Princess Olga Romanoff: Insights into the Romanov Family Legacy

«Although I was a champion Russian vodka drinker, these days I actually prefer French champagne!» HRH Olga Romanoff

Written by Kristina Moskalenko

How were your history lessons at school? Mine were not particularly engaging — dry and perfunctory. I often found myself doodling on the portraits of kings and queens in textbooks, considering history to be rather dull.

However, the perspective changes when you encounter history in person, hearing its thoughts and witnessing how it lives. Here I am, with HRH Olga Romanoff, at her 33-room mansion, the Provender House in the picturesque Kent countryside. She graciously invited me to discuss her upcoming book, her unconventional childhood, the grandeur of Russian balls and her life with horses and dogs at Provender House.

After a few glasses of champagne, however, we delved into her eclectic taste in TV and men, and even discussed how she was once considered as a potential bride for then-Prince of Wales, now King Charles III himself!

Navigating through opulent 13th-century chambers, dining rooms, and lounges to 18th-century drawing rooms and 19th-century music chambers, dressing rooms, and bedroom suites, we eventually settled in the cozy warmth of the kitchen. Olga, with her slender athletic figure clad in simple jeans and a turtleneck, offered me a delightful spread of plump grapes, mature cheese, soft bread, and delicious pâté.

“Would you prefer a glass of wine or water? You can have either!” HRH tactfully suggests.

Her down-to-earth demeanor contrasted with the traditional image of a princess. “Lots of people expect a princess to wear a tiara every day at home. People are peculiar,” she chuckled. She then described her daily routine, including caring for her ponies, handling horse chores, and enjoying the company of her dogs.

“About five times a year I get scrubbed up, use a makeup artist and squeeze into a ball-gown. I only do five balls a year, so this is ok. I like being with my friends, I like the fact that some of my children occasionally scrub up and come to the ball with me. I am quite fond of the Admiral Lord West of Spithead at the Russian Debutante Ball in London, he and his wife are very jolly,” she smiles. “It is a good night out and I find it good fun.”

Olga sighs, pours herself some wine and presents me with a royal order, “Please help yourself. This is Camembert and a rather nice Scottish cheese I found, and a quite nice pate. Please, keep eating, it is local. I like the marmalade.”

Here I must salute the local Kent producers! Their produce is ripe, delicious and colourful, even more so when served by a Princess, accentuating its pedigree.

“We used to spend a lot of time at the Dorchester and Claridge’s when I was young,” she continues in a voice that sounds like an experienced musician who plays a dramatic tune yet can break into a light-hearted, humorous spring at a moment’s notice. “My mother used to say it was good value. All these places have changed now. The Ritz used to be wonderful for tea, yet now has so many extra tables and tourists. Nowadays, one can hardly walk across the room. It’s lost its je ne sais quoi. In the past, it was always well-dressed people looking attractive; now they allow people in jeans, shorts, and mini-skirts. The end of an era of glamour. That’s it!”

Really? No glamour in the Dorchester?

Princesses surely know best. So I took a pause, agreed, and thought I would google historic photos of Dorchester in its heydey, when I get back to the office.

Princess Olga Romanoff is the only daughter of the marriage of Nadine Sylvia Ada McDougall and Prince Andrei Alexandrovich of Russia. The Princess’s father was the son of Grand Duke Alexander Mikhailovich of Russia and his wife Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna. In simple terms, this makes Olga’s father the nephew of Tsar Nicholas II.

Olga was born in 1950 in England, when her mother was 42 and her father, who escaped 1917 Revolution by moving to Europe, had just turned 56. The couple settled into the Provender House owned by Olga’s British side of the family.

“I had both my Coming Out Ball and Wedding Breakfast at the Dorchester. My Debutante Ball was in 1968. I was given a choice by my parents of having a ball or building a swimming pool here at Provender House. I chose the ball because I knew I would not be living here all my life, so the pool would have been wasted. I also knew my mother would not go NEAR it, and my father would not go IN it. I also thought a ball would be rather good fun. Indeed, so did my mother! So everybody my parents owed anything to was there“, Olga grins.

Back then she was into the 1920’s novelist Georgette Heyer, so the dress code was set to be a Regency costume ball.

“We did not realize that the Regency dress fits well on very thin women, like I was. But if you got up to a size 16, like my mother was, you looked terrible. Men looked wonderful though. They wore buckskin breeches and boots up to the knee-high. Another peculiar detail was that we had a dance floor built downstairs which was obviously very dark (as there were no windows). But my mother asked to turn the lights up all night because she wasn’t having any “hanky panky” on the dance floor. It was a bit tiresome, but she was very much into virginity — I wouldn’t have been a good bargaining chip if I wasn’t a virgin — so the lights were kept on. That’s what people were like back then.”

“Take Royal Ascot. In the Royal Enclosure, there used to be a certain code: you were not allowed to be divorced, bankrupt, or have been in jail. Nowadays, you get all three.”

