One of my more self-indulgent activities is to watch red carpets for every award show. I enjoy looking at the glamour, or what used to be glamour, and wondering at the lovely dresses, handbags, jewels, while I fantasized about the world in which these few entitled people inhabit.
Now, let’s begin by saying that theses persons are not entitled because they were handed millions on a gold leaf platter. That is an entirely different category of individuals, like the millionaire marxists currently leading the chanting nationwide for global intifada and genocide against the world’s only Jewish state.
No, most of those on the red carpet are there not because they don’t deserve to be, they have worked hard, they have honed their craft, they have put everything aside to flourish in their career. They are also the lucky ones who got noticed by someone who would mentor them. (It’s not jealousy to acknowledge that there are an untold number of similarly talented people who never get their shot- it’s why American Idol or America’s Got Talent, and all their ilk, are such great hits.)
But it also doesn’t mean, that simply because you worked hard, and thrived at your chosen profession, that you have any taste whatsoever. (Or the people you hire to help you have any taste whatsoever.) I have watched these red carpets go from classic elegance, to grunge, to see through classless nonsense, to who can outweird each other the most thinking they are coming off as some kind of rebel (they are not). Sometimes, it seems that the idea of a true fashionista or hollywood star is completely lost on so many with the privilege to be anything they want to be.
However, I could actually say, that this year, I really liked most of what I saw on the red carpet at The Met Gala. First, let me begin by saying that I liked the theme. Most of the themes of years past I found ridiculous, or off putting, sometimes rather stupid (Camp; Punk; Catholic Imagination; Manus x Machina).
Now granted its not necessarily the themes that is always the issue, its what is worn that is in question. I don’t think that self-deprecation is sophisticated. I find it unappealing. And when you wear the ridiculous, it is not showing any self-respect. It is not cool, woke, or any word that is the de rigueur word for forward thinking at present, when what you wear makes you the butt of a joke. Quite the contrary.
Wearing idiotic costumes is for attention, and attention alone. I find that there is something unwell about a person who is so needy that they wear see through clothes with their private parts hanging out. That is not glamour, that is exhibitionism. Tacky. Classless. Uncouth.
On the other hand, I think we actually did see alot of class/glamour/elegance on the red carpet this year at The Met Gala.
In fact, what I enjoyed immensely was when the celebrities talked about the dresses they wore. The thousands of hours of artistry it took to make them. Many ladies said that what they were wearing actually belongs in a museum, these dresses are such works of art. Unfortunately, no matter how good the resolution on your streaming device, you simply could not partake of the depth of the beauty of these gowns. The totality of the artistry was still lost on the viewer.
And I know I have lamented about the fact that what is generally on a runway is not something the average person can wear, even though the clothing is meant for general consumption.
But in truth, the reason you watch these red carpets, particularly The Met Gala, is because you know that you will not be wearing these clothes. You know you are witnessing an art show.
And art it truly was. (See all the pictures) Mostly.
Now I am not saying that I totally understood the theme this year either, “Sleeping Beauties: Reawakening Fashion.” I heard it was taken from a short story, The Garden of Time where the masses rise up and kill the elites. So much for a party with tickets starting at $75,000 a pop.
But I prefer the idea of sleeping beauty awakening into the world of flowers.
To me it seems totally joyful.
I am very partial to flowers, tulips, asian lilies, peonies and hydrangea to be exact. If you put a flower on it, I will love it.
Flowers bring me joy. They are a symbol of rebirth. Of the world awakening anew.
A tabula rosa.
An untouched, unblemished, unruined slate that holds every hope of humankind.
So the rebirth of flowers bring hope. That perhaps, this year, at this time, humanity may do better than the year before.
We can only hope…..
While not giving a damn about these societal aberrations either way, I most definitely would love a front row seat to see them on Jeopardy.