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A severe Met dressing-down
The Metropolitan Museum of Art has long been a focal point for high fashion and cultural celebration, yet recent gala events have sparked discussions about evolving dress codes and societal norms.
This year’s gathering saw many women adorned in daring styles that seemed to blur the lines between high fashion and casual comfort. Attendees opted for ensembles that eschewed traditional undergarments like bras and girdles, embracing a more liberated approach to style.
Gone were the days of restrictive attire; instead, the emphasis was on fluidity and ease. Outfits were designed to be effortlessly worn, moving away from the constraints of zippers and tight-fitting clothing, which seemed to be reserved for the older generation footing the bill.
The fashion choices highlighted a shift towards accessibility and freedom, with garments designed to allow ease of movement and a relaxed vibe. This trend speaks volumes about contemporary fashion’s move towards inclusivity and comfort, reflecting broader changes in societal attitudes towards personal expression and respect.
Wriggling out of anything tight? Naah. Because how each was dressed all the necessary parts were available.
Fie on drawers, girdles, slips, bras. Everyone’s entire plumbing ability guaranteed instant accessibility.
Shove jewelry. You just stuck a candle in someone’s navel.
Even my dog knows enough to wear a bellyband.
Underwear is now outerwear.
Next year, forget a handbag — just bring a tweezer.
When the angel Gabriel came to be blessed — even he wore more.
On the side lines
A FEW remarks one may have repeated and overheard at galas, years past and imagined:
Hunter Biden: “That was not my computer.”
Wrong Way Corrigan: “I told you, take a left.”
Sitting Bull: “What’s that? I booked a sofa.”
The Tonys statuette: “This is WHAT?!”
Elon Musk: “Please, a penny earned is a billion lost.”
Bill Clinton: “I don’t know what you’re accusing me of, but whatever it is I didn’t do it.”
Former Prince Andrew, Duke of York: “Epstein who?”
New Jersey’s ex-Sen. Menendez: “But the gold bricks were small.”
Driverless Tesla occupant: “Listen, just back up.”
Bill de Blasio: “So which way is uptown?”
MTA chairman: “No, $20 is not too much to pay for one stop to 59th Street.”
Tourist: “Where’d you say Saks Fifth once was?”
Diddy: “No, not Rambo — bimbo.”
Kim Kardashian: “Caesar was who?”
Napoleon: “So what, Tom Cruise is also short.”
Travis Kelce: “At least I can hum.”
Smoking-hot flicks up next
UNTIL Cuba reopens for cigars and beaches — or sons of beaches — here’s all we will have of it: NY’s Havana Film Festival comedies about love and sex, plus some more about more love and sex. It’s alien encounters, and local storytelling. Titles such as “Havana Coyotes” and “My Cuban Dream” are playing at DGA Theater in Midtown West and Quad Cinema near Union Square. Last night is tomorrow. So smoke a Cohiba until they throw you out — and — caramba! — mucho mazel tov to you all.
SO this Met Gala invitee — a nobody male who rides the subway because it’s the only way to get his suit pressed — was escorting a somebody female, and he said to this Size 0 model, whose ears were smaller than her boobs: “Either your dress is too short or you’re in it too far.”
May God and the United States of America bless us all.