Protect the Magic

Protect the Magic: The secret life of a Disney World Princess

Written by Victoria Radnothy

Illustrated by Leah Grace Craig

Long ago in a faraway land, there’s a magic kingdom. In this kingdom, there’s a large blue and white castle that towers over the neighboring stores, restaurants and non-threatening indoor roller coaster rides. It’s the showstopper of Fantasyland. And yet, nobody lives in this castle. It’s a tourist destination, surrounded by perfectly manicured grass and shrubbery in the shapes of beloved characters, with flowers that never seem to fall out of bloom.

This kingdom is quite prosperous. Rich in fairy tales where the heroes always win, the villains fall to their deaths and there’s always a happily ever after. It’s where magic is packaged and sold to the masses on a daily basis to adoring children and their parents, desperate to appease. Dole-whipped pineapple treats are sold during the sweltering hot summer day at $7.49 and parking is $50 per car. But the visiting patrons don’t mind, at least not the little ones, wearing their sensible walking shoes and mouse ears. It’s their favorite storybook come to life.

Our story begins with Melody, a young woman who sells the little fib that the big blue and white castle is hers and her Prince Charming’s. Although, it’s not her preferred Prince Charming. She’s working with Clayton today, her least favorite of the princes, as she looks at the shift breakdown pinned to the dressing room wall. A Jasmine is standing beside her, giddy about working with the hot Aladdin today. Lucky.

Clayton is insufferable, and a constant know-it-all. Constantly quizzing her on the mouse-eared lore, as if he forgot she too went through the grueling audition process and six week Cinderella intensive to be prepared for absolutely anything the guests have to throw at her. Least favorite being the creepy dads who make comments about Cinderella’s dress disappearing after midnight. And what does the handsome Prince Charming Clayton do— nothing. Just smiles to the camera, anything but charming.

The dressing room is utter chaos, as it usually is. There’s no sense of organization, it’s a frenzy, a free-for-all. A collection of wigs, bobby pins, company approved lip liner, fake eyelashes, iced nonfat skinny lattes and glitter everywhere. No one can step foot in this place and escape without a thin layer of glitter stuck to their skin. It’s just a part of the magic.

Melody pushes her way through the flurry of girls. All in various stages of their transformation from employee, to princess. It’s what the fairy godmother herself would be proud of. Watching these 20-something actresses barely make rent with their four roommates and on calorie deficient diets purely because they can’t afford groceries, become a real life Princess Ariel. Or Princess Tiana. Snow White or Mulan, savior of China. Pocahontas or Merida. Or Elsa, Queen of fictional Arendelle. All with their grand castles in faraway places, talking animal companions and handsome princes. Once they’re fitted with their perfectly blown out and primped wigs, blushing pink cheeks, and expertly masked facial blemishes and free of discoloration—they might actually be the real thing.

Sleeping Beauty sits down next to Melody, announcing to the room that after taking some time off, she finally got that nose job she’s convinced kept her from getting Cinderella. And Belle reveals her recent boob job. They all can’t believe how real they look. It’s a world where this Belle isn’t dating the beast, she’s actually in a rocky, on-again-off again relationship with Buzz Lightyear from Tomorrowland. Just don’t tell management, intercompany romance is highly frowned upon.

The wig expert, Penny, finds Melody amidst the rainbow of puffy sleaved costumes and tulle puffed skirts. Holding the Styrofoam head with the sleek, no single hair out of line, wig. She yanks and tugs it over Melody’s head. Masking the mousy brown hair with the perfect blonde bun and blue headband. Both of them jamming in bobby pins and securing it with half a can of hairspray to combat the Florida humidity, and she’s no longer Melody. Not the high school graduate who planned on going straight to Broadway, only to build a resumé of rejections. Forced to move back home with her parents to central Florida when she ran out of money. Attending countless casting calls and dance workshops, selling mouse shaped soft pretzels at a wheeling cart in Epcot, to finally get the call to play a real life princess. She’s Cinderella, with a messy past but the brightest future. A time capsule to entertain the masses. All it took was just a little faith, trust and pixie dust.

“Don’t forget to hydrate, ladies,” Rapunzel announces to the room, holding up bottles of Zephyrhills. “It’s gonna be a hot one.” But none of them can actually drink them out in the open.

Because princesses from a small town in 1400s Europe could never drink out of plastic water bottles, it breaks the magic.

But no matter, they’re professionals. They’re selling the magic. Their guests will never see the bucket of sweat under their underarms. Or smell the odor of their thick gowns with layers upon layers of tulle to puff out their cartoon come to life skirts.

Holding the hem of her dress up, Melody’s heels click along the concrete floor of the maze of tunnels running underneath Magic Kingdom. It’s the literal underground of the park, how they protect the magic. A series of underground tunnels that weave throughout the entire park. It’s how Cinderella can get to her castle without having to walk through rugged Frontierland, a place she would never be. And where they transport shipments to the restaurants and stores. Also how they conceal the garbage. The smell used to be unbearable, but Melody’s been here long enough, she only smells the sugary perfume they pump through the air vents to mask it.

She passes by Mickey, who’s scrolling on his phone. And Chip n’ Dale without their heads on, puffing smoke into their air while discussing last night’s scandalous endeavors. And Mary Poppins is yelling at her manager about cutting her hours.

Melody steps outside, accompanied by Clayton wearing his wig and unimpressed look. He’s not happy to be working with her, either. But they link arms and plaster on their Disney smiles as if they have a love that lasts the ages, and walk to their designated spot for meet-and-greets.

They’re selling the magic, the optimism. This perfect lifestyle where the glass slippers are comfortable and magically fit one sole in the entire kingdom. Salespeople for the perfect life, because everyone is a princesses playing dress up and dreaming of true love’s kiss with fairies who design their dresses and debate over whether it should be pink or blue. And if they follow second star on the right and straight on to morning, they’ll find Neverland.

There’s a line of about fifty people, snaking along the faux cobblestone, leading to the prince and princess. It’s a rainbow of little girls in their favorite glittery princess dresses, some dressed just like Melody. But they aren’t wearing wigs and caked on layers of stage makeup. The girl first in line is wearing a shiny Cinderella blue dress. Her hair is a dark brown and hangs around her with messy tangles and knots from running around the parks, cheeks freckled and pinked from the sun, holding a Winnie the Pooh bear.

“I want to be just like you when I grow up,” the girl says, grinning with a missing front tooth. “Well, if you keep on believing, the dream that you wish will come true,” Melody says with her voice trained a few levels higher than her actual voice. And they smile for the picture.