Lifestyle
Inside the Most Politically Charged Met Gala in Years
Last October, when the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute announced its next fashion show, “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” the political landscape looked very different.
Kamala Harris, the first female vice president and the first Black woman ever to top a major-party ticket, was in the final weeks of her campaign for the White House. The show, the culmination of five years of work by Andrew Bolton, the Costume Institute’s curator in charge, to diversify the department’s holdings and shows in the wake of the racial reckoning brought about by George Floyd’s murder, seemed long overdue.
On Monday, however, when it finally opens to the starry guests at its signature gala, the splashiest party of the year, it will do so in a very different world. One in which the federal government has functionally declared war on diversity, equity and inclusion, as well as programming related to race — especially in cultural institutions.
In February, President Trump seized control of the Kennedy Center, promising to make its programming less “woke.” Then, in late March, he signed an executive order targeting what the administration described as “improper, divisive, or anti-American ideology” at the Smithsonian museums and threatened to withhold funds for exhibits that “divide Americans by race.”
Against that backdrop, the Met’s show, one devoted for the first time entirely to designers of color, which focuses on the way Black men have used fashion as a tool of self-actualization, revolution and subversion throughout American history and the Black diaspora, has taken on an entirely different relevance.
Suddenly the Met, one of the world’s wealthiest and most established museums, has begun to look like the resistance. And the gala, which in recent years has been criticized as a tone-deaf display of privilege and fashion absurdity, is being seen as what Brandice Daniel, the founder of Harlem’s Fashion Row, a platform created to support designers of color, called a display of “allyship.”
Especially because Anna Wintour, the Met Gala’s mastermind, a powerful democratic fund-raiser and the chief content officer of Condé Nast, said on “The Late Late Show” in 2017 that the one person she would never invite back to the fete was Mr. Trump.
The collision of cultural and current events means the Met is now sitting at the red-hot “center of where fashion meets the political economy,” said Tanisha C. Ford, a history professor at the City University of New York Graduate Center.
“This feels way bigger than just fashion,” said Louis Pisano, a cultural critic and the writer of the newsletter Discoursted. “Putting Black style front and center sends a real message.”
“I didn’t think I would see it in my lifetime,” said Sandrine Charles, a publicist and co-founder of the Black in Fashion Council.
That has left the companies sponsoring the show and the gala, including Instagram and Louis Vuitton — both of which are owned by corporations actively courting the Trump administration — walking a precarious tightrope. It has raised the stakes around what has become known as “the party of the year.” And it has turned a pop culture event into a potential political statement.
So Who’s Going?
This year, more Black designers are expected to be worn on the opening party’s red carpet, more Black stylists are dressing celebrities, and more Black celebrities are expected to attend than ever in the gala’s 77-year history. Along with Ms. Wintour, the gala’s co-chairs are ASAP Rocky, Lewis Hamilton, Colman Domingo and Pharrell Williams; the honorary chair is LeBron James.
“It’s important that we don’t sit this one out,” Mr. Pisano said. “Not when Black fashion is finally being centered in an institution that has historically excluded it.” He was talking about both the show and the gala. “I’m already bracing for the conservative backlash once they pay attention to it, and that’s why it’s especially important that people show up,” he continued.
Though few specifics are known about the guest list, which is controlled by Ms. Wintour and kept secret until the event, there have been some leaks and confirmations.
Mark Zuckerberg, the chairman of Meta, who has been wooing the president, is not attending the gala this year. Adam Mosseri, however, the chief executive of Instagram, which is owned by Meta, will be there, as he has in the past.
Bernard Arnault, the chairman of LVMH, who was at the Trump inauguration, will sit the event out, as he has since 1996, but Pietro Beccari, the chief executive of Louis Vuitton, an LVMH brand, is attending. Jeff Bezos and his fiancée, Lauren Sánchez, who attended last year, are not expected to be there this year, nor is Mr. Trump’s right-hand man, Elon Musk, who attended three times before, most recently in 2022. Michael R. Bloomberg, who gave $50 million to support Ms. Harris in the last election, will be attending — and rumor has it Ms. Harris, currently mulling her political future, might as well.
