When the theme of the 2015 Met Gala was announced—“China: Through the Looking Glass”—Kara Brown predicted that it would be an “Asian-themed shitshow.” She was not alone. Based on fashion’s propensity for doing whatever the hell it wants, many predicted that the red carpet for this year’s “fashion Super Bowl” would be a low point for celebrities, designers, culture, the Met, humanity in general.
For the most part, it seems attendees took heed of these warnings—and many of them did so by being as boring as humanly possible. Punks were pissed at 2013’s theme—where the most “dangerous” look was then-super-pregnant Kim Kardashian’s New Order-invoking full-body Riccardo Tisci number. There was a year for everyone to reflect—2014 was Charles James, important but not exactly controversial—and now here we are, where the people who are not trying to adhere to the “China” theme are simply trying to evade it. What is going on? Donatella Versace and Jennifer Lopez, above, don’t seem to totally know, except for the coordinated exposition of limbs, and the vague implications dragon in red, covering the netherparts. From there? Let’s take a look.
Alicia Keys and Maggie Gyllenhaal both went for it on neutrality, but with a twist; Keys’ jacket is basically trying to sell Gyllenhaal’s belt a timeshare in Bermuda, which would be cute if that belt didn’t already live there.
Stella McCartney has been the patron saint of this year’s pantsuits. With supermodel Cara Delevingne, she has matched her inky eye make-up with her creations, gone ham on flash tattoos, and probably had the best time whilst doing so. With Maggie Q, a pantsuit aficionado with her fiance Dylan McDermott, they’re all sleek and prioritizing comfort which, same.
At left, Jeremy Scott and Katy Perry wear Scott’s newest designs for Moschino, fall 2015. They are fucking awful, derivative, obvious and look like two black vans that got stuck in a parking garage overnight, to boot. Kendall Jenner is in Calvin Klein, whose minimalism is often delectable, but here is lacking in adventure. It’s a good shade on her. It’s fine.
I love that Robert Pattinson is wearing coattails, but moreso I love FKA Twigs’s gown from Christopher Kane’s Fall 2015 line. You can Google it and discover that yes it is a dick on her dress—shocking!—but more importantly it looks like she has four legs. Sarah Jessica Parker is doing too much—a vague gesture to flames and maybe Chinese New Year and, possibly, Cinco de Mayo, which I do not celebrate. I wish she’d brought along her haberdasher for explanation—Philip Treacy— instead of Andy Cohen, but he’s cool and wearing a tux.
Miranda Kerr is planning for the afters. So are Tory Burch and Melanie Laurent, except their afters are in a Paris garden in 1993, at which point they will wait for Miranda until they’ve received enough unanswered texts that it’s time to go home. Reese Witherspoon went Reese-buck with this square neckline (Reese crazy!) and Spike Lee and Tonya Lewis Lee are into her steez, but ready for the fun part (Miranda’s afters).
Lady Gaga’s eyebrows need to fall back. The lattice pattern on her gown—kimono-and-hanfu-esque, what it is—are an echo of that of Josephine de la Baume’s mock turtleneck look. Shout to Mark Ronson’s green socks and driving loafters. Miley Cyrus and Zoë Kravitz decided to show up in contrasting gunmetal, twinsies to the end. (Actually: had no real clue they were friends.)
Haha! Hello Ser Jay-Z and Lady Beyoncé, your grace, looking like the ambassadors between House Lannister and House Targaryen. Bey is particularly special because she can travel to Dorne without sweating, but also: golden herself, mother of dragons. Chloë Grace Moretz, in Coach, is a lovely youth so why is she going to work at Liz Claiborne’s team of lawyers ca. 1998. It gets better! Meanwhile there is Kristen Wiig, with designer Prabal Gurung, in a swathe of buttercream to offset the light marsala of Rose Byrne’s lace number. P.S., Bobby Cannavale doesn’t seem so Boardwalk Empire-style murderous on the red carpet, I dunno.
Whatever you think about model Constance Jablonski’s look, you have got to give it up for her dedication to comfort, and the pool party she is no doubt attending later. Kerry Washington is not going to the same place, but she is definitely as dedicated to her princesshood as I am—the Prada pink and green is so perfect on the first 80-degree day in New York in 2015, and I want her to host a Spring Parade. Alternately, Lorde and Francisco Costa are clinging to professional and sleek midnight hues year-round—it is elegant, but they haven’t quite found the balance of Lou Doillon, who is full red carpet, ‘90s gothic, beachside dance audition, in a way that has been heretofore unseen.
Fei Fei Sun basically found the most perfectly fitting, bronze patina, easy-wearing gown she could find? I hope she is wearing comfortable shoes beneath. Grimes always has her own steez—Chanel, usually—but the main thing about this ensemble is that I wonder where she will set her box purse once she sits at a table. Will she hide it beneath the table, or carry it around to complete the ensemble and then stash it underneath a pile of coats onstage while she watches the band? Why, though. Naomi Campbell and Lee Daniels have nothing to babysit, because that is how one must roll in Burberry; handmade, hand-feathered, please do not snag this shit. Selena Gomez, in Vera Wang, is certainly not trying to hold anything for anyone. All-white train, all-white flower crown, do not disturb.
Emily Blunt! I don’t know, embroidery is cool but Fan Bingbing essentially stunted on everyone at this gala, minus Rihanna (goddamn!), with this gorgeous silk cape, covering a stunning gold gown that makes Anne Hathaway’s quasi-stunner (what’s with the hood?) seem like weekend material. There’s also Jennifer Lawrence, in Dior. It’s pretty, but hopefully that’s a break-away skirt so she can dance later.
Katie Holmes! Katie Holmes. This is the color of my favorite fall nail polish, which is called Dive Bar. Lily Collins is in good contrast—the florals on her skirt are lovely—but it’s just not computing. Nor Mary Kate Olsen nor Ashley
Olsen, whose fashion lines are consistently stunning if not pacemaker-inducingly unaffordable, but who know how to dress like businesspeople who are doing that. Whatever, one of my favorite things of this whole smokeshow/shitshow was the dress that Solange wore, by Gilles Deacon, which was an adventurous, artistically interesting, possibly-uncomfortable round pleated experience of an unknown galaxy, and or the chart-topping rave that I’ve been searching for since approximately 1998. I want to live in that dress/rave!
Allison Williams lives in the princess silhouette, no? This is prettier and more interesting than many of her red carpet jams, although the bodice and brooch transport her back to conservative-land, where she seems most comfortable. On the opposite crimson spectrum is Zendaya, who is a young fashion G as ever—that skirt!—and could be a fashion oracle to all of us with those sun signs and the casual, cool arm on designer Fausto Puglisi. Then there is Taraji P. Henson—simple, elegant, cool, not too busy, a pair of earrings, she’s not sweating this thing. Carey Mulligan appreciates understated in her own way, too, with a sparkly collar and a teeny-tiny train.
We’ll have the rest of the best (and the rest of the worst) Tuesday morning, as well as afterparty looks. Stick with us in this moment of fashion chaos!
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