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Costume Institute Gala: A Perspective
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I was having a miserable evening. I had to cook and wash the dishes yet again because my husband is sick with the flu. In fact, my entire family has the flu. That’s how totally unfashionable we are. The rest of the world had the flu months ago.
Still, after getting everyone their dinner, cleaning up, handing out meds, and rubbing mentholatum on my husband’s chest, what do I see? A virtual projectile spew of stars all dressed up with somewhere fabulous to go: The Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute Gala. The event was held to celebrate its new Spring exhibit, something equally frothy and frivolous, Superhero costumes and couture.
I couldn’t help but be a little envious. There was Jennifer Lopez who’d just given birth to twins looking amazing in a little blue number. How did she get her body back? I gave birth six years ago, and I’m still waiting. Maybe mine got lost.
Then there’s Katie Holmes, towering over Tom Cruise in her dayglo pumps. Sure the outfit is a little silly, and her husband is on the short side. Still I couldn’t help thinking how much she probably looks forward to rubbing mentholatum on her husband’s chest.
There I sat, in the blue haze of the computer, staring at picture after picture of Glamour with a capital “G.” I don’t think the Oscars has this many stars. Christina Ricci, Beyonce, Hilary Duff, Fergie, Taylor Swift, Helena Christensen, Eva Longoria, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Julia Roberts, Giorgio Armani, Naomi Watts, David and Victoria Beckham, Scarlett Johansson, George Clooney, John Mayer, Ashely & Mary Kate Olsen, Liv Tyler, Sarah Silverman, Janet Jackson, Claire Danes. Hollywood must have been a ghost town.
For a moment, I turned green in that blue haze. Then my youngest daughter tugged on my nightgown. She was feeling feverish. Sighing, I turned of the computer and said goodbye to my fantasy friends.
I picked my daughter up, gave her a couple of St. Joseph’s, put her in bed with me and my sicko husband, who still reeked of medicinal inhaler, and we snuggled down under the covers. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about all those stars at the Met. They may have a glamorous life, but it’s nowhere near as sweet as mine.
