First, I love that you have all these tiaras. It makes you more mysterious. You say these are only SOME of your favorites. 

No mystery .  I love shiny things and since I was little nothing made me happier than having a crown on my head...so when I was sullen or mopey or pissy, which was often, my dad realized buying me something sparkly was much easier than spending divorced daddy/daughter time actually trying to parent.  

Half kidding - he did the best he could with the tools he had.  It just left me associating tiaras* with the absolute certainty that he loved me enough to find my unhappiness intolerable and would do whatever he could to make it better.

sometimes even less than optimal parenting can have collateral benefit if the motivation is concern and unconditional love.  

The dynamics in my family were complicated and largely dysfunctional but that he loved me unconditionally and that my happiness and well being were absolutly paramount in his priorities carried me through a lot.  The moments where I've doubted the truth of that werent just painful...they were emotionally intolerable.  That I mattered to my father was the rock I built my entire psyche on.  shake that and I wouldn't know how to even begin to reconstruct who I am...that part of my mental construct needs to stay intact so I won't.

 The collection started as a kind of inside family joke where I'd get them as gifts, and you know how once you collect stuff it's an easy goto present.  But not gonna lie they are a weird tangible reminder that I once really mattered to my dad no matter how impossible or weird or spoiled or selfish or arrogant or obnoxious or moody or angry or pathologically insecure I was ...and I was all of those things and then some....his love was unconditional.  As was his relentless worry, unwavering financial support, unspoken forgiveness, belief of my complete innocence regarding my big sins, and really annoying degree of over-protection.  

In words he never told me he loved me.  Or that he was proud of me...or that he knew I'd eventually stop making terrible life choices and turn out okay.  

But I always knew, that was all just a given ...like when we'd play 'poker' when I was 5-6 it was a given that I'd always win (turns out when you play with other people the rules don't change so whatever I'm holding is the winning hand ...which is why cards are stupid.)

*see also cash, magic wands, gaudy heart shaped boxes of candy, new clothes, kiddie cocktails, anything heart shaped, letting me win, anything pink, Razzles, and letting me have my own way.  

I rarely drink and apparently when I do I use all the words!

tldr tiaras are shiny and I've got enough daddy issues to keep a team of professionals busy for decades.

I see that as a perfectly acceptable way of storing books.  

You should borrow a high-end camera and take some high res pictures of that before you disassemble it. That's got to be perfect stock for SOMETHING.

No insult to your dad issues intended, but it's so pretty-yet-melancholy... it deserves to live on!

   Surely, all those little pageant princesses and aging beauty queens must have something to store their tiara trophies in. Have you tried pageant suppliers if there is such a thing?

......what would Honey Boo Boo do?

This is a pretty cool display. I doubt the books are offended. Are any of the tiaras made from precious metals and stones? Do you ever wear them?