Just when I had overcome the nausea from the headlines of last week’s White House Correspondents’ Dinner which substantiated the torrid love affair between Biden and the press, along came headlines of the dystopian Met Gala in New York City.
While I’ve only become aware of this annual New York fashion carnival act in the last few years, I consider it a display of America’s cultural rot. A long-time benefit for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute, the annual fundraiser attracts cultural elites willfully showcasing excessive ugliness.
Like the subjects enabling the emperor’s nudity in The Emperor’s New Clothes, legacy media outlets enable this absurdity by promoting the event as though this menagerie of weirdos is to be celebrated for its greatness, as opposed to being denigrated as the freak show it really is.
Filtering the visuals through the thin slits between my fingers to protect my intelligence, I allowed myself a cautionary glance at photos of the event and the legacy media’s glowing headlines. The flamboyant costuming brought to life the totalitarian Capitol City in The Hunger Games, where extreme fashion identifies the self-absorbed elites who exist unaware the plight of the “unwashed” masses.
Unfortunately, the elitist goofballs attending the Met Gala are not fictional characters; they are real. And we should be embarrassed for them. While the occasional elegant gown could be spotted, outrageous outfits ruled the night. Some wore next to nothing. Several men dressed like women. Kim Kardashian dressed as a chandelier.
The theme of this year’s Met Gala was, “In Honor of Karl,” a famous icon of the fashion world. In the thirty seconds I gave to researching the media’s golden calf Karl Lagerfeld, I was moved to tears by the only relatable quote from his book, The World According to Karl. His eloquent words will surely be passed down through generations of fashionistas: “Sweatpants are a sign of defeat. You lost control of your life, so you bought some sweatpants.”
Frankly, nothing shows a loss of control of one’s life quite like a grown man donning a lacey white bridal bodysuit and veil. Such was the case for young male model Alton Mason at this year’s gala. The media reported he was wearing Chanel. So it’s cool.
Though not present at the event, Choupette, Lagerfeld’s famous cat, made for a convenient visual icon for Met Gala attendees. Large media outlets have actually published entire articles about this famous diva. Quite the aristocat, Choupette is a social media darling, successful model, and millionaire. She’s the Paris Hilton of the feline world. And bless her, it is reported she continues to honor the legacy of her late owner when she’s not busy using her iPad or getting manicures.
Three guests dared dress like the gorgeous Choupette for this year’s Met Gala. Lil Nas X donned a cat-like crystal body suit by Dior, while Jared Ledo opted for a giant furry cat costume. Rounding out the lunacy was rapper Doja Cat, who wore prosthetic facial features to appear feline. She answered “meow” to all questions posed during media interviews.
And like the sentiments of the emperor’s subjects, the media applauds. There’s nothing to see here.
Despite my criticism of the media, their recognition of the most genuine guest of the night, a live cockroach, is to be commended. As if answering a dare, this tiny hero made his debut running down the red carpet before making for the stairs. In all his simplicity, the unembellished roach managed to garner attention from both the costumed congregation and the media.
Sadly, the encroaching cockroach met his sad demise under the shoe of a photographer who appeared foolishly more frightened by the little insect than by Lil Nas X who boasts his own line of Satan-themed sneakers. The roach’s impromptu performance at the Met Gala was authentic and unrehearsed, yet still made headlines.
Maybe there’s hope.
