If you, like me, feel as if the 2021 Met Gala only just happened, give yourself a hearty pat on the back for your instincts are correct. The last one was all of six and a half months ago, which is easy to remember because everyone showed up wearing tents. (September in New York, eh?)
The ‘Gilded Glamour’ (and Unchecked Folly) of the 2022 Met Gala
Initially, due to the “Gilded Glamour” theme, it seemed like MG’22 was simply going to be a chic affair that made everyone not in attendance feel like gross, poverty-stricken plebeians. (Which it kind of does every year once you realize that it costs $35,000 per person to attend. Meaning a single table costs between $200,000 and $300,000.)
Indeed, the theme did lend itself to attracting many elegant and enviable gowns. Like Janelle Monáe’s, which took her established android vibe to an even more stunning place than usual:
Then there was Tessa Thompson looking like an actual dream:
Sabrina Carpenter somehow made a belly-dancing-costume-inspired ensemble seem effortlessly cool:
Lizzo showed up looking like royalty, stopping only to play the flute (a goddamn gold flute!) on the red carpet:
While Kid Cudi demonstrated how you Man Fashion without making a sorry spectacle of yourself:
Which is kind of the opposite of what Bad Bunny did in this butcher paper moment and matronly up-do:
Also cringe was the kid from The Power of the Dog who showed up looking like he slept through his alarm, rolled out of bed and, in a panic, made a quick stop at grandma’s to grab a brooch and her best dishwashing gloves. (Who did this to you, Kodi Smit-McPhee?)
At the opposite end of the effort scale was fashion entrepreneur (whatever that means), Fredrik Robertsson. Robertsson showed up in an ensemble so patently ridiculous, people thought he was Jared Leto for a full 10 minutes. (I mean... the self-satisfied glare does bear an incredible similarity...)
All of which managed to make Jared Leto look less like a cult leader for a spell. And—who knew?—all he had to do was arrive wearing ... not a be-tendrilled silver skin suit from a 1970s roller disco movie in space.
Wait! No! There it is!
Still, even as some of the kook on display took itself to a trying-too-hard place, some stars got weird in the best way possible.
Like Winnie Harlow, who took a Flash Gordon headpiece and some taffeta and made it frickin’ fabulous:
And Emma Corrin, who somehow made ‘Pageboy From A Haunted Painting In Tilda Swinton’s Country Mansion’ work:
Kendall Jenner also deserves an honorary mention for having faith that she would look dope with with no eyebrows. Because, it turns out, she looks dope with no eyebrows:
Other things to note that no one actually wants to see here:
- Elon Musk showed up looking like the haunted mannequin from Kodi Smit-McPhee’s grandma’s attic.
- Bella Hadid arrived like the shadow person from Kodi Smit-McPhee’s grandma’s basement.
- Gigi Hadid came dressed as an inflatable red slide from The Fifth Element, thereby bringing the ’90s revival to its natural conclusion.
- Dakota Johnson was dressed like an updated version of Zuul from Ghostbusters, but it was kinda-sorta okay (even though a Rottweiler accessory would really have completed the look).
- Kim Kardashian and Pete Davidson looked actually very cute together and I can’t talk about it while I’m still processing.
- Travis Barker decided he simply must put his tongue in Kourtney Kardashian’s mouth on the red carpet, lest there was a person left on Earth that hadn’t seen him do that yet.
- Kylie Jenner wore a wedding-veil-attached-to-a-white-baseball-cap and no one cares if you married Travis Scott dude.
- I don’t want to say anything bad about the wonder that is Chloe Bailey, so I’m just going to leave this photo here, back out of the room slowly like Homer Simpson into that hedge, and glare at her stylist from afar.
This year’s Met Gala was hosted by Regina King, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds—all of whom looked lovely in a forgettable sort of way. Probably because they were paid to be there and don’t need the column inches.
Until next year! (Or... you know... six and a half months—pandemic conditions permitting.)