The Rose Queen of Texas

In the rose capital of the United States, a tradition wrenched off track by the pandemic is back and in full bloom.

TYLER, Texas — Early on a recent Saturday, the townspeople of Tyler staked out spots along the Texas Rose Festival parade route. Marching bands boomed, convertibles honked, and T-shirt guns fired into the cheering crowd. Fourteen floats bore coteries of young women in whimsical, garden-themed gowns that wouldn’t have been out of place on the set of “RuPaul’s Drag Race.” The Apache Belles, a local dance troupe dating back to the 1940s, shouted, “Tyler, Tyler, we are the best!”

But the best, in fact, was yet to come. As the penultimate float rounded the bend near the high school football stadium, there was a flurry of excited whispers. Spectators craned to see past the twirling batons and John Deere tractors. A little girl tugged on her mother’s sleeve and pointed to a pink blur in the distance. “Here she comes!” she said. “Look, it’s the queen!”

Slender and fair skinned, the Texas rose queen glimmered in her pink layered organza and lamé gown. A silk-trimmed train bursting with giant ribbon roses, and weighing 42 pounds, unfurled behind her. Her head was dwarfed by a gold-plated crown studded with Swarovski crystals and enamel roses. Children gathered at the hem of her skirts, the girls in white lace gloves, the boys in gold vests and ruffled collars.