The irony, Ms. Wintour said, is that “the show was never about politics, not in conception, not now.” Rather, she added, it was about “self-determination, beauty, creativity and holding up a lens to history.”
At the same time, she acknowledged, “the Met recognizing and taking seriously the contributions of Black designers and the Black community in fashion has a heightened meaning in 2025.”
Always Fraught for Different Reasons
Back in 2021, when Mr. Bolton first started thinking about the exhibition, which is based on a 2009 academic text called “Slaves to Fashion” by Monica L. Miller, a Barnard professor whom he also enlisted as co-curator of the show, there were other concerns about how it might be received. Specifically, whether the Costume Institute — a department that has never had a Black curator, and part of a museum with its own history of racism — would botch an exhibition about the sartorial reclamation of the Black male body and the use of fashion as a tool of liberation.
Adding further complications was the fact that Ms. Wintour, the department’s greatest champion (it was renamed the Anna Wintour Costume Center in 2014), had in the past faced her own allegations of creating a racially insensitive workplace at Vogue. Not to mention that, despite the many D.E.I. initiatives after 2020, the fashion world has seemingly failed to make good on those promises; of the more than 15 appointments at the top of major brands this year, not a single one was a designer of color.
Mr. Bolton and Ms. Wintour were “self-aware enough to know that they could not pull this off without the deep involvement and advice of the community involved,” said Gabriela Karefa-Johnson, a stylist and Vogue’s former global contributing editor at large (she left in 2023).
That meant bringing in not just Professor Miller but the modern dandy Iké Udé as a consultant. It meant working with a who’s-who of prominent Black creatives: Torkwase Dyson on the show space, Tanda Francis on the mannequins, Tyler Mitchell on the catalog and Kwame Onwuachi on the menu. It meant having the first “host committee” since 2019, and holding special advance panel discussions at the Apollo Theater in Harlem and the Billie Holiday Theater in Bed-Stuy.
There were also some concerns about whether “Hollywood would understand the assignment,” Professor Ford said, referring to worries about how certain guests might dress for the gala. “Would there be people who perhaps misrepresented Black culture and Black dress?” she went on.
Ms. Karefa-Johnson put it more dryly. “I just really don’t want to see any floor-length durags or pimp canes,” she said. (Still, she called the fact the show is happening in the current climate “poetic.”) Jeffrey Banks, a designer whose work is included in the exhibition, called it “revolutionary.”
“I have immense respect for the fact they’ve decided to have this conversation and stand strong in the face of that risk,” Téla D’Amore of Who Decides War, a brand also featured in the exhibition, said of the Met.
Still, unlike the Smithsonian, the Met’s dependence on government funds is negligible. As a private institution, the Met is not subject to the government’s anti-D.E.I. policies. The museum’s diversity statement is still posted on its website for all to see. (A 13-point “antiracism and diversity plan” unveiled in 2020 was incorporated into the museum’s strategic plan in 2022, according to a spokeswoman and is no longer available.)
Its most significant relationship with the government may be through the federal Art and Artifacts Indemnity Program, an initiative administered by the National Endowment for the Arts that insures art that travels to or from American museums, providing peace of mind for lenders that their masterpieces are protected by the government, and defraying institutional costs. The Met has its own insurance, but it applies for federal indemnity for its largest, most high-value shows, giving the government some leverage.
Which is why many involved with ”Superfine” are focused not just on the gala evening, with all its star-studded glamour, or the exhibition’s reception, but on what happens next.
“Does it swing all the way back next year?” asked Maxwell Osborne, the designer of anOnlyChild. “Like, you know, we had Obama for two terms, and then we go all the way back.”
Sunday Puzzle
NPR
hide caption
toggle caption
NPR
This week’s challenge
Today’s puzzle is a tribute to Mimi. Every answer is a familiar two word phrase or name in which each word starts with the letters MI-.
Ex. Assignment for soldiers –> MILITARY MISSION
1. Pageant title for a contestant from Detroit
2. One of the Twin Cities
3. Nickname for the river through New Orleans
4. Super short skirt
5. Neighborhood in Los Angeles that contains Museum Row
6. Just over four times the distance from the earth to the moon
7. Goateed sing-along conductor of old TV
8. American financier who pioneered so-called “junk bonds”
9. Little accident
10. Land-based weapon in America’s nuclear arsenal
11. In “Snow White,” the evil queen’s words before “on the wall”
Last week’s challenge
Last week’s challenge comes from Benita Rice, of Salem, Ore. Name a famous foreign landmark (5,4). Change the eighth letter to a V and rearrange the result to make an adjective that describes this landmark. What landmark is it?
