The wedding that created our next Queen, should have produced unprecedented interest from the average Brit. A conflict of church, royalty and the law and a complex web of death, adultery and money. A cast of players including the late Pope, Robert Mugabe, Joanna Lumley, Prince William and Tony Blair. Backdrops from a Bond film – ski slopes, The Vatican, a Scottish castle and . . . Windsor Town Hall.

The context was incredible enough, but the descent into British farce, should have been even more compelling. Can you imagine any other country in the world, where the heir to the throne trots down to the local registry office, while his Mum stays in to watch the tele? You couldn’t dream up the story line, even if you’d spent all day smoking joints in an Amsterdam bar.

Were the public hooked? Not really. Even the media barely feigned interest, keeping coverage of the actual event below that of your typical FA Cup Final. What occupied everyone far more, was the barnet of the new Princess of Wales. Well despite the jokes and nudges I admire Camilla’s stubborn refusal to change her 1970’s hairstyle, even for a royal wedding.

I think it’s appropriate that she has a faint look of an aged Charlie’s Angel. Getting out of helicopters, staying in exotic locations, never really having a proper job, and the mysterious phone calls from a bloke called Charlie. A natural stunt double for Farrah Fawcett-Majors. It fits perfectly with the whole royal thing. A bit like Coronation Street, it’s forever preserved in a comfortable time warp that generally lags 30 years behind the rest of the world.

Camilla has made a conscious decision. She knows she faces the classic marketing problem of an old brand with a long history. Should I stay on the shelf unchanged, hoping for someone to pick me up? Or go for a complete makeover like Ann Widdecombe? It’s the dilemma faced by Marmite, Kit-Kat, Heinz Baked Beans and others, every couple of years or so.

The problem with Ann is that she’s lost her brand essence, she’s gone for revolution not evolution. Previously, she refreshingly made no concessions regarding her visual appearance in the media, refusing to accommodate even the faint touch of a No. 7 lipstick. She coupled this with spectacular out-of-date pronouncements on the modern way of life, and I sort of admired her because she wouldn’t play the game. That was the differentiator, and that gave her some type of brand dignity.

With the loss of political power and the heady oxygen of minor celebrity status beckoning, she went for a makeover. The last chance bid to remain at the top flight, a bit like British Airways. It didn’t work there or at the Post Office, not because the re-design was wrong, but because it’s transparent and obvious to the public that they’re on their uppers. Authenticity has been lost and the whiff of desperation fills the air.

Conversely, I think Camilla has probably got it right. She’s softened the Farrah look, but hasn’t lost the essential 1970’s element of the styling. She’s kept the brand essence. Tinkering with the styling around the edges to make visual concessions, but never losing the integrity of the previous identity. Authentic Camilla – a marketing hero?

© Sue Nelson 2005