Accompanying her husband to Windsor Castle to meet the English royal family, Melania Trump wore a wide-brimmed hat, successfully obscuring her face once more

Melania Trump in Windsor. Photo: Reuters

A hat is not just a headwear; it can be a portable alibi for a face that has seen too much and wholly irresistible to visceral loathing. It certainly is in the case of Melania Trump when she turned up at Windsor Castle yesterday to meet the British royal family. You did not quite see her; you saw the hat, a structured chapeau with a wide, down-turned brim in the colour of prune juice pretending to be Fanta grape. It had a crown of a boater and the brim of a 斗笠 (douli) or a farmer’s hat, especially a style used in Vietnam. In photos circulating online, much of her face was obscured, even her already smokily made-up eyes. Princes of Wales Catherine appeared taller than Mrs Trump, even when both women were in stilettoes so high they are uncommon these days, and when she spoke to FLOTUS, she had to look downwards at an obstructive brim the equivalent of a frown.

This is where the paradox of high visibility and self-evident concealment needs unpacking. Mrs Trump’s typical ‘full beat’ makeup—the smokey eye, the cheekbones shaded to look sculpted, the flawless foundation—is designed for maximum visibility and photographic impact. She was groomed for the spotlight, especially in a Royal Borough, with the world’s paparazzi and their zoom lenses in hand. The hat, however, did the opposite. It physically obscured the very features that her makeup was designed to enhance. This created a strange paradox: she was dressed to be seen, but her face was intentionally hidden. By blocking her eyes, the hat effectively made her unreadable. The only thing more conspicuous than her look was the mystery of what she was trying to conceal. Was she deeply unwilling to participate in the task she was expected to uphold, just as she was irascibly reticent to be involved in the decoration of the White House for Christmas during her husband’s chaotic first term?

She was groomed for the spotlight, especially in a Royal Borough, with the world’s paparazzi and their zoom lenses in hand. The hat, however, did the opposite

Melania Trump did not only wear the hat on the crown estate, as seen in the numerous photos circulating online; she wore it indoors. This was, to many, the most protocol-defying aspect of her hat choice. While hats are a common and accepted part of formal day-time attire for women at British royal events, the general rule of etiquette is that they are removed upon entering a building, especially a private residence like a castle. This is particularly true for meals, banquets, and other indoor gatherings where a large hat would obstruct views or be cumbersome. Queen Camilla, however, removed hers—a fairly large chapeau, but with a brim upturned or tipped on the left. Her face was not in any way blocked and the hat came off once she was within castle walls. This highlights a crucial distinction in the very purpose of royal millinery. A core tenet is that the wearer must be easily recognizable to the public. The Queen’s hats are designed to frame her face, never to hide it. Mrs Trump, even indoors, kept hers in strategic absence.

In all likelihood, the hat kept its place tenaciously because it was never meant to come off. Mrs Trump’s fans claimed that royal etiquette for women and their hats are a little less rigid. They explained that a woman’s hat is often considered a part of her outfit and isn’t required to be removed indoors at formal day events. However, there’s a strong, unwritten sub-rule: a hat should not obstruct the view of others or make a woman seem unapproachable. Unlike Princess Kate, Mrs Trump was not wearing a fascinator. If the Queen could remove her clearly more complicated headwear, why not FLOTUS? One simple answer: she did not want to. The fact that the Queen was able to remove her hat perfectly proves that Mr Trump’s choice was not a matter of impracticality, but a matter of intent. It is the same reason that she wore that hat during her husband’s inauguration, apart from making it an obstacle to his kiss.

Two royals and a commoner in their hats. Photo: PA Media

The media has enthusiastically described Mrs Trump’s clothing and millinery choices as “fashion diplomacy”. Her appearance was more a passing tilt of the wide brim to irony. On that historic estate that dates back to William the Conqueror, she stood as a leader’s spouse widely regarded as not following the very protocols that diplomacy is built on. Diplomatic fashion is about showing deference and respect. It’s using clothing to build bridges and signal a shared understanding of formality and tradition. Since a more gilded age, diplomatic fashion is about showing deference and respect and to build bridges and signal a shared understanding of formality and tradition. A more modern, and sometimes controversial, “new view” of diplomatic fashion uses clothing to project a nation’s power and identity. Melania Trump’s soft power in a strong suit and a structured hat served as a visual representation of the Trump administration’s we-don’t-care-what-others-say policies.

In an administration defined by its “New View”—rejection of norms and its contradictory messaging, Melania Trump’s hat stands as a final, definitive symbol. It was a single, obvious object containing all the paradoxes in sculptural splendor: the ‘America First’ rhetoric paired with an armor of European luxury (Maria Grazia Chiuri-era Dior?); the ‘Be Best’ campaign launched by a woman who said she didn’t care about Christmas; and the high-visibility role of a First Lady who seemed deeply unwilling to be seen, at home or abroad. The hat did not conceal her face so much as it announced the central truth of her public life: that she was there, she was seen, but she was never truly a part of it. This profound distance, even when she wanted to be a global figure, has a striking literary parallel. In the celebrated American novel Little Women, Jo March is more than a literary figure—she has a twin in Melania Trump.