But back to virginity. It’s rather confusing, yet also very refreshing and amusing to discuss it with the Royal. However, Olga is very open about her youth. As casually as if it were an anecdote, she shares her mother’s pipe dream of her being a potential bride for Prince Charles. “Harpers Bazaar did a section in 1967 to find a suitable foreign Princess for Prince Charles. I was one of five or six. There was also a girl from Luxembourg. However, I was, in fact, the wrong religion — I am Russian Orthodox — so I was out in the first round. Besides, why on earth would anyone have wanted to marry me then?” HRH reflects and laughs, with the carefree nature of adolescence. “I had only met a man twice in my life back then, and it would never have worked. I am too selfish, opinionated, and I don’t put up with shite. He would not have wanted to marry me.”

Her mischievous smile widened like a moat. “Plus I liked bad boys. To go for a nice man like Charles, with all his responsibilities, would never have crossed my mind. Although my mother would have been just so pleased… I always did admire Charles and Camilla. I thought their publicity as a result of Diana was most unfortunate. By the way, Diana wasn’t a Princess. It annoys me enormously when people refer to her as “Princess Diana”, because, in fact, she was the Princess of Wales.”

According to Olga, one is only a Princess by the christening name if one’s father was a Prince. So Olga’s mother was Princess Andrew, not Princess Nadine.

Therefore, Olga is Princess Olga and Diana would actually have been the Princess of Wales or Princess Charles. “To call her Princess Diana is totally incorrect and annoys me”, a bemused Olga exhaled.

“You know, people sell titles these days. Some people in Britain have more than one title, so they sell off a few and keep the main one. It doesn’t bother them, at all. Hah! That’s an idea, but I can’t sell mine, no! It’s my identity.”

The Royal jewelry of the Romanov House is also an important part of Princess Olga’s identity, which is rather complex. On one hand, she is a Romanoff; on the other hand, she grew up in England and barely speaks Russian.

“Occasionally, I have a curious feeling in England when I see Romanov jewels on other people’s necks. My grandmother, Grand Duchess Xenia Alexandrovna of Russia, the elder daughter of Emperor Alexander III of Russia and Empress Maria Feodorovna of Russia (née Princess Dagmar of Denmark), managed to bring some of the family jewelry to the UK in 1919. She then auctioned her jewels in the 1940s, before I was born. They were bought by George V’s wife, Queen Mary. Which means, occasionally, on a Royal family neck, I see something I recognise.”

But how would you recognise them if the auction was before you were born?

“Oh, my grandmother had an inventory book and did paintings herself, lifesize. I had it for some time, but had to sell the book. I had to sell a lot of heirlooms to be able to repair this house.”

From time to time, Princess Olga sells parts of her family archive to keep this 13th-century house from dilapidating and to maintain it. However, there are precious heirlooms she will never part with. Among them is a celebrated etching pen her grandfather used to write her father’s birth date on the window of the Winter Palace.

“My father was born in the Winter Palace. When I first went to St. Petersburg in 1998, I felt Russian. My father had told me about St. Petersburg, and it felt like home. It was better than expected. So when in Russia, I feel Russian. Just like all the Russians I know, I suffer from melancholia. I hate winters and autumns. Although I do not fall into a depression as such, I feel a tinge sometimes. Papa suffered from it badly. I also love Cossack music, and I was brilliant at vodka shots! I could do six at once. My daughter and I had competitions at balls. Too old for that now. Champagne is what I adore these days.”

“I can’t say a thing in Russian; I find English hard enough. I know four words in Russian: Da, Net, Spasibo, Dushka (Yes, No, Thank you, Sweetheart). Papa called me “Dushka”. Before the Revolution, that was how you addressed your children or lover. It’s like “Darling”. Papa spoke five languages.”

They used to say about Romanoff men that they could speak five languages and yet were silent in them all. They were not great talkers.

“My book “Princess Olga, a Wild and Barefoot Romanov” came out in October, 2017. It is about my wacky childhood and differentiates between running around barefoot here, wild, with my governess, to my father’s childhood, born and bred in the Winter Palace with the pomp and circumstance of old Russia. For the first three years of his life he was dressed as a girl. From the age of four Father dressed in naval uniform and went from a lovely warm nursery with an English nanny to a cold dormitory with a tutor, a hard bed and navy-like treatment. He went from comfort to discomfort, quickly.”

“My mother, on the other hand, also had a terrible time at boarding school here in England from the age of eight. This was just after World War I. That school sounded like hell. They were not allowed to hold onto railings because they would put fingermarks on the polished wood, so they had to walk in the middle of the stairs. They had to carry buckets of water in all weather because they were used like slaves. They lived in a dormitory with no heating. Bear in mind, these were delicate young children. My mother had terrible chilblains on her hands and feet, which were bound with rags, so she could not move properly. She had weak lungs as a result and was always getting pneumonia. Terrible cruelty, but at the time they thought it was the thing to do.”

The experience made Olga’s mother swear if she had a girl, she would not let her go to a boarding school.

