The Coronation of King Freddie

T he crown in the sale, worn on the Magic Tour in 1986, is what I called the costume prop. It’s an effect, which was a theme of Freddie’s. He used garments for effect, to break down that barrier you get in huge stadiums. He would send himself up, play at dressing up, putting on a silly wig, or waving a flag from every country they were in, to reach across to the audience. It was classic Freddie.

The day of Live Aid, I checked in with him to say, “Okay, what are you going to wear? Is there anything I can get for you? What are you thinking?” He said, “I’m just going to keep it simple, vest, jeans.” Because that’s what everybody watching was wearing on a hot summer’s day. He wanted to connect with the vast stadium audience.

He was a performer. At home, he was so relaxed and quite pleasantly, politely shy. But as soon as he stepped out on stage, like all the great singers, he had a performance persona. I stood in the wings at Wembley and other stadium shows, and the size, heat and absolute energy of the audience was terrifying. But he would just focus and dance it through. He was so very concentrated when performing.

I remember standing with Freddie in a hotel in Paris, having just delivered the crown and cloak. He stood in the foyer of this magnificent hotel on the Champs-Élysées and outside was an entourage of black limousines and outriders, huge television crews, fans behind barriers. He just stood quietly, looking at it all, and said, “Right, as soon as I go out there, I’m theirs.” And out he stepped.

I remember standing next to him with the crown sitting in a Sainsbury’s cardboard box, with the spike broken off. We had flown it over in a hurry at Freddie’s request, but British Airways wouldn’t allow us to take it on as hand luggage, so into the hold it went. When it came through at the other end, it was without its spike.

They were at rehearsals in Sweden when I got the call. He felt the show’s ending was not quite right. “I need something just to punch out. I’d like a crown and a cloak… don’t laugh! I just think it would work. Can you do it, Diana?” I said: “Are we doing this for real, or a send-up?” He replied, “A real crown. Let’s give it a grandiose, Napoleonic coronation.”

It was one of the rare occasions when it was just an instruction on the phone, without any fitting. He phoned me up on the Sunday and we were flying out on the Friday. So, it was a bit of a rush job.

The cloak was handstitched by anybody I could find that week to work on it. I had a sewing bee, a group of people helping me make outfits, in my studio stitching on all the fleur-de-lis decorative symbols and inserting all the little fake ermine tails, which were vintage pieces that I had rescued. Then I gave instructions by fax, with sketches, to my props maker for the crown. I said, “Aim toward the coronation crown; four spires, a dome in the middle, and jewelled.” I had all of Freddie’s measurements, so I asked him to pad it out, go slightly larger and put a fur trim on it in case I had to alter it.

Pre-order you copy of Freddie Mercury: A World of His Own at Hatchards, the exclusive online retailer for this publication. The book will also be available to purchase in Sotheby’s New Bond Street galleries from 4 August–13 September.