What does Her Majesty keep in her handbag? And why should we care what she wears on her head? Jennie Bond on a royal wardrobe that defines moments in history

It was with some trepidation that I arrived at Kensington Palace to take a peek at the preparations for its latest exhibition. The theme, naturally, is royal - but it is one that I have shunned throughout my career as a royal correspondent. Ever since I began reporting on the monarchy I have refused, rather pompously, to include details of the Queen's clothes in my script. My reason for doing so is that television viewers can see for themselves what she is wearing - and, in any case, does it really matter?

But there are those who care a great deal about the sovereign's wardrobe, and for your delectation this year, the palace is serving up a display of the Queen's hats and handbags - stretching all the way back to the days of her childhood.

For several weeks now, a team of 12 conservators from Historic Royal Palaces has been cloistered in a small room at Kensington Palace tending meticulously to every flaw or stain to besmirch the hats and handbags used by the Queen during her long reign. By the time the exhibition opens on 23 May, every item will be in pristine condition.

As I am ushered in to this hive of activity by the curator, Joanna Marschner - a woman with an encyclopaedic grasp of each item's place in history - I immediately feel surrounded by old friends. There on the table in front of me is the pink extravaganza that made such an impression 26 years ago, at the silver jubilee celebrations. I know it so well - not least from all the archive footage through which I have ploughed. Only now do I discover that this concoction of 25 bells (each with its own crop of yellow stamens), cascading down a pink helmet on a forest of lime green spaghetti, is the creation of the legendary Freddie Fox. Even I have heard of him. In fact, I met him once and was instantly charmed. More fascinating still is Marschner's titbit that this famous jubilee hat had in fact been worn before its big day. The Queen apparently gave it a dry run a year earlier in Canada. It must, one assumes, have gone down well.

Next, my eye is drawn to a shelf on the left. Surely that is the famous Talking Hat: the striking blue number that millions of TV viewers listened to intently one day in 1991. It was the Queen's final morning in Washington and President Bush (the last one) was waxing lyrical about her visit. And then it was the Queen's turn to step up to the microphone. The trouble was that no one had thought to alter the height - and George Bush Sr is 6ft 2ins, almost a foot taller than his royal guest. As her words of farewell rang out, all the cameras could capture was the broad brim of her hat, nodding slightly as it addressed a bouquet of microphones.

Hats, I begin to realise, can define snippets of history. Also on display is the stylish black velvet beret that the Queen wore to Winston Churchill's funeral in 1965. It was made by Aage Thaarup, the Danish milliner, who also used to design some of the Queen Mother's most elaborate offerings. Still intact, too, is a little pink bonnet, with a garland of roses and daisies, worn by Elizabeth in 1933, when she was just seven. For the child she was then, the future seemed uncomplicated; the throne was nowhere in her destiny.

Four years later, in May 1937, everything had changed - and she found herself at her father's coronation. The silver gilt coronet, softly padded inside the rim, that the young princess wore on that day looks to me curiously like something my daughter would wear in a school play. But this is the real thing, created by the royal jewellers Garrard.

Some of the more bizarre offerings turn out to be by a French designer, Simone Mirman. One - an explosion of tiny red poppies tightly moulded to the head - reminds me of the vivid floral swimming hats I used to wear. I finally gave them up after being mocked ruthlessly by my stepdaughter. The poppy one claims its place in history because it was worn by the Queen on a visit to Morocco in 1980, when she was most unamused at being kept waiting by King Hassan.

Marschner points me in the direction of a hat she classifies as "successful". It's made of lilac straw and is by Philip Somerville who - like Fox - has designed extensively for the Queen.

"It's just the right size," says Marschner, "big enough to be stylish - but not so large that it hides the Queen's face. It's a vibrant colour, and that's really important because people have got to be able to see her. And it's memorable, too, with a shower of violets and a bow on top." It's a hat that does the job, and the Queen has worn it a lot: on duty in New Zealand, in Northern Ireland and in Iceland, as well as at garden parties and Ascot.

In all there are almost 100 hats on show at the palace - from the merest wisp of black net, worn to cocktail parties in the 1960s, to the overtly political commission of purple silk (in honour of the thistle) created by Somerville for the opening of the Scottish Parliament in 1999. They provide a novel, somewhat wacky view of the Queen's life over seven decades.

"Ah! But," I hear you say, "what of the royal handbags?" Does this exhibition finally answer the question that has for so long been on everyone's lips? What exactly does the Queen carry in her handbag?

On my travels with royalty, I once came close to discovering the truth about this mystery. We were in Pakistan and the Queen was about to make a speech. She opened her bag to find her glasses - and they fell out. She bent down to retrieve them - leaving her bag gaping open as she did so. For a few seconds its contents were almost visible to the waiting press. But only almost, I'm afraid. For a woman of her age she moved extremely fast - and the moment had passed before we had time for a real snoop.

And I am sorry to say that the ten bags on display at Kensington Palace offer few other clues to this conundrum. They are exquisite and petite, and several have tiny matching purses inside that show no sign of ever having been used. One or two have en suite mirrors as well.

They left me open-mouthed. Where, I wonder, does a working woman like the Queen put her phone and her Filofax, her make-up and her brush, her pens and her Kleenex - not to mention her tiara? We shall never know.

"Hats and Handbags: accessories from the royal wardrobe" is at Kensington Palace, London W8 until 18 April 2004. For more information call 0870 751 5170, or visit www.hrp.org.uk

Jennie Bond is the BBC's royal correspondent

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