Dahlings –
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