Jessica and I were discussing how much more we love the Met Ball than any of the awards ceremonies, and I think it’s because of a few key factors: a) It comes up during a dry period, so we’re always thankful to have such a hotbed of material; b) it’s NONSTOP A-listers, and the melange of people is often very random because nobody is beholden to, say, nominated actors, nor even working ones; and c) the Emmys come right after Fashion Week, so we’re exhausted, and by the Oscars we’re so sick of the same old freaking people that we just put down our heads and plow through and hope we come out the other end sober. The Met Ball, then, not only draws more interesting clothes, but it’s like a fresh wind blowing through a stale attic.
All of which is to say: Welcome back, Shailene Woodley. It was nice to have time to miss you.
And this is such a funky statement — it’s fireworks meets a really good aquarium, crossed with something I once saw on a slide during biology class and then immediately dismissed because I knew I was not going to continue with biology any further than I was academically required. I think it’s interesting and unusual and beautiful, and it also makes me want to go to Vegas and ogle all the crazy stuff they put in the Bellagio lobby. Bad for my bank account, great for my soul. Much like a lot of these clothes.