Day for a Queen : It’s No Bed of Roses for Princesses in Training for Jan. 1

Margarethe Bertelson Knoblock, etiquette coach to the Tournament of Roses Royal Court, prefers to call it a refresher course. Others might call it taking the thorns off the roses.

Whatever the name, learning how to be a Rose Queen is hard but exciting work for the fresh-faced Pasadena-area school girls who overnight have been elevated to celebrity status. (Before this week, they merely watched the Joan Rivers TV show. Wednesday they were on it.)

The princesses’ protocol training is under the direction of Knoblock, an elegant, willowy model who was Rose Queen in 1960. Knoblock, who has trained five previous Rose courts, wastes no time showing her troops why she is nicknamed “the drill instructor.”

Yawns, Baggy Hosiery

During their orientation, she admonished one princess not to yawn and told another to buy a smaller size of hose. “Your nylons are bagging,” she scolded. She then shared a neat trick for emergencies--pulling stocking ends under her toes to take up the slack.

Having outshone 870 others in a week of competition, the seven newly chosen princesses hardly had time to wipe away the tears of joy after the announcement Monday before beginning a hectic week of detailed training in queenship and the first of more than 100 public appearances, which will include the scrutiny of an estimated 125 million viewers during the parade and game on New Year’s Day.

Placed in the protective custody of the Tournament of Roses Assn., the girls-next-door were shuttled to beauty parlors, dressmakers, makeup counselors and shoe stores, where they were shampooed, tinted, gowned, lectured, cajoled, praised and mothered into looking and acting like royal girls next door.

“Protocol is serious business,” Patrick Lejeune, a produce broker and chairman of the association’s Queen and Court Selection Committee, told the seven girls who sat attentively during an orientation meeting, all smiles, curls and pearls on the stuffed sofas of Pasadena’s stately Tournament House.

“You aren’t just going to sit and look pretty. You are ambassadors for Pasadena who will be required to meet a great many people in a variety of situations,” Lejeune said, noting that they have a 97-year-old tradition to uphold.

“You will be expected to behave in a certain way, be on your best behavior at all times, show effervescence and look at the world like you are having an excellent time.”

Lejeune’s behavior is both benevolent and stern: He and the other queen makers must be both surrogate grandparents and talent agents.

The court selection committee assignment is coveted by the nonprofit association’s 800 volunteers. But it takes at least a decade of work to be selected for the rigorous job, which lasts up to two years.

Male Bastion

The selection panel is all-male and always has been, said a tournament spokesman; women were first allowed in the association 20 years ago and make up only 10% of the members. Lejeune and the others on the ten-member committee have already put in hundreds of hours since January on various royal court matters, from selecting the girls’ 14-piece wardrobe to ordering flowers.

The smallest details are not overlooked. For example, Lejeune’s wife Mary has just completed purchases for the court’s emergency travel bag. It’s crammed with bobby pins, aspirin, sun screen, smelling salts, Band-Aids, cough drops, hair spray, sewing kits, lint remover, nail glue, Scotch Tape and safety pins, among other essentials.

It took five days of brief interviews for the panel to ferret out the seven girls with the right mixture of academic achievement, poise, charm and smashing looks. The girls do not compete in talent contests or swimwear competition, as some beauty pageants do.

Yet More Judging

The seven continued to be judged throughout the week of court orientation. After spending the weekend in Newport Beach, where they are interviewing the girls in a more relaxed setting with their parents, the judges will select the Rose Queen on Tuesday. But the committeemen’s responsibilities won’t end there. For the next year, along with their wives, they will chaperon the court in appearances at civic clubs and schools, and on television.

As the seven princesses dutifully take notes in their red briefing notebooks, Knoblock gives dizzyingly detailed instructions to help them “feel comfortable with themselves” during their demanding year in the limelight:

Don’t chew ice at the head table; don’t drink alcohol or smoke; carry your purse on your left shoulder so you can shake hands easily; be open to the committee’s constructive criticism; sit with hands clasped and resting on the knees; be thoughtful of others; get plenty of rest; eat nutritiously so you “can push the energy button.” And be yourself.

Communication Problem

Knoblock explains: “Your job is to communicate and since most people will see you only for a moment, you must come across immediately.” She checks their handshakes. “Not a limp fish in the bunch,” she beams. She then shows them how to maneuver down the long, ornate Tournament House staircase without looking down. She illustrates walking elegantly without bobbing. Like ducklings trailing their mother across a lake, the princesses glide behind her, back and forth across the thick green carpeting.

The days pass quickly, but not the girls’ enthusiasm.

“I didn’t know the schedule was going to be so busy so soon, but it’s fun,” Kristin Harris said.

