The internet has driven itself into a meltdown, chattering over the red carpet fashions at the
Met Ball, which was held in honor of the Costume Institute’s new exhibit devoted to the genius
couturier Charles James. The celebrities in attendance wore outfits careening from the
entertainingly atrocious to the truly elegant. I loved them all, maybe because unlike at
the Oscars, no one was pretending that they just happened to toss on a ten-ton designer gown
for an otherwise serious-minded event. The Met Ball was a celebration of fashion,
in all of its glorious excess and occasional restraint.
Sarah Jessica Parker was sensational in an Oscar de la Renta – SJP always seems
genuinely knowledgeable about fashion.
The internet was a bit divided over Neal Patrick Harris and David Burtka, but I think they look
great, and what’s more, I bet that Charles James would have agreed.
I knew Mr. James just a bit. After graduating from drama school, my friend William Ivey Long
moved into the Chelsea Hotel, mostly so that he might work with his idol, Charles James.
Mr. James was notoriously eccentric, but William would invite him to tea, where he'd end up
enjoying himself.
Mr. James, who was well into his sixties by that point, was tiny, and he dyed his hair jet
black with a substance which resembled shoe polish. He would walk his ancient dog,
Sputnik, through the halls of the hotel. At that time I had long hair, which caused me
to resemble a less appealing My Little Pony. I also had an extremely prominent nose.
Mr. James once stared at me in the elevator, and then commanded, "My dear boy,
your nose is enormous! You must cut your hair and be proud of your nose! You must
tell the world, look at my nose! Behold!"
I listened to Mr. James, and the very next day I got a nice short haircut.
Here is Mr. James at work, in his younger years:
A photo can never do Mr. James’ work justice, so if you can,
head to the Met.