#Cinderella dress? Tulle skirt. So many layers of tulle. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imnotcameraready · 5 years ago

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chivalry is dead (20)

A/N: BIG YEEHAW HOURS TODAY Y’ALL ITS BALL TIME!!!!!!! AND WE CAN’T HAVE A BALL WITHOUT A PRINCE *stars bawling*

costumes will come in another post bc i. got really excited and then drew them all like, last month (most of them, some were finished last night y e e et)

WARNINGS: remus mention, heist details, wound descriptions, sword mention, scar descriptions, threats of violence, thoughts of dying — alright, im pretty sure that's it, but this chapter has thicc details so if i missed anything pls pls pls lmk

Words: 4550

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing!

enjoy !!! <3 <3 <3 ,3 <3

Deceit really was right, Patton thought while he looked around at the town. His arm was linked around Logan’s as they walked down one of the town’s side streets, from Dr. Picani’s office, and he was taking the time to admire how intricate all of the architecture had gotten. It was intricate and worn and every building seemed unique now, something that he hadn’t realized was missing during their first pass through.

There were arch ways, bridges between doors on the third floors of buildings. There were seemingly hand-woven canvases shielding some of the streets from the sun and, if Patton squinted hard enough, he could see actual detailed stitching and some stains of age. They passed buildings that had scratches and chisel marks, and Patton could clearly see that it was made from stone bricks that had been painted over. Twice, actually. Once with a very old and faded blue, then with a lighter cream that still let the blue show through in spots where the paint was gone.

He wondered a little what had caused those spots. Was it because you weren’t supposed to layer house paint? The spots were different sizes — how many memories were made here?

Patton stumbled, tripping over his thoughts and heels, and leaned more into Logan’s side.

Logan tugged at his arm. “Don’t ponder too hard, Patton,” his voice was soft, hushed to not draw attention.

They��d figured that the best thing to do was to not think about the world around them. Thinking too much about the world and specifically the things that they would affect about it made their focus wander onto fixing those things. Logan would get a headache, Patton would space out, and Deceit would….well, okay, Deceit hadn’t disclosed how and if he’d been affected. But Patton noticed he’d been sweating like a sinner in church, and how his fist would clench every so often, so it was clear that something was happening with Deceit. He didn’t want to force him to talk; honesty wasn’t Deceit’s strong suit.

The four Romans had agreed that that was the smartest decision; none of them nor all of them together were able to limit the Imagination enough. The Playwright had argued that, had Dragon and Damsel known that it was hurting the other Sides, then they would probably all have a unified thought enough to close up the unused worlds. But that would require discussing the entire matter with them, which, as the Thief pointed out, is “pretty fucking useless where they are now.”

So the focus thing was their current strategy. Patton grinned at Logan. “Thanks for the reminder, Octo-cutie-pie,” he smiled wider as Logan blushed.

“I–I’m–Octopi is the plural for octopus and there is only one of me,” Logan bit his lip, then patted Patton’s hand gently, “Thank you.”

Patton giggled, snuggling against Logan’s side briefly as they kept walking. They hadn’t actually talked about the whole love thing, hadn’t really established boundaries, but that seemed like a problem for tomorrow.

Right now, they were all going across town, invitations in hand, to the ball. And, at the very specific right now, Patton was admiring the Playwright and the Artist’s handiwork. They’d worked together to make everyone’s outfits and he’d be a liar if he said they weren’t handsome and beautiful.

Patton himself was themed after a cat — a grey cat, but a cat nonetheless! His dress had a long train for a tail, made of shimmering silver tulle, the same as his poofy sleeves. The skirt went from his waist to the ground, with a built in flair in his corset at the waist. Like, all of it was sparkling, all three tiers of his skirt, which went from grey to black with an inner layer gradient of blue to grey. His favorite part were his gloves, though. Silver for the most part, but with soft circles on his palms and the tips of all his fingers. His own lil’ toe beans!

Logan’s outfit was one of Patton’s favorites. His was themed after an octopus (“Known for their intelligence,” the Playwright had explained, face bright red as he tied Logan’s necktie into an Eldritch knot) with a dark blue blazer and slacks. He wore a vest that shimmered royal blue, with a white button down underneath. There was a piece of coral in his lapel where a flower would usually go, and his coat tails seemed to spiral in shapes that resembled an octopus’ arms. There were even rhinestone bubble decals on his shoulders, or suckers, if you wanted to interpret it that way. The Artist and the Playwright had a small argument about that.

He was dashing, in summation. Patton leaned his head against Logan’s shoulder. “Who knew the town was so big!” he said.

“That’s actually on purpose,” the Playwright said from behind them, “It’s actually not so big as the castle is small, using the same foreshortening techniques used at the Disney theme parks to make Cinderella’s castle, or Sleeping Beauty’s castle depending on which park you’re at—”

“I think he means how far Picani’s office is from the castle, God Mod,” the Thief responded.

The Thief and Deceit were walking in front, swords drawn on the chance that they ran into any guards, and so that the Thief could critique Deceit’s sword fighting skills. Surprisingly, he’d taken to the weapon, something about it being good to have at his disposal while dealing with the Others. The Thief offered to make him one once this escapade was over.

