Is ‘Princess Treatment’ A Sign Of Love, Indulgence, Or A Strategic Power Move?

The idea of princess treatment has become a shorthand for being adored, gifts, affection, doors held open, meals paid for, a kind of everyday coronation. On the surface, it sounds sweet, even empowering. After all, why shouldn’t women be cherished after generations of being overlooked? But the fantasy of being treated like royalty hides deeper questions about power, gender, and what love should really mean.

Pampering or power play?

For many women, the appeal comes from history. Our mothers and grandmothers were expected to serve silently, rarely receiving attention in return. Their emotional labour was invisible, their sacrifices assumed. Against that backdrop, wanting to be pampered feels like rebellion. It is a way of saying: I will not be invisible. But the fact that basic respect, like remembering a favourite meal or showing care, is now labelled “royal” reveals how low the bar has been set. What should be ordinary has been rebranded as luxury.

There is also a cultural backdrop. Princess treatment echoes the fairy tales many of us grew up with, where a woman’s worth was measured by her beauty, her grace, or her ability to be chosen. The crown symbolised not agency but reward. Even today, the image lingers: women are praised when adorned, adored, and placed on a pedestal. But what does a pedestal really do? It elevates and it immobilises. A princess doesn’t steer her own story; she waits for someone else to place the crown.

This is where the critique lies. Feminism has long insisted that empowerment means autonomy, ambition, and reciprocity. Yet princess treatment risks pulling us back toward ornamental femininity, where being valued means being pampered, not being recognised as an equal partner. The gestures may feel affirming, but they can quietly reinforce an older script: men as providers, women as recipients.

Another layer is economic. Princess treatment is often imagined through dinners, gifts, and indulgences. But tying affection to financial gestures makes relationships transactional, echoing the very dynamics earlier generations struggled against. When attention is measured in flowers or jewellery, we risk confusing love with consumption. True care is not something that can be bought.

And then there is the silence around men. Where is the equivalent language for them? Why is there no mainstream idea of “prince treatment,” where men receive emotional nurturing, affirmation, or care without shame? The imbalance shows us the bargain beneath the glitter: one gender still pays, the other is still displayed. It may feel modern, but it is built on very old foundations.

This doesn’t mean women should stop desiring kindness, or that enjoying gifts and gestures is wrong. Wanting to feel cherished is not frivolous it is deeply human. The issue is when we mistake pampering for respect, or indulgence for equality. What relationships need is not spectacle but substance: partners who share the load, recognise each other’s ambitions, and invest in mutual growth.

Perhaps the real feminist challenge is not to demand to be treated like princesses, but to demand something quieter and deeper: to be treated as people. That means care without hierarchy, generosity without performance, tenderness without dependency. It means replacing crowns with conversations, pedestals with partnerships.

The desire for princess treatment tells us something important: women are done with invisibility. But the next step is to dream bigger. Not of castles and crowns, but of relationships where dignity, affection, and equality are so ordinary that no one needs royal treatment just to feel seen.

Views expressed by the author are their own.