Marie sits up in bed, faced with her herd of ladies-in-waiting. She rises, they dress her as usual, placing each garment on her in ritualistic steps (
ugh,
this takes forever, she thinks) and when they're
gone, her hairdresser Léonard enters. "Good morning, Monsieur," she beams. "Make it huge today!"
"As your Majesty commands," he replies.
A while later, she stares at herself in the mirror, delighted with her towering style adorned with a fake bird, flowers, and feathers. "Oh, I love it!" she squeals. "Léonard, you've outdone yourself!"
"All in your service, Madame," he answers, with a bow. Once he leaves, it's off to a delicious breakfast. Her husband, Louis, smears whipped cream on his pudgy cheeks, devouring pastry after pastry; she only has a plain croissant and a cup of chocolate.
"Seriously, he's such a pig," the queen complains afterward to her best friends, Thérèse and Gabrielle. "I'm sure he likes food more than me; I mean, we still don't have kids."
"Who cares," Gabrielle laughs. "Let's look at some new fashions."
"Great idea," Marie exclaims. "I'll have the servants bring champagne and sweets."
Soon, the trio are seated on the queen's daybed, viewing bolt after bolt of elaborate fabric.
"Oh, I need a dress made of that pink silk," Marie remarks. "What do you two want?"
"The red satin, and the peach velvet, those black feathers, and the rose shoes," Gabrielle says, reaching for her third eclair.
After thinking a moment, Thérèse says quietly, "I'd like the blue silk and the white shoes, please."
"Wonderful choices, my dears! Madame Bertin,"
Marie says to the dressmaker, "I'd like to purchase all those items, as well as some white feathers, strands of diamonds and pearls for my hair, the green silk fan, and the yellow satin." She added to her friends, "If I don't have enough to cover the cost, I can always get Louis to give me extra money - he'll do anything to make me happy."
"Speaking of men, I can't wait for the masked ball in Paris tonight!" Gabrielle giggles.
"Oh, I know! It's going to be such a blast!" Marie enthuses.
"I'm certainly looking forward to it," Thérèse puts in.
A notion strikes Marie. "Why don't we relax and read some of those stupid pamphlets about me this afternoon, before we get ready?"
"Yes," Gabrielle replies, "they're so funny!"
An hour or two later, they're poring over the stories turned out by the Parisian gossip-mongers, all of them attacking the queen for imagined sins.
"They say you and I are a thing, Marie," Gabrielle chuckles. "Absurd, right?"
"Completely," the queen says, "particularly because you're with a new man nearly every month!"
Thérèse is serious. "How could they come up with something so malicious?"
"They can write anything, and people believe them," Gabrielle answers. "That's the way it goes."
"I don't care anyway," Marie declares. "They're just putting words on a page - it's not going to change anything, as if the country needed changing."
"But I've heard the peasants are starving because of the bread shortage," Thérèse says. "Shouldn't we do something about that?"
"Whatever, they're probably fine, and if they have no bread, let them eat cake! We'll have enough leftovers in this room to feed the whole nation," Marie says, gesturing to the trays of sweets on the table beside them. "That is, if Gabrielle doesn't polish it all off!"
The three erupt into giggles.
Late that night, they hop into the queen's carriage and head to the ball. Descending the steps of the Opera, they arrive on the dance floor. Thérèse is swept away by a dashing young nobleman, while Gabrielle and Marie sip champagne and wait for partners.
Suddenly, Gabrielle squeezes Marie's hand. "Don't look now, but that super hot Swedish guy, Count Axel Fersen, is coming your way."
He arrives, greeting them with a gallant smile, as Gabrielle is led to the floor by a young viscount. Just before she goes, she whispers to Marie. "Have fun."
Marie and Axel gaze at each other for a moment, then he extends his hand. "May I have this dance, Madame?"
"You may," she answers, with a coquettish grin.
After hours of dancing, drinking, and flirtation galore, the trio arrive back at the palace very early in the morning. Marie's maids prepare her for bed, and as she lies beside her snoring spouse, her last thought before falling asleep is:
This was a perfect day!
This little tale is summarizes the popular understanding of what Marie Antoinette's life was like as queen, and I couldn't resist spoofing the absurdities. The account is, in reality, entirely incorrect, with the exception of two facts: she did indeed eat less than her husband, and the pamphleteers did churn out false reports about her. The rest is foolish fabrication, based on Sofia Coppola's 2006 film
Marie Antoinette (from which all the images are taken). Despite the stunning costumes and scenery, the movie is a mockery of the true Antoinette, and if you wish to discover the truth, I kindly suggest that you read my book,
The Martyr-Queen. :)
