But the digital age — defined by a sense of presumed intimacy with famous faces, whose lives play out via smartphones in the palms of our hands — has intensified the collective appetite to place ordinary women on pedestals in the public arena, only to relish the act of tearing them down.

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The Times has, for the most part, limited its commentary on Ms. Middleton to observational pieces focused on her relationship with the media, rather than on her wardrobe choices or matrimonial prospects. And for her part, with the exception of a few columns for Vanity Fair and “Celebrate,” her much-criticized book debut, Ms. Middleton has maintained a virtually Sphinxlike silence in public. Whatever role she has tried to carve out, she has clearly gone to great lengths not to be seen as cashing in on her royal associations.

So when she announced her engagement last July, to a dashing, older multimillionaire who had reportedly gone to some lengths to secure her affections, we had to decide to what extent we would participate in the inevitable media circus.

Both a Styles piece after the engagement and a wedding primer published last week were met with social-media scorn from readers irate at wasted column inches on people they viewed to be inconsequential characters. (The numbers told a different story: Each of those articles proved extremely popular, generating hundreds of thousands of page views.)

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In the end, the Middleton-Matthews wedding was in parts understated, in others brazenly spectacular. After the intimate ceremony, guests danced until 4 a.m. under a vast glass marquee, watched a Spitfire plane flyby at sunset, and oohed and aahed at a dazzling pyrotechnics display. Besides a few notable names, including the tennis ace Roger Federer, the guest list of about 300 was fiercely protected.

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Certainly the visual narrative of the celebration — that is to say, who wore what, which is what the press had to play with — hardly held the historical significance of the royal wedding, say, or a presidential inauguration. In those situations, participants are acutely aware that what they wear is a powerful tool, promoting a particular message. (See Melania Trump in Ralph Lauren, for example, or the Duchess of Cambridge in Alexander McQueen on her own wedding day.) Their attire reflects a strategic choice about the core personal values they hope to communicate.

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Perhaps, with her traditional English country church wedding and lace-bodiced, high-necked wedding gown created by Giles Deacon, teamed with a tiara and tulle veil dotted with pearls, Ms. Middleton (now Mrs. Matthews), who posed happily after the ceremony for waiting photographers, had something subliminal she wished to convey. Perhaps not.

Most likely, she was simply — and radiantly — enjoying her big day. Which is why, in the end, The Times settled on a series of photographs rather than a news article for our coverage of the events in Bucklebury, Berkshire, on Saturday.

After all, sometimes a picture (or four) says a thousand words. And beyond that, there isn’t much more to say.