The Princess, the Mum and a Woman’s Day
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It was all in the timing, upon reflection.
If it had happened on a weekday, I would have no story to tell and would have continued on—oblivious to a sliding door moment that altered my path. I would have been deceived by false intent and protected from my own banality.
But Princess Diana didn’t die on a weekday. She died in a tragic car accident on a Sunday, and my subscription copy of Woman’s Day was already in the mail.
If you were one of the many Australians going to your newsagent on Monday 1 September 1997 to buy your weekly magazines—already heavy of heart at the shock of the news that Princess Diana had died in Paris at only 36 years of age the day before—you would have discovered that there were no Woman’s Day magazines.
In place was an announcement of their withdrawal of the issue whilst they put together a special edition commemorating Princess Diana.
Some may have thought this respectful—others may have been touched by the gesture—but after I checked my mailbox that day, the brick plinth with a metal slot that sat next to my driveway, I was neither.
I was at home that day with our 17-month-old toddler and 38 weeks pregnant with our second child.
I had set myself up nicely to avoid needing to go to the shops too often with a bread maker, milk delivery, and a subscription to the Woman’s Day magazine.
My mum and my Nana read this magazine, so for me it was a rite of passage to be at home with kids elevating my swollen ankles with the Woman’s Day resting on my burgeoning belly.
My inherited loyalty was tested that Monday, however, as l got to see the front cover of that Woman’s Day issue that never made its way to the broader readership.
Through the clear plastic wrap were two paparazzi photographs of Diana and her boyfriend Dodi with headlines reading “Aussie sailor: I SAW DI SEDUCE DODI: All the intimate details.”
Gulp! The role of the paparazzi in Diana’s death was already being reported in the media. I felt sick.
As the week unfolded, I became aware of what had happened to the greater distribution of the magazine and realised it was only posted copies that hadn’t been withdrawn. I was one of the small number of readers confronted with the stark reality of their complicity.
We were the audience who paid the magazine who paid the photographers who chased Princess Diana.
Now 22 years on and the same Woman’s Day was recently found to have breached the standard by the Australian Press Council for a headline that read “PALACE CONFIRMS THE MARRIAGE IS OVER! WHY HARRY WAS LEFT WITH NO CHOICE BUT TO END IT”.
In response to the finding, the publication responded with “readers expect a level of exaggeration in coverlines and headlines.”
Do we? Do we—the generation that have stood up to bullying, sexism, racism—think it’s okay for the media to exaggerate stories, even if they are of celebrities and Royals?
Then this ‘harsh’ admonishment from the body that regulates them… “The Council acknowledges that celebrity and gossip magazines are purchased for light entertainment, with readers not necessarily assuming that everything presented is factual.”
Oh, so it’s okay for the media to make-up stuff about someone because we assume it’s not factual and we’re entertained by it—right then.
I shudder at the thought of how Princess Diana would have fared in this social media age where we all have the ability to add to the narrative, and how it doesn’t take much for the villagers to come out brandishing their torches.
Those same people the Australia Press Council believe are able to separate fact from absolute bollocks are the ones online spewing vitriolic brain farts that are anything but factual or entertaining.
I can’t even bring myself to delve into the tragic deaths that can be attributed to this relentless, inaccurate and unwelcome attention.
Blurred lines, grey areas, a minefield for sure. For anyone who after reading this feels any sense of the monster we have created through our readership I know how you feel, and that is why on Monday 1 September 1997 I didn’t open the plastic postage sleeve of my Woman’s Day.
Instead, I cancelled my subscription and have never bought one since.
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