The Met Gala, the Costume Institute Gala, the Met Ball or ‘the name that tells you you are not (yet) the maniac you thought you were when it comes to fashion and still can live peacefully without knowing what it actually is’. My name is Cristina Pavelescu and I have a book, published by Vogue, on every year of the Met Gala so far.
Officially. It is the annual fundraising gala for the benefit of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute in New York City and the opening celebration for the Institute’s annual fashion exhibit.
Unofficially (except for the price). Each year there is a theme and celebrities from the arts, fashion, high-society, film and music attending the show (and paying a $30.000 entrance fee) can go wild (as if the ticket wasn’t wild enough) and dress in whatever, but very stricly according to the theme. The bigger, the better and it can involve pizzas, flaming hats or barely-theres.
There are 6-700 invitees (hand picked by Anna Wintour, editor-in-chief of Vogue, herself, gathered by the Vogue staffers) and this is one of the most notable sources of funding for the Institute.
As much as I love fashion and everything clothes can do to one, I don’t understand the role of the carrot most of the attendees are carrying around in places where the sun doesn’t shine. They are wearing some of the most famous designs and have just been styled up by the best “squads”, after all. How not to have fun?
If it is, however, the garden of carrots that just won’t let one enjoy one’s champagne, one should, at least, have fun with one’s outfit. So. This year’s dress code is Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology. One should wear one’s laser machine attached to one’s laser-cut dress. Or something. Anything.
One just can not go to the Met and be dressed for the Oscars, even though the ball is considered to be the Oscars of the fashion world, no statuettes or speeches included. It might, however, be the only event where one can kidnap Alicia, wear her and get away with it. So. Unleash the beast and dance. Or don’t.
But just eat the carrot, goddamn! Flamenco dancing emoji.
Alicia Vikander. Alicia above, Alicia below, Alicia everywhere. In Louis Vuitton.
Alexa Chung in Thakoon. Dazzling, fun, sexy. And thank God for those sandals! Nothing else. Nothing. Everything!
Zoë Kravitz in Valentino. Let love rule.
Michelle Williams in Louis Vuitton. Boots. Again. And everything.
Claire Danes in Zac Posen. Have you ever. I have. Dream of Cinderellas. And shoes. And princes. And dress, why not?
Karlie Kloss in Brandon Maxwell, if I were to choose from all the models’ gowns. And roar. “Roar”.
Solange Knowles in David LaPort. “I said oops up side your head, I said oops up side your head!”
Are you ready? Will.I.am.! He looks ready. To rumble. Or go to the beach. He is extravagant. He can.
Julie Macklowe. Would totally wear this. And steal Alexa’s sandals, Alicia’s smlie. And then wear this.
Selena Gomez in Louis Vuitton. Nicolas strikes (yet) again making this outfit the best of Selena’s so far. I don’t have a folder on her, but it feels so.
Brie Larson in Proenza Schouler. Now imagine this dress without these shoes. Told you.
Beyoncé (in Givenchy) is more of a smoothie than a lemonade here.
Amber Valletta in H&M. H&M?! Cool. Would totally wear it with jeans and Alexa’s sandals.
Oh, they finally changed the carpet a bit. It’s not only red anymore. It was about time!
This is what you can actually see at the Institute’s annual fashion exhibit.