This is such a face-plant for me.
I just feel like… look, yes, we poke fun at a lot of the big statements that are crazy (Marc), or ugly (Florence), or so terrible they’re wonderful (hi, Sev), but we’d be bereft without them. This is the MET BALL, Heidi. We already know you like short skirts and long overhangs. You could wear this outfit in your sleep. I would not be surprised if you’d once worn this to sleep. And this isn’t even a good version of that theme. It’s a dowdy lace curtain, which is a stunning truth to tell about a dress that shows so much leg, and yet here we are. Do something else! Be bravely fugly, or battily fab. Have a little fun with it. Get us talking, not napping. Make Seal cry with regret. Although then maybe he’d end up raking in millions by writing a heartbreak ballad that gets used in every drippy Nicholas Sparks trailer until the end of time, so… maybe just make him prickle with uncreative regret.
Heidi’s All-Stars replacement, Angela Lindvall, went in a totally different direction.
This is nuts. And yet there is a part of me — you guys are going to pass out — that likes it a little bit. Not for normal life; only in this context. It’s exactly the right event to show up dressed like a rich old crackpot: a melange of great retro patterns, and an overlay either of the Draper wives would probably wear… it’s like she’s wearing four coats and a dickey with her Church slacks. It’s delicious in the way it both baffles me and seems to make a lot of sense. And I’d so much rather look at this, and dissect it, and love/hate/hate/love it, than what La Klum ended up wearing. At least this is challenging me. It’s forcing me to admit that, on this night and this night alone, I am not mad at sixty-four dresses over a pair of pants. It was a cool risk. And further, I’ve just decided my band Four Coats and a Dickey is playing soon at a bowling alley near you, so once you wake up from your dead faint please come say hi.