“There’s so much to do, it’s more like a job. But it is fun,” Sandra Waltrip added. “I’m losing some sleep, but there’s so much adrenaline.”

One afternoon, the court is taken under the wing of Mr. Bell and his style director, Mario Cabello. At The Gates, a trendy San Marino salon, they snip hair from the girls, analyze the strands in an exotic stress test machine and under a microscope.

Hair Conditioning

“We will tell you what you have to do to get your hair back into condition. Once it is balanced, even rain on parade day won’t ruin your hairdo,” promises Mr. Bell, who is in his sixth year working with the court.

To a visitor he confides that in past years, some princesses balked at hair style changes. One girl cried when he cut eight inches off her hair to make it shoulder length. “I don’t think we’ll have to do anything that drastic this year.”

As the princesses grimace and roll their eyes, Mario lifts their locks, ruffles their curls and points out defects and assets to his assistants.

“This is too yellow, it needs toning down . . . lighten the bangs so the forehead shows . . . we’re going to open up the face here . . . use a triangle line to show off those magnificent jawbones . . . she’s got gorgeous eyes . . . no, no, no, I don’t want it short . . . a wine cast would go nice here . . . this needs updating . . . we have to keep it moderately conservative, but not boring .”

Later, the young women parade in and out of the dressing rooms at I. Magnin’s in blue blazers, black and white houndstooth wool jackets, tan raincoats, red corduroy slacks, navy sweaters, periwinkle taffeta ball gowns, assorted blouses, shoes, purses and other accessories.

‘Really Been Fun’

Jennifer Telles, I. Magnin’s manager of the designer sportswear, said: “This has been really fun. They (the tournament committee) always want a traditional look for the girls, but this year they wanted to make more of a fashion statement.” Their wardrobe for the next year is brighter, passing up navy blues and solids for a slightly flashier style.

The $14,000-plus bill is picked up by the association, and no dart or wrinkle escapes the critical eyes of the committeemen and their wives gathered to pass final judgment.

The group is having trouble deciding what jacket will go with the emerald knit evening ensemble. Andrea Milligan shows it with the houndstooth jacket. “I like it,” she says, turning so they can see it better. “Too busy,” the committee decides.

She disappears in the dressing room and returns garbed in the blue jacket. “I like it,” she says. “Too sporty,” the committee decides.

Altering the Clothes

Because the clothes had to be ordered months ago, long before the court was chosen, there is much alteration work to do. Another problem crops up with the emerald sweater: The shoulder pads look like they belong under a football jersey.

Thelma Young, I. Magnin’s alterations manager who has been fitting Rose Bowl court wardrobes for 14 years, is not discouraged. Trimming the shoulder pads down is an easy task compared to the one she had the year all the princesses were too tall and the ball gowns too short.

Young notes that this court isn’t the most striking she has seen, but the princesses seem to be among the most personable. “Every day I work with them, they are more and more confident and are looking better and better.”

The next day at Tournament House, the court sits elbow to elbow in the upstairs Queen’s Room. Spread before them on a banquet table is a confusing smorgasbord of creams, toning lotions, astringents, nail polish, lip glosses, and eye powders that they must learn to artfully apply for the many unmerciful hours they will spend under lights.

Sue Cary-Zens, a 1974 Rose princess and makeup expert, explains that communications during public appearances is 70% makeup, wardrobe and coiffure.

Lots to Do

This first lesson is hurried because the court must also squeeze in practices on their speeches for a Tournament dinner; be fitted for Halloween costumes for visits to hospitalized children; brush up on table manners and rehearse for their coronation luncheon, among other things.

Cary-Zens, using one of the committeemen’s wives for a model, shows how to contour the face to bring out good features and hide bad ones: “I’d like you to think of powder as your best friend . . . I knew a woman who put white highlighting down the center of her nose trying to make her nose look longer. She looked like a skunk. . . .

“Extend your blusher back to the ear--no racing stripes, please . . . . It’s OK to use a lash curler. But be careful. I had a friend who pulled all her eyelashes out.”

The princesses groan in unison, but soon switch to excited exclamations as Lejeune stops by with yet another gift from the association: seven red silk pouches containing necklaces and earrings of simulated pearls.

Committeeman Raymond (Buzz) Davis, a retired Pasadena engineer, stops by with their tiaras. They are carefully set in a red velvet, hand-carved wooden traveling case that he has personally made for them in his home workshop--a beyond-the-call-of-duty touch that seems to crop up often as the tournament volunteers go about their work.

“This is better than Christmas,” says Princess Waltrip. “I could get used to this,” says Mary-Sandra Davis.