Chick Wit: A tiara fit for a wedding (or whatever)

Posted: May 08, 2011

Even a week later, I'm still excited about the royal wedding.

Go ahead, judge me.

I watch the reruns on the cable channels, and I bet I'm not alone. Menopausal women and 10-year-old girls are glued to those shows. They're like the best episode ever of Say Yes to the Dress, plus a kingdom and a cool blue sports car.

What's not to like?

I got a hot flash when the royal couple said their vows, which I guess is called a Royal Flush.

And now I talk about the royal wedding so much, I've become a royal pain in the you-know-what.

But it's understandable, isn't it? It's a historic event. Kate Middleton went from commoner to princess, and she did it with her natural hair color.

How do you swing that?

I thought fairy tales didn't come true, but they do. At least, sometimes. Kate kissed a frog, and he turned into a prince. I kissed a frog, and he turned into a jerk.

But I have hope.

I could become a princess, too.

If Prince William takes after his father, he's already in the market for an older, less attractive bride.


I was in New York at the time of the wedding, so Daughter Francesca and I got up at the crack of dawn and watched it, live. She made real scones from scratch, and I wore a tiara. The dogs slept through the entire ceremony.

They knew they'd catch it on rerun.

Or they thought that the wedding of two complete strangers, taking place an ocean away, simply had no relevance to them.


What do dogs know?

(Answer: Everything.)

If you're wondering where I got the tiara, it was in Greenwich Village, where Francesca and I found a store called Fantasy World. We thought it was a costume store, because its windows had mannequins dressed in witch and cop outfits.

We didn't notice that the witch's costume came with fishnets.

Or that the cop's came with extra handcuffs.

It didn't register at first that it was strange for the store to be open at 11 o'clock at night. And full of men.

Also it wasn't Halloween.

We went to the desk and asked the clerk, "Do you have any tiaras?"

And she asked us, "With penises?"

I'm not kidding.

This was verbatim. I exaggerate all the time, but Francesca never does, and she'll back me up. And that's when we realized that we weren't in a normal costume store, but some kind of sex costume store.

Yes, there are people who wear costumes for sex.

I'm guessing they all live in New York.

My advice? Stay home.

Evidently, they dress up as slutty cops, firefighters, nurses, doctors, and dentists. In Fantasy World, nobody's unemployed.

That's why it's a fantasy.

Maybe that's what gets these people excited. Their paycheck is on the way.

There's no aphrodisiac like being able to pay the bills.

But that's just me, and what do I know? I never dressed up to have sex. I dressed down.

Maybe that's where I went wrong.

OK, I dressed up as a wife, but I gather that's not as sexy as dressing up as a witch. Of course, I've been called a witch, and that's kind of confusing. I must've been a bad witch, instead of a good witch.

Or maybe it was the other way around.

Anyway, back to tiaras. Kate Middleton wore the Cartier "Halo" tiara, made of platinum and diamonds. It dates back to 1936 and is priceless.

I wore the Scottoline "PG-rated" tiara, which was fake platinum, with pink rhinestone letters that read BRIDE-TO-BE. It was made in China and cost $5.99.

You don't want to know what the penis tiara looks like.

Or maybe you do, but I'm not telling.

Lisa and Francesca's essays have been published in "My Nest Isn't Empty, It Just Has More Closet Space" and "Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog." Lisa's new novel, "Save Me" is available in bookstores now. Visit Lisa at

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