Entertainment

The 2019 Met Gala was...ehhh...

Reporter Lainey Blanks

The 2019 Met Gala had everything imaginable, except an adjective to describe it. A fundraiser for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute, the annual Met Gala is a hot spot for any and all celebrities to dress in the wildest most exquisite attire. This year’s theme was announced as, “Camp: Notes on Fashion.” A set theme that is more loose then the scandals of it’s attendees, “Camp” took ultimate inspiration from Susan Sontag’s famous essay on an aesthetic catharsis she described as, “ Love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration.” Sontag’s statement should reflect an obsequious perspective on personal expression and breaking boundaries, but in the end result the only boundaries seemed to be confined to the party city parking lot. So to speak, while this year’s anticipated look was most definitely exaggerated it was borderline grotesque. The 2019 Met Gala is not for the faint of heart, for everyone was in either layers of abstract complex obstosity or as savvy prowesses giving flirty stripteases instead of a smile. If one life lesson was imbedded from this fashion show it’s that when we let our imaginations loose from our rose-colored bubble true art will pursue.

While it’s impossible to classify an event with no boundaries, I find they fit best into most outrageously well executed and most disturbing that didn’t hit the mark.

First to catch my eye is Hamish Bowles with a technicolor sweeping show stopping cape, Bowles shamelessly struts in purple clogs with a androgynous suit and tie to match. Like a Doctor Suess book on the run, Bowles feathers of many colors will leave you in shock and awe, or debating if the free samples were laced with psychedelics.

The trap queen who’s Thom Browne gown lowered my expectations was no other then the infamous Cardi B. Cardi wore a poofy textured red monstrosity that can only be described as having the potential for a successful Mattress Firm commercial. Besides the misplaced “poofs”, Cardi’s shoulders jut out with very faux feathers that match the sloppy sticky fingered gemstones glued to her headdress. The cherry on top is how she marched through the painful procession with a 20 foot train of something I can roughly describe as poorly attached bath mats. Points for creativity, but better luck next year.