Answer
Notre Dame –> Renovated
Winner
Chee Sing Lee of Bangor, Maine
This week’s challenge
This week’s challenge comes from James Ellison, of Jefferson City, Mo. Think of a popular movie of the past decade. Change the last letter in its title. The result will suggest a lawsuit between two politicians of the late 20th century — one Republican and one Democrat. What’s the movie and who are the people?
If you know the answer to the challenge, submit it below by Thursday, April 23 at 3 p.m. ET. Listeners whose answers are selected win a chance to play the on-air puzzle.
This story is part of Image’s April’s Thresholds issue, a tour of L.A. architecture as it’s actually experienced.
A landmark is a landmark because it tells you that you’re home now — the piece of earth you’ve chosen to inhabit saying, “You’ve made it back, congratulations.” We identify our cities with their landmarks, and because we identify with our cities, we identify with the landmarks too. They are us and we are them, mirroring each other through eternity. A city like New York or Chicago, with the Chrysler Building, the Bean, etc., has landmarks that exist in the world’s popular consciousness. But L.A.’s most cherished landmarks belong to us and us alone, a secret you’re let in on if you live here long enough and pay attention.
The Fashion Nova baddie in horizontal sprawl off the Vertigo, for example, is an emblem for those in the know. Our twisted version of a capitalist guardian angel, patron saint of spandex in a cropped matching set. Welcome to El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles de Fashion Nova. Merging on the 110 South from the 10 East while the sunset burns and traffic thickens is a miracle in more ways than one, and in the spirit of compulsively performing the sign of the cross when you pass a church on the freeway, this billboard is deserving of its own acknowledgment.
It may not be the landmark L.A. asked for, but in Sayre Gomez’s painting “Vertigo,” you begin to understand why it’s the one we deserve. At the opening for “Precious Moments,” Gomez’s solo show at David Kordansky, the room was vibrating. A game of energetic ping-pong unfolded underneath the gallery’s fluorescent light, beams of identification, recollections or stabs of grief bouncing off each piece in the exhibition. People were seeing hyperspecific parts of a city they love reflected in a hyperspecific way — for better and for worse. Recognition has two edges and they both happen to be sharp. Gomez twists the knife deeper for a good cause: He wants you not just to look but to really see.
In his work exist iconic signs of beloved local establishments — like the Playpen — the blinding glint reflecting off downtown’s skyline, telephone poles regarded as totems. The line to see Gomez’s replica of L.A.’s graffiti towers, “Oceanwide Plaza,” snaked through the gallery’s courtyard. Once inside, at least three graffiti writers whose names were blasted on the replica pointed it out proudly, even gave out stickers to take home. The truth can be beautiful and it can be ugly — in this case it’s both — on the flip side showing up in the form of smog, tattered flags and an abandoned graffiti tower that starkly represents the pitfalls of capitalism and greed, a neon arrow pointing to the homelessness crisis.
Because the Vertigo is something everybody who lives here recognizes as central to a sort of framework of Los Angeles. And I think the encampment has become that as well. It’s connecting these integral components — something that’s more revelatory and more fun with something that’s more grave.
— Sayre Gomez
In the main gallery, I was stuck on “Vertigo.” On the 12-foot canvas, my eye went to the place out of focus: the thin strip of billboard in the background featuring a young woman with sand-dune hips, patent knee-high boots and long black hair laid up on her side, wearing cat ears and a tiger bodysuit as flush as second skin. The model made the kind of eye contact that felt dangerous — might cause an accident if you’re not careful. “#1 Halloween Destination … FASHION NOVA,” it read. I knew her, anyone who has driven through the two main arteries of Los Angeles knows her. The black-and-white smiley motif of the Vertigo, an events space, sat right next to her face, just happy to be there, it seemed, above a painted sign that says “Ready to Party?”
The sky was the color of cotton candy, but the stale kind that’s been hardening in a plastic bag for days after the fair. Something rancid about it. In the foreground of the painting was a car encampment with a tattered floral sheet woven through the windows, cloth tarps and couch cushions creating a shield against the elements. Small plastic children’s toys lined at the top of the car — dinosaurs and dump trucks and sharks — creating their own shrunken skyline in front of the Vertigo, signaling that young kids likely lived there. It’s less juxtaposition for juxtaposition’s sake and more an accurate reflection of the breakneck duality of living in a place like L.A.
Even angels exist within the context of their environments. Our Fashion Nova baddie hangs off the Vertigo, a building that has used its ad space as physical clickbait and political posturing for over a decade. It’s promoting the kind of fast fashion brand that’s been regarded as a case study on the industry’s environmental impact. In the years the billboard has been up, it’s looked over dozens and dozens of car encampments like the one depicted in Gomez’s piece.
She feels dubious, yes. But no less like ours.
Julissa James: I’ve lived in L.A. for 13 years now. For me, the city and the architecture of the city is less the Frank Lloyd Wrights and Frank Gehrys — there’s that — but other landmarks that signal, “Oh, I’m home.” The Fashion Nova baddie above the Vertigo has always been that for me. Your piece is layered and there’s so much more to it than just that, but that’s the first thing I saw and was like, “Whoa. I need to talk to Sayre. We need to talk about ‘Vertigo.’”
Sayre Gomez: It’s like L.A.’s Statue of Liberty. It’s the city of anti-landmarks, you know what I mean? I mean, there’s the Hollywood sign, which I think is so telling, because it’s the remnants of a real estate venture. The city is built by real estate schemes and 100 years later we’re feeling the effects of it. You’ve got empty skyscrapers and a massive homeless catastrophe. L.A. doesn’t really have real landmarks. It has anti-landmarks.
JJ: When did the Fashion Nova billboard above the Vertigo click for you as something that felt representative of the city, or something that you wanted to depict?
SG: My studio is in Boyle Heights, so I pass that billboard multiple times a week. This is my 20th year in L.A. and that building’s always been a big mystery to me. It was empty when I moved here before this guy Shawn Farr bought it and turned it into Casa Vertigo. I think he probably makes more money on it with the ad space than anything. I know nobody who has ever been there. Very mysterious to me. So that’s what I was drawn to.
(Paul Salveson from David Kordansky Gallery)
The Vertigo has always been mysterious to me. And that whole fashion industry is mysterious to me — the kind of shmatta, American Apparel-adjacent, or maybe coming out of the wake of that. These kinds of businesses, or the representations of these businesses, how do they function and how do they flourish? Is it aboveboard? What more perfectly encapsulates that than that building? It’s this weird thing you can’t quite figure out but somehow it has a lot of money and then it’s an event space, supposedly billed as that. Clearly it’s this big ad thing, and I’m very interested in the changing dynamics of capital. The capital of yesteryear, which was based on the brick and mortar, where things are being made in a specific location, maybe on an assembly line or in a specific way, to a kind of capital that is based solely on advertising or on viewership. These beautiful buildings acting as pedestals for some kind of ad space, you know? It becomes an anti-landmark for me. Something where I’m like, “Oh, there’s that thing again.”
JJ: It’s this gorgeous Beaux Arts building …
SG: It’s a Freemason building!
JJ: When I’ve talked to some people about the Vertigo, they’re like, “the Fashion Nova building?”
SG: They always have the woman in the same pose — same pose, different clothes. If you remember before Fashion Nova, they would have these provocative ad campaigns or provocative slogans. “Twerk Miley” was up, remember that? They did a Trump one: “TRUMP NOW.” They did one for Kanye when he ran for president. The 10 and the 110 are literally the crossroads of the city, so it’s really poised to be a special building. It has a special designation because of the location.
JJ: Talk to me about the process of doing this piece. Where did it start and how did it evolve?
SG: I was cruising around that vicinity trying to see if I could get a good vantage point to take photos of Vertigo. And then I stumbled upon this car — the car that’s in the foreground of the painting. Anytime I see an encampment that has kids’ toys, things that reference back to the lives of children, it hits hard. But I like to lay it all out there. I like to make things confrontational. I want it to be difficult. The painting isn’t based on a one-to-one photo [Gomez paints from a composite rendering of images he’s taken around town], but I knew that I wanted to use that car, and I knew I wanted to get the Vertigo building, and so I started just messing around with different iterations. I could never find a good angle to take a good photo of the building, so I just went on Vertigo’s website and I was like, “I’m just using these.” I switched the sky and put a more moody, atmospheric sky in.
JJ: Which I loved, because we know that feeling — you’re merging onto the 110 and you see a beautiful sunset. The euphoria of like, “L.A. is the best city in the world.” But you know what? What I found so interesting about your piece is that it was revealing to me about myself, but also about so many of us that live in L.A. and have lived here for years and have developed a jadedness. When I saw your piece, immediately I was like, “Oh my God, the Vertigo! The Vertigo! The Vertigo!” And then I was like, “OK, wait, hold on, there’s so much more going on here.” But the fact that my eye went to that first instead of the car encampment, the kids’ toys, brought up a lot of questions about my own relationship to the city and the things that we choose to see, the things that maybe we’ve seen so much of that we subconsciously filter it out. Why was it important for you to put these two things up against each other in this way?
SG: Because the Vertigo is something everybody who lives here recognizes as central to a sort of framework of Los Angeles. And I think the encampment has become that as well. It’s connecting these integral components — something that’s more revelatory and more fun with something that’s more grave. That’s what I’m doing in my work at large. I use the sunsets and the beauty to create a dialogue, to entice people to sort of look a little bit at how things are contextualized, how things act, what’s actually happening. I don’t make things in a vacuum. I was working on this show and I was going to really push this agenda of incorporating more of my experience with my kids into the work. That’s also a double-edged sword. I wanted to interject some levity, because the work can get so dark. I wanted to bring in some iconography from their world and things that they get excited about. When you’re juxtaposing that with really stark things, it becomes darker. I want to thicken the stock a little bit. Make things a little more complex.
Phil Pritchard of the Hockey Hall of Fame works the 2019 NHL Awards at the Mandalay Bay Events Center on June 19, 2019 in Las Vegas, Nevada. (Photo by Bruce Bennett/Getty Images)
Bruce Bennett/Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Bruce Bennett/Getty Images
This week’s show was recorded in Chicago with host Peter Sagal, judge and guest scorekeeper Alzo Slade, Not My Job guest Phil Pritchard and panelists Alonzo Bodden, Adam Burke, and Dulcé Sloan. Click the audio link above to hear the whole show.
Who’s Alzo This Time
The Don Vs The Poppa; World’s Worst Doctor; Should We Eat That?
Panel Questions
Big Cheese News!
Bluff The Listener
Our panelists tell three stories about someone missing a huge opportunity in the news, only one of which is true.
Not My Job: Phil Pritchard, the NHL’s Keeper of the Stanley Cup, answers three questions about the other NHL, National Historic Landmarks
Peter talks to Phil Pritchard, the NHL’s Keeper of the Stanley Cup. Phil plays our game called, “Let’s Go Visit The NHL” Three questions about National Historic Landmarks.
Panel Questions
The Trump Dump and Air Traffic Control Becomes Animal Control
Limericks
Alzo Slade reads three news-related limericks: Spice Up Your Spring Cleaning; A Fizzy Meaty Drink; The Right Way to Eat Peeps.
Lightning Fill In The Blank
All the news we couldn’t fit anywhere else
Predictions
Our panelists predict the next big AirBnB story in the news
-
Business8 minutes agoVideo: Why Your Paycheck Feels Smaller
-
Culture32 minutes agoFamous Authors’ Less Famous Books
-
Lifestyle37 minutes agoSunday Puzzle: For Mimi
-
Technology50 minutes agoThe future of local TV news has taken a Trumpian turn
-
World56 minutes agoPope Leo says remarks about world being ‘ravaged by a handful of tyrants’ were not aimed at Trump: report
-
Politics1 hour agoTrump renews bridge, power plant threat against Iran in push for deal, mocks ‘tough guy’ IRGC
-
Health1 hour agoLoneliness may be silently eroding your memory, new research reveals
-
Sports1 hour agoESPN’s Stephen A Smith hears boos from WrestleMania 42 crowd