyes, and pale hues for evening are a foil to the magnificence of the royal jewels. We learn that Her Majesty is an avid stargazer and that the feisty Duke of Edinburgh can always be relied upon for an unvarnished assessment of controversial styles. (“Is that the new material for the sofa?”) The queen “doesn’t mind temporary discomfort when it is so important for her to ‘look the part,’ ” although substantial beading is usually concentrated on the front or side of gala evening dresses so that she doesn’t have to sit on it, and stiff new shoes are worn in by none other than Kelly herself, who luckily shares her royal mistress’s shoe size. Priceless.

Below, an exclusive excerpt from the new book.

Her Majesty and I often have fun together, especially when we’re away on a Royal Tour and I have the luxury of some spare time. Some time ago, in October 1996, Her Majesty went on a State Visit to Thailand and, as well as the beautiful landscape and stunning local scenery, one personal memory will stay with me for ever.

In the weeks leading up to that trip, I was preoccupied with preparing The Queen’s outfits—on this occasion many vibrant lightweight silks because of the humid weather conditions—and I’d been so busy I’d simply run out of time to get to a hairdresser to refresh my roots. While I was reading the programme of engagements for the trip, I noticed there would be a market just across from the Royal Palace where we were to stay in Bangkok, and I mentioned to The Queen that I was planning to nip to a chemist in the market to buy a box of hair dye. I thought Ian Carmichael, The Queen’s Hairdresser, should be able to colour my hair, no problem, while Her Majesty was out for a whole day on one of her engagements. The Queen was surprised by my plan, and insisted that it would be impossible because the box of hair colour would have no English instructions. I told her not to worry, and that it would be just fine, as the instructions are always the same, no matter what country you are in. I had to excuse myself quickly on that occasion so that The Queen did not see my smile—for I was coming up with a sneaky plan . . .

When we arrived in Thailand, it was just as humid as we’d anticipated but everyone was so friendly and accommodating that everything went smoothly. A couple of days into the tour, Her Majesty and The Duke of Edinburgh were due to attend a Royal Barge Procession of 2,000 oarsmen dressed in traditional costumes, manning fifty-two barges, watching from the banks of the Chao Phraya river, so I thought this would be the perfect time to carry out my plan. That morning, I told The Queen I was going to the market to collect my hair dye, and she again told me she thought it would be a big mistake. While Her Majesty was out at her engagements, and once I’d finished all my duties, I let Ian in on my cunning plan: I had no intention of getting my hair done in Thailand—I was there to work. Before we’d left England, though, I had been to Accessorize and found a vibrant purple hairpiece made with fake hair. Ian knows my sense of humour, so he was more than happy to help and we spent some time attaching it in various ways to my head, to make sure it looked as realistic as possible.

A few hours later, when The Queen returned from her engagement, she started to tell me enthusiastically about what a splendid time she’d had and all the interesting people she’d met. She did not notice my new purple hair, so I pulled the piece slightly further forward on my head, but Her Majesty still didn’t notice and kept talking about her day. I realised I had to do something dramatic, so I waited until she’d stopped talking, turned with the most sorrowful look and said, ‘Your Majesty! Look what’s happened! Look at the colour of my hair!’ I even started to pull the purple strands out, saying, ‘Look, my hair is falling out!’

The Queen looked flabbergasted for a moment, then trying to contain her laughter, Her Majesty exclaimed, ‘Ian! What have you done to her hair?!’

Everyone heard the commotion but all I could do was laugh. The Queen was chuckling quietly to herself as she told me to go away. I’ll never know how I got away with it, but Her Majesty has quite a sense of humour.

Kelly's day-to-day duties are mainly focused on the Queen's outfits. But occasionally, she is asked to assist with more unusual projects. In her new book, she documents the meticulous recreation of the royal christening gown, which had been in use for 163 years.

Excerpted from The Other Side of the Coin by Angela Kelly (HarperCollins, $35.00)

Originally Appeared on Vogue