Elba

Oh fay-shun. You look like rainy exile.

Last night, despite drizzle and reports of a flagging guest list, The Costume Institute Ball at the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Anna Wintour's Great Big Themed Fay-shun Museum Corporation Party) went off as it tends to, in a stupid, spring flash. This year: "The Model as Muse," another show that exemplifies this long-curdled era of servitude to luxury industries at the Costume Institute (the directorship of which was my childhood dream). If I'd been asked to curate an exhibition it might have worked in tandem with the fantastic "Pictures Generation" show, a study of artists' clothes and/or gender-neutral/gender-ironic outfitting in the 70s and 80s, or a show about cooperative clothes, fashion and Utopian socialism, fashion and communism. Oh well.

What this barbecue is good for is a fat folio of red carpet snaps, much more sophisticated and absorbing than most. As far as those go, I find that Marc Jacobs behaved hatefully (except maybe for that crazy, cartoon Poiret situation he put on Blair Waldorf?). And not to harp on GG stars, but is Serena wearing a bonafide "scripper gown"? Mostly, folks looked great. And I am so pleased about the return of Fortuny, and approving of their chosen "muse," the super lovely Natalia Vodianova.