Or maybe it was an excuse for the Thief to keep touching Deceit’s hand. Because that was happening every so often. A lot more often than would be considered normal.

It wasn’t like Deceit was complaining about the touching. It was more the other way around. The yearning for physical contact was frustrating, but neither of them were going to admit that they wanted to hold hands. Even though they’d confessed to at least caring about each other.

“Oh,” the Playwright hummed.

“Cheer up, butter cup, I love hearin’ bout the forced perspective! The Disney parks are so~o~o fun,” the Bard sang out. “When’s the next time we get to go to California? Are we making a trip down to Anaheim? Can we PLEASE take a trip down to Anaheim!”

One of his arms was looped around the Playwright’s, while the other was looped around the Artist’s. They had settled on outfits that complemented each other’s, pulling from the same red and black color palette.

The Artist was the only of the trio in a suit, though his outfit could be considered the loudest. Buttoned down the middle with a high collar, half of his shirt was a solid black, while the other half was a diamond checkered pattern. All of the accents were gold, and his pants were half solid red and half checkered as well. Tonight, the Artist would be a jester.

An improvement on his self-esteem, the Bard had thought. The Artist had said so, too, saying he’d be dressing like a joke. It...was nice to hear.

The Playwright had also gone with a more light-hearted outfit, pun completely intended. He was dressed as the queen of hearts, with an A-line skirt that skimmed the ground and was almost entirely a replica of the skirt worn by the Queen of Hearts in Disney’s Alice in Wonderland animated movie. His corset had a low scoop neckline with a long heart that stretched down from the neckline to the bottom of the waist. His sleeves were poofy, black with red stripes between.

It was a deck of cards theme between the three of them. Honestly, they took a bit of solace in their three Musketeers situation. The Bard was dressed like a harlequin in a ball-dancing dress. His entire dress was checkered, a stiff corset traded for a looser fit bodice that was sinched at the waist by a thick black belt with a heart clip. Bits of tulle were attached to his wrists, ideal for dancing in, which was perfect for the plan. He and the Playwright had matching heart chokers, too.

As he’d said earlier, “We cute.”

Neither the Artist nor the Playwright had argued, and they had yet to pull away from him holding their arms. Maybe they didn’t hate him.

They didn’t! They were moving beyond all that!

Because they had to get the Child back, and Virgil back, and save the Damsel and they had a plan. Actually, they should run through the plan again, because the Bard had already forgotten most of it.

“Thief?” he called ahead.

“Mhm?”

“Can we run through the, uh,” they had a code word for it, shoot, what was it? Oh! Oh, right, “The waltz again?”

“Great Mona Lisa, Bard, how the fuck did you forget how to waltz?” the Artist groaned. “We’re going to a ball.”

“No, no, no, THE waltz,” the Bard nudged the Artist’s side with his elbow.

The Artist shot him a small confused glare, but realization struck his face quick after. “Oh. Oh, that waltz. Yeah, uh,” he turned to the Playwright, who also seemed confused, then to the front again, “Before we get in, we should go over the waltz again.”

The Thief and Deceit both stopped as well, fingers brushing once again. The Bard saw the motion and chuckled to himself. Sweet Chopin, they needed to just hold hands already. He could envision the love birds flying around their heads.

He felt a smidge bad, though. After all, he was the lucky Roman who got to kiss Patton.

Logan and Patton both turned back to them. Patton let go of Logan, then looked around. They weren’t quite at the castle yet; a side alley, wide enough for all of them to stand in and with ample trees, barrels, and an open door beside it would provide good cover.

“Let’s go over there,” Patton grabbed Logan’s arm again and led them all into the alley.

They grouped up into a small but tight circle, the Thief pulling them together. He was in a suit, and an ironic one at that. Originally his costume was intended for Deceit, but he suggested switching them, so that the Dragon would think he were Deceit while being less suspicious. He was themed after a snake, though the theming was less noticeable than the color palette; there were yellow sequins arranged in scale patterns across his black blazer’s forearms, and his vest was black as well, undershirt yellow, and bowtie black. It looked a little like a snazzed-up version of Deceit’s lawyer suit and, though he’d tell no one, the Thief loved the look.

Deceit had said it looked nice on him, too. The bowtie, specifically, but also the entire outfit, and also the Thief simply looked good — yeah, they were both kind of messes. Gone was the ability to seamlessly flirt, apparently.

Still, it was nice to see Deceit in something other than yellow for a change, too. He was dressed as a peacock, with no blazer but a side-cape that shimmered iridescent purple and green. Part of it had blue and green rhinestones inching up the shoulder, and his vest beneath was teal, while his undershirt was mint green. There were bands on his upper arms, keeping his shirt bunched back, that were dark blue. Even his ascot was an iridescent purple and blue.

They leaned against each other in the huddle. Brown eyes trailed all around the group, meeting similar expressions of steely determination.

They could do this.

“Alright,” the Thief started, “For the first hour, we’re gonna scope out the room and surrounding rooms. Meet wherever the snacks are in pairs, alternating pairs, and spread details. Patton and I will go twice.”

“Because you and I are gonna peel off after the first hour to go get Virgil and the Child,” Patton said, meeting the Thief’s eyes.

The Thief nodded. He looked around at everyone — Deceit and the Bard had both been fairