The annual gala for the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute happened recently, and of course, your faithful correspondent was in attendance! (There would have been hell to pay had I not!)
The theme was “Superheroes”, those mythic comic book heroes and heroines in leotards and capes, among other strange fetishistic clothing. No one appreciates a well-built man in Spandex more than moi, but it did seem an oddly petit-bourgeois choice for a costume installation.
However my idol, Anna Wintour, rose to the challenge, in a silver two-piece Chanel costume modeled after "Storm," a character in something called X-Men. I can only assume Storm has something to do with ram's horns.
Most of the guests opted to dress in rather ordinary glamour-carpet gowns, to the disappointment of yours truly. I hoped for a parade of capes, gloves, golden boots, not the usual E! blue plate specials. (For the record, I was in a red satin gown with a matching capelet, gold stiletto heels, and gold gloves, with clutch to match. Bucky accompanied me in a red harness with a little red satin cape with a gold "B" on it. So cute--although he did try to bite Coco Rocha when she bent down to pet him. How does that dog know?)
The absolute worst-dressed women of the evening, however, were the designers themselves. Here is a trio that, if they were Super-Villains, would be called The Hags From Hades, with the power to transform dresses into shapeless, hideous sacks with a wave of their tape measures:
Vera Wang, Donna Karan, Anna Sui
My personal votes for the best dressed woman were polar opposites, but they radiated their own unique style. First we have Sarah Silverman, in her secret identity as Sarabeth, 50s Cutie:
Yes, I know some critics thought she merely looked like a sober version of Amy Winehouse, but since there is no such animal, I cannot agree.
Next we have super heroine Naomi Watts as Queen Lateetha, whose battle cry is “Let There Be Light!” and instantly one’s teeth are blindingly white. She only uses her powers for good.
More later on the many crimes against fashion that were committed before we sat down to dinner in the Temple of Dendur, but I shall leave you with a lovely look at the man with whom I spent the night of the Academy Awards last year, Chris Noth...sigh...who needs George Clooney? (Who was also co-hosting the evening and looking rather drawn, if I may say so.)
Ciao,
Elisa & Bucky The Wonderdog
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