“In the 1950s, it was considered eccentric not to go to school. I had governesses and tutors come to teach me how to write and play tennis. In England, all children went to school, except me. At times it was lovely, at times it was lonely. I asked my mother to go to school, and the answer would be: No, I want you to stay at home, it is a better education and you wouldn’t like school.”

“When my own daughter started her primary school in Scotland, she told the teachers her mommy never went to school. They thought that I was a special needs individual”.

“So when I attended parents’ evening for the first time, there was a relief from the teachers that I looked normal, even though they suspected there might be huge flaws underneath! After WWII, unless a child had severe problems, it was unheard of for kids not to go to school.”

Olga herself has had four children. The youngest did not survive. It is hard for her to talk about this, but she is comfortable sharing her thoughts about her second son Francis Mathew. When he took part in Ukrainian TV Show in 2012 called “The Batchelor”, he lived in Kiev for 18 months and HRH used to stay with him.

“I agreed to go to Crimea to take part in the documentary about my family’s palaces, because I had actually never seen them. They took me to Livadia Palace, which was interesting. We got kicked out of the chapel in Livadia, because I was lighting candles and saying a prayer while the crew was filming me. Out came a priest from behind the altar who was livid with me. Massandra Palace I found fascinating, as it was built by three different architects. It had a real English rose garden. But the house I wanted to see most was my grandfather’s palace Ai-Todor. Upon arrival, it had a huge wooden fence all the way around and an enormous gate with a little door. We rang and rang until a little old lady came out and told us off. I then asked to see the director, and I explained to him who I was, and was allowed in. It had been turned into a home for abused children“.

After the visit Olga went for a walk on the path between Ai-Todor and Livadia, and found a stray dog, who was trying to lick her. “I thought, “God, that is all I need — to get rabies on a path, where my family had long walks and talks.” It was May and very cold, the crew kept apologising for the weather. So British…”

We then continue looking through her photographs. “I like reading newspapers and watching TV with a dog on either side. I enjoy soap operas. I have watched “EastEnders” since its very beginning. I find it always nice to see people far worse off than yourself; it makes one feel better”.

My children think my taste is appalling. Here is a photo of me at one of the balls with a fur. I used to quite like that photograph, but my daughter said: “You can’t use it for your book because you look like a drag queen”. So I didn’t.

“I fox hunt. When I lived in Florence, I had a boyfriend, Alfio Rapisardi. I went back and saw him about 20 years ago. He planned to come over and see me fox hunt. However, he could not eventually make it, so I sent him photos, and he made a painting of me on my little black horse. He was famous for his horses and nudes in the 60s and 70s; they were all over the restaurant ceilings in Italy, a bit like Michelangelo. However, in the 30 years between knowing him and seeing him, his nudes have literally become pornographic. So on his latest painting of me, I am wearing weird colors, but I always say, ‘It’s lucky I am clothed at all, because otherwise this picture would have had to stay in the trunk… forever!”

When Olga reminisces about the men in her life, it suddenly feels hot in her kitchen, so she suggested we get some fresh air at the garden, up to three acres of it!

“My father planted this walnut tree from the nut in 1964, and see how beautifully it’s grown! The squirrels planted the other walnut trees,” she laughs with her sense of tongue-in-cheek humor. “Pa was such a brilliant gardener and chef. As we have three acres of wilderness, we often have events here. It is a nice, peaceful, and serene location; small children and dogs can’t run astray. We can prepare any type of banquet; I actually have my team of caterers.”

As Olga discussed her event planning, I notice the house was becoming a bit lurchy, or lop-sided.

“Well, they started building it 700 years ago. The idea of a basement was not there then. This means I have to keep an eye on the walls and this means more running costs. As a result I invite paying guests to spend weekends here. I hire a chef and a ‘smile’ on my face. Ha, just imagine my great grandmother, when she lived here, had as many as 20 people here as full-time staff: butlers, kitchen maids, you name it!”

With this last thought she bundled her dogs in to the passenger trunk of her old jalopy, and drove me to the train station. As we engaged in these whirlwind memories of Romanov past, its golden hey-dey, beautiful world of manners and society, peculiarities and eccentricity, HRH got carried away discussing her memories of the golden pedigree of the times and accidentally dropped me off at the wrong station.

In these whirlwind memories of Romanov past, Princess Olga emerges as a fascinating, eccentric, and humorous individual — truly a Romanov in her own right.

Buy “Princess Olga, A Wild and Barefoot Romanov: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Princess-Olga-Wild-Barefoot-Romanov/dp/085683517X
HRH PRINCESS OLGA ROMANOFF ESTATE: http://www.provenderhouse.co.uk
Provender House
Provender House, Provender Lane, Norton,
Nr Faversham, Kent ME13 0ST
Telephone: 07773 790872
Email: info@provenderhouse.co.uk

Photos: Egor Piskov, Kristina Moskalenko, HRH Olga Romanoff Archive