The self-conscious, careful display of austerity in a country wracked by severe cuts in public services was similar to the then Princess Elizabeth's wedding in November 1947, when Britain had just lost India, the brightest jewel in the imperial crown.
Till she received her Wartski wedding ring of Welsh gold from her prince, Kate Middleton wore little jewellery other than a 1936 Cartier 'halo' tiara of some historic value and spanking new diamond-set oak leaf earrings inspired by her middle-class family's new coat of arms.
Her train, which measured just under three metres, was one-eighth that of Diana, the late mother-in-law she never met, and presumably shaved a few bob off the bill.
Minor royals and some other guests were bussed to Westminster Abbey, the wedding venue, even though royal aides quaintly insisted the vehicles were motor coaches, not buses.
The champagne served to 650 guests at the buffet lunch hosted by the groom's grandmother, Queen Elizabeth II, at Buckingham Palace, was a notch or two below the best in the market.
And unlike the choices available to Charles and Diana, Prince William's parents 30 years ago, the newly created Duke and Duchess of Cambridge cannot choose the royal yacht for a paparazzi-free honeymoon. It would seem extravagant to take a private jet to some indulgent faraway idyll.
The tattered majesty, offset by the pomp that is the product of spit and polish, red military uniforms and gold braid, was quietly laced with robust modern mores. The bride wore virginal white even though she has lived with the groom for years.
Her dress featured a strapless corset that some thought either Victorian or Baywatch in style. And the couple puckered up not once but twice on the Palace balcony, underlining the belief that in a time of economic doom and increasing geopolitical irrelevance, a wedding and the meeting of lips may be the kiss of life.
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