CONSIDER MY FRIEND SOOZE, WHO ALWAYS recounts this story to me in amazement: “When I told my parents I wanted to have a home wedding with just the immediate family, they painted the dining room.”

Sooze was talking about a dining room in a split-level in Kankakee, Illinois.

Now multiply that image by about a zillion-million and you’ll get what happened when brides moved into the Palazzo Reale (Royal Palace) in Turin. From 1719 until 1930, whenever a king took a wife, massive redecorating ensued. So when you visit this thirty-room section of the gigantico palazzo, you’ll be walking through a history of interior design—from baroque to rococo to neo-classical. For some brides, only a few elements were changed, others added entirely new rooms. It’s all richly layered with the history of the women who lived there.

And it’s all so very French. Why? Because this is where the Royal House of Savoy, a France-based dynasty reigned over the Piedmont region beginning in 1494. They also went on to conquer and rule other parts of Italy, and held the monarchy until they were exiled from the country in 1946, all way too complicated to get into right now.

Back to Palazzo Reale. As soon as you approach it—a magnificent vision of pale blue-gray stone with gold touches—you’ll understand why Italians nicknamed Turin “Little Paris.”

There were two Parisian-born women who were powerhouses behind building the palace as part of their “let’s beautify Turin” projects: Madama Reale I and her daughter-in-law Madama Reale II. During the seventeenth century, they lived in the Palazzo Madama (next door to the Reale) and ruled Piedmont in succession, because their Savoy King husbands died young. Both were beloved by the Torinese, governing like intelligent mammas, bringing art and culture to the city. The Palazzo Reale’s most famous feature, The Scissor Staircase, an ornate criss-cross design by Juvarra, was one of the artistic triumphs of the days of Madama Reale II.

The apartments you’ll be touring are basically from after their reign. Here you’re surrounded by birthday-cake chandeliers, giant gold-framed mirrors, and all those stiff, fancy furnishings that you couldn’t imagine a soul slouching on. Fantasies of gala affairs spring up. You can picture Spanish-born Maria Antonietta Ferdinanda’s 1750 wedding party in the baroque ballroom where a tapestry depicting a scene from Don Quixote hangs in homage to her. Duchessa Maria Teresa, who came here as a fifteen-year-old bride from Milan in 1788, had a Chinese salon put in, at a time when Europeans were intrigued with the Orient. When Principessa Maria Adelaide of Hapsburg arrived in 1842, exquisite wood-inlay floors were created and walls covered with pretty brocades.

Cut to 1930 to 1933 when the rooms were redesigned for Marie José of Belgium and her husband Umberto II. The charm of it is that it brings up thoughts of a contemporary fairy tale. Marie and Umberto were living in these grand old-fashioned surroundings when my mother was three—maybe Gershwin’s “I’ve Got Rhythm” was blasting on the radio. Their sala da pranzo (lunch room) is a gorgeous design of pale green walls and gold ornamentation. In the center is a table set as if any minute the King and Queen would walk in and sit down for a plate of foie gras.

But the truth is, Marie and Umberto never ate together. The marriage was politically arranged from the time Marie was a girl, and when they officially tied the knot, she, like everybody else, knew Umberto was gay. Umberto went off to “honeymoon” with his friends in Courmayeur, and then the couple moved in to the Palazzo Reale and lived completely separate lives.

Marie launched into entertaining philosophers, artists, writers, and musicians in her Blue Room. Not caring about royal protocol, she’d jump in her car and drive off to enjoy concerts and festivals in Turin. She separated herself from the whole Savoy family by speaking out against Mussolini—when he ordered her to Italianize her name to Maria Giuseppina, she refused.

In the meantime, Umberto embraced the stiff traditions of his family, and loved redecorating the palace in grand style. He never visited Marie without announcing himself first, and always with someone accompanying him. Rumors flew that their four children had been conceived through artificial insemination, or maybe one of the guys Marie was hanging with.

World War II brought on great turmoil, and in 1946, when the monarchy was abolished, Marie was exiled with the rest of the House of Savoy. She went to Switzerland, Umberto to Portugal, and they remained apart for the rest of their lives.

Marie, who died in 2001, will always be remembered as the last Queen of Italy. Fondly remembered that is, for standing up against Fascism when all those around her were taking Mussolini’s side. You may want to lag behind in the tour when you get to the Blue Room and picture Marie—a pretty blonde woman, sitting on her poufy couch with the fire blazing, surrounded by her artsy friends, having a grand time bucking the system in this beautiful place.

Palazzo Reale: Piazzetta Reale 1, Tuesday-Sunday 8:30-6, www.museibeneculturali.it

Golden Day: Visit the Palazzo Reale’s L’Appartamento dei Principi and the Royal Kitchen. The Caffè Reale, opposite the entrance to the palazzo, is the prettiest caffè ever and a wonderful to stop if you’re waiting for your tour. For a splurge and meal for the memory books, eat in elegant surroundings at Del Cambio (Piazza Carignano 2, 011 546690, closed Monday, www.delcambio.it).