Auntie Fashion

Anna Wintour

I have to admit that I took one look at my invitation to the superhero-themed Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute Gala, then I crumpled it up and threw it into the trash.  Sure, it would have been nice to attend such a star-studded event, but I couldn’t go.  I’m no superhero.  I used to be, but I’m not anymore.

However, I did send my several of my operatives, including the heroic Tom Ford/Drofmot and his trusty sidekick Richard Buckley (who probably wore a mask and some tights).  They were there to keep an eye on the Evil AntiZob, who attended with his partner in malevolence, Sophia Coppola.  I’ll be expecting a briefing shortly.  Who knows what sort of evil my allies may have witnessed?

Speaking of evil, Anna Wintour looked anything but evil in her gorgeous Chanel Haute Couture gown.  In fact, it may have been the most appropriate dress on the red carpet for a superhero-themed event.  Her character can be called Platinum, and her powers can include selling ad pages and elegantly deflecting criticism.

Kudos also go to Amber Valletta, Naomi Watts, Christina Ricci and Lynda Carter for getting into the spirit of the event.

Now, back to the criticism.  I do understand how the Costume Gala works.  The event is sponsored.  The tables are sponsored.  The clothes are sponsored.  Everything is basically a big exercise in PR to draw attention to the Met, underwritten by the generosity of select donors.  Meanwhile, many of the celebrities who attend lend credence to the event by donating their presence; their star power is their currency.  Still, I wonder who actually donates money to the Met.

That gives me an idea.  Wouldn’t it be great if someone like Tom Cruise (who attended last night’s event) donated a dollar amount equivalent to the free outfit he got from Giorgio Armani?  Wouldn’t it be great if he did the same thing at every event he attended every time he got a free outfit?  Even if he had to return the clothes afterward, it wouldn’t even put a dent in his bank account.

Maybe he does donate a ton of money each time he attends a party like this — I have no idea where his money goes.  I’m a little leery of celebrities in free clothes, though.  As I’ve already mentioned, I understand the concept of endorsement.  I just don’t trust people to take the high road when it’s right in front of them.  It takes a real superhero to go the extra mile.

Hilary Swank in Versace.

 In what might have been one of the most nap-inducing red carpet events I’ve ever seen, Hilary Swank woke me up and slapped me across the face like an award-winning dominatrix.  She dresses like a movie star, which is all I can ask an actress to do at the Oscars.

Onstage, the dress looked gorgeous at a distance.  Swank wears architectural shapes well, and the hard lines of the bodice actually softened her athletic frame.  Upon closer inspection, the embellishments appeared as if they could have been made of rubber attached to a backing of translucent vinyl instead of lace on tulle.

It gave a suggestion of kink without giving up an iota of discretion.  I’ve been a big fan of Donatella’s Versace for the past few seasons because the label has become so wearable.  Now it’s beginning to fill the void that was left in Italian fashion when Tom Ford left Gucci.

The first red carpet review I read this morning cited Swank’s dress as the worst of the evening.  The article went on to praise every other dress, including Miley Cyrus in Valentino.  What’s wrong with that sentence?  If you don’t already know, don’t ask me to explain.  You’re as hopeless as the twatchop who awarded the worst-dressed distinction to Ms. Swank.

Leave the fashion criticism to the experts, please.  Your pathetic tries bring tears to Zob’s eyes.

Of all the people in the universe who could have co-hosted the Oscar pre-show on E!, why on earth did they choose Kim Kardashian?  I can just imagine the meeting where the network brass came up with that idea: “We need a glamorous woman who Americans associate with good taste and impeccable style.  Get me Kim Kardashian’s agent on the phone!”

I thought that they hit rock bottom when Lisa Rinna and Joey Fatone worked the carpet for the SAG awards.  I guess I was wrong.

Klassiness personified.

I hate the red carpet.  I guess I blame Joan Rivers for that.  Don’t get me wrong; I love the caustic bitch.  But ever since she turned the red carpet into a horse race with her pre- and post-award show commentaries, everyone else has been trying to get in on her act.

 The problem with that is that most fashion critics have no idea what they’re talking about.  They have a sense of history that goes back two weeks and a sense of style that can only be described as pedestrian.  If I have to listen to another Z-list celebrity fawn over some starlet decked-out in precious prom regalia, I’m going to retch.

Anyway, I’ve abbreviated “The Wretched Red Carpet” in order to name this section of my blog: The Wred Carpet.  With the mother of all red carpets scheduled to take place tomorrow, I’ll have plenty to make you nauseous soon enough.  Bring a bucket.

Not a fashion critic.