Turning Girls Into Ladies

Six members of the Rose Parade’s royal court share the same first name--and it is Princess. Princess Katherine. Princess Kimberlee. Princess Lauren. Princess Rachel. Princess Shannon. Princess Stephanie.

The seventh is named Queen. Queen Caroline. She gets to wear a five-pound crown of sterling silver and cubic zirconium.

These royals, high school seniors all, are the jewels of Pasadena’s grandest tradition: the Rose Parade. Their elite sorority is best known for its perfect execution of the Parade Wave--lithe arm movements from atop a flowered float.

Behind this moment of glory--broadcast worldwide to 350 million people New Year’s Day--lies an awesome princess-making machine devoted to turning smart, modern girls into a peculiar 21st century novelty: old-fashioned young ladies.

The Tournament of Roses--the volunteer organization responsible for the Rose Parade and Rose Bowl game--expertly orchestrates the court’s 81-day reign, packing it with Rotary luncheons, Lawry’s Beef Bowl, a Goodyear blimp ride--150 appearances in all.

Relying on promo-hungry sponsors, the Tournament gives each member of its court a $3,000 wardrobe, beauty make-overs, etiquette training, speech coaching, dry-cleaning, portraiture and teeth whitening.

In return, the organization expects flawless performances from its gleaming girls, who learn the art of adult chitchat, stand with their feet in the “T-position,” deftly integrate the parade theme “Good Times” into virtually any conversation and, of course, glide six miles down Colorado Boulevard on parade day.

“I remember waking up in the morning when I was 5 years old and seeing the princesses on TV. I thought they were waving to me and I waved back,” Caroline Hsu said days before she was crowned queen. “Now I’m going to be on that float. I’m going to be waving.”

The making of a royal begins with her new name.

On the morning of Oct. 15, Stephanie Valenzuela, No. 902 out of 903 applicants, stood among 32 finalists on the steps of Wrigley Mansion, Tournament headquarters. A full one-third of all high school senior girls in the Pasadena area tried out.

Hundreds of family and friends cheered, the drum rolled. Photographers, tipped off to the winners beforehand, turned their lenses to Stephanie as her name, followed by six others, resounded.

It would be the last time for a while that Stephanie--who works at a mall shoe store and recently pierced her belly button--would be called Stephanie Valenzuela.

“I’d like to introduce Princess Stephanie,” said Tournament member Gordon Hamilton a few weeks later to the Pasadena Kiwanis. “She’s a world-class cheerleader, tutors children and wants to study child psychology.”

And herein lies the paradox of the Rose Court.

Princesses are selected for their sterling records of achievement, maturity and ambitious goals. They like to call themselves independent, determined young women. “We have brains behind these pretty faces,” said Princess Shannon Stockdale, who hopes to attend Yale next year.

Yet a 15-point “Royal Reminder” handout issues these instructions: “NEVER COMPLAIN (unless you and your safety are endangered)” and “always have a smile on your face and always be happy.”

Gifts of Shoes and Clothes

They dress the same wherever they go, much like a crew of flight attendants.

Macy’s, as Tournament officials remind audiences, donates 42 apparel items--including a black suit, six pairs of shoes and three purses--to each princess. The girls’ schedule indicates which of 27 outfit combinations they are to wear to each event.

Four hours after the princesses were chosen, they found themselves in a Macy’s fitting room where a rack of clothing awaited, sizes 2, 4, 6, 8 and 10. “But we don’t have anyone who is a 10,” said Tournament member Gloria Lopez.

Princess Rachel Frandsen of La Canada-Flintridge stood transfixed as a beaded black cocktail sheath dress smoothly fell over her lean runner’s body.

The last time Princess Rachel, one of 10 children in her devout Mormon family, got a new dress was for a sister’s wedding years ago. Before that, it was her eighth-grade graduation.

“Hand-me-downs is shopping for me” she said, hugging her boxes of new shoes.

The princess wardrobe can best be described as something the father of a 17-year-old would choose--if he could exercise absolute authority over his daughter’s closet. Indeed, the Queen and Court Committee includes two women and eight men.

“At least from a man’s perspective, it’s a bit paternalistic, maybe wanting to cover up these young ladies in some way, and maybe, to some extent, deny their sexuality,” said R. Scott Jenkins, 48, committee chairman.

Princess Katherine Stroud’s mother, Linda, diplomatically called the clothing for her ballerina daughter “not something a 17-year-old would choose.”

Or, as Princess Kimberlee Cordova said of the white canvas tennis shoes: “My grandma has those.”

Jenkins, managing partner of Hahn & Hahn, an old-line Pasadena law firm, left most of the wardrobe decisions he is responsible for to his wife, Cindy, reserving veto power for the most important outfit.

The periwinkle blue parade gowns arrived Oct. 23 with 15 layers of tulle and petticoats. But no straps. Jenkins, along with the perceptive court, foresaw disaster.

The princesses “are not busty, and they were concerned about holding the dress up, especially while doing the wave,” Jenkins said, decreeing that the girls would not go strapless.

Just the Right Shoulder Straps

The seamstress began pinning inch-wide strips of muslin over the girls’ shoulders to create a halter look.

“Too casual,” Jenkins said.

Over the shoulder? A definite no.

“I remember from prior years there was one girl who would be waving and every minute or two would pull her strap up, which I thought was unfortunate,” Jenkins said.

The solution?

Crisscross back straps. “It looks somewhat athletic. . . . It makes them look somewhat sturdy, more firm, somehow.”

Looking like a princess is one thing. Acting like one, however, takes professional help.

Pamela Hillings of Hillings Enterprises, Consultants in Business and Social Manners, is responsible for teaching fine dining and conversation.

“Always say ‘hello’ or ‘good evening.’ There is something about the word ‘hi’ that is just too informal,” a smiling Hillings told the princesses at their first Wrigley Mansion tutorial in mid-October.

The girls smiled back. They nodded.

At a cocktail party, “remember to keep your hands free for shaking,” Hillings said, still smiling. The girls smiled back. They nodded.

When it comes to utensils, hold the knife and fork “like a pencil and cut very delicately.”

Princess Lauren Tapp, 17, stopped smiling. She furrowed her brow.

“Is there cutting involved?” asked the 4.0 grade-point Marshall High School student, perhaps anticipating a fine-dining faux pas. “I cannot cut if my life depended on it.”

Not to worry; tender salmon would be served later that night at their debut dinner with Tournament executives. Even more important, Hillings continued, “is not to eat too much. You are there for conversation. Be a good guest.”

The princesses would leave many a meal hungry in weeks to come, only to devour cookies behind closed doors.

Linda Riemers, a onetime Pasadena Bullock’s Tea Room model and self-described “frustrated rose queen,” consults on poise, grace and carriage. Her lessons, she says, are required for any lady.

Keep your knees together, stand with your feet in a T-position, and always cross your legs at the ankle.

“If you cross your legs over each other, you can see thigh,” she said. “And if you can see thigh, you can see everything else.”

Joseph Probst, a professor of communications at Pasadena City College, is the court’s speech coach. The girls receive three college credits for their speaking duties.

In rehearsal before the debut dinner, Princess Lauren, who wants to attend Occidental College and aspires to be an attorney, described her selection as a “humongous honor.” At dinner, she called it a “huge honor.”

Princess Shannon’s introduction of a “little quote” became “little quotation” at dinner.

Subtle, but sharp improvements.

“All these little things, details, create an image,” Jenkins said. “It’s a very polished image--even for a 17-year-old girl.”

The Tournament thrives on perpetuating the princess fantasy for that part of America that loves a fairy tale with a happy ending.

Sure, girls these days spend Saturdays on the soccer field and ask for Erector sets for Christmas. Yet, when raising a girl, it’s hard to avoid the princess thing.

Target stores sell a pink bed pillow shaped like a crown. It’s easy to find T-shirts at Old Navy and Wal-Mart with “Princess” emblazoned across the chest--and these are for adults.

For the 8 and under set, princess-themed birthday parties are standard fare.

“What little girl hasn’t dreamed of being a princess?” asked Kelly Mack, an NBC-TV Channel 4 anchor who emceed one Tournament event. “Here in Pasadena they can grow up to be members of the royal court.”

The princesses were quick to choose from two options the Tournament offered for their formal shoes: a silver, strapped sandal with rhinestones or clear, plexiglass-heeled sandals.

“The clear ones,” Princess Stephanie said of the unanimous choice. “They are so Cinderella-y.”

Trying out for the princess role has long been a rite of passage for young women in Pasadena.

In the 1950s, ‘60s and ‘70s, every woman student at Pasadena City College was required to try out. Today, it’s the domain of high school seniors.

Few girls show up at Wrigley Mansion expecting to win a crown. “Everyone just wants to go to the dance,” one girl said of the Royal Ball, a kind of regional prom for court applicants in late September.

Requirements have changed little since officials formalized rules in 1930: A would-be princess must be between 17 and 21, live within the Pasadena Community College District, and never have been married.

One more criterion was added recently: Potential princesses must never have borne a child.

“Since we are a private organization, that’s the values we put in,” said Jenkins. “These young ladies are our ambassadors; they are carrying our values out to the community.”

Though the requirements are simple, some girls say the Tournament’s record on diversity can be a disincentive to try out.

They have studied court photos and done the calculations. In most of the past 12 years only one African American, one Asian and one Latino girl have been selected. Before that, the court was almost completely white.

“This is really not that big a deal at Muir [High School],” said applicant Rachel Cooper. “Our school is 70% African American, and we know that only one of us is going to be on the court every year.”

Queen Caroline’s mother, Grace Hsu, said her heart sank when Shannon Stockdale, whose mother is Japanese American, was named to the group before her daughter.

“I thought Carol was not going to have a chance,” Grace Hsu said. “There is usually just one Asian face on the court.”

But this year there are two, and Caroline is the first Chinese American queen. Princess Lauren is African American and Princesses Stephanie and Kimberlee are Latina--all examples, Jenkins said, of the Tournament’s commitment to diversity.

When judging entrants, the committee heavily weighs school achievement, civic involvement and personality. But the Tournament brand of beauty also matters.

“It’s a conservative look, an Ann Taylor look,” said Princess Kimberlee during final competition in October. “It’s like a Pasadena sophisticate.”

Not too old. Not too bold. Not too trendy.

“Probably hair that tends to go back and be somewhat rounded, not sculpted, but not flat,” Jenkins said. “I think pearls . . . and my wife will kill me for this, but I like pump shoes. I don’t like shoes with toes showing.”

The Tournament entrusts a corps of stylists from Pasadena’s Amadeus Spa to serve as purveyors of the princess look.

The day after the court was chosen, the team of 12 stylists swarmed Princess Shannon to brainstorm.

A bob? A wedge cut? Highlights?

“Yeah!” she blurted out. “Would it be too extreme if I asked for two white streaks in the front, like Rogue has?”

Rogue? She’s the teenage super-heroine who sports a skunk-like stripe in the movie “X-Men.”

“We can do it later,” the stylist said. “After the parade.”

‘We Are Not Really Acting Our Age’

As they approach parade day, Tournament members like to stand back and marvel at their work.

“Before, they were a bunch of high school girls with a lot going for them,” said John Reitnouer of the Queen and Court Committee. “Now, they are very poised young ladies.”

Speaking for the court, Queen Caroline agrees.

“Clearly, there is a transformation with the make-over, the hair, the clothes, the etiquette,” she said. “And I guess we are not really acting our age . . . like making sure we are on time for everything, looking nice in public.”

Perhaps outside the walls of Wrigley Mansion, some people might dismiss the Rose Court as another batch of beauty queens.

But these ambitious girls--and their predecessors--know better. “You go from age 17 to 25 overnight,” said Jennifer Halferty, the 1997 rose queen, now in law school. “You become very comfortable with adults, of all ages, backgrounds.”

Some sacrifices, however, must be made, usually prompted by the court’s relentless schedule.

Princess Shannon missed the early application deadline for Yale. Princess Katherine withdrew from the Pasadena Dance Conservancy for the season and wonders if it will harm her chances for Juilliard. Princess Lauren’s Advanced Placement government teacher refused to excuse her many absences, asking: “Where is this going to get you in five years?”

Her guidance counselor intervened, and authorized an independent study course instead.

“When you didn’t grow up in Pasadena, you think this is just riding down the street in a float,” said the counselor, Allison Stepps. “You don’t see what goes into these girls trying out, being chosen.”

It’s that kind of Rose Court adulation around town that makes it acceptable for hundreds of Pasadena-area girls to converge on Wrigley Mansion every fall for tryouts.

Jenkins, who grew up in Pasadena, mused about what he thought of the Rose Court in the 1970s, when he attended UC Berkeley:

“I would have said, no way. That’s going to die out. What a crazy tradition. Women of today aren’t going to put up with that stuff.”

This year, Caroline is the 84th rose queen.

“Maybe if this was a brand-new event, and we had just thought up this notion of having young ladies participate, we might call them something different,” Jenkins said. “We might say ‘ambassadors,’ not ‘princesses.’ We might have young men.

“But we’re not.”

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For a behind-the-scenes look at the making of the Rose Court, see a video at https://www.latimes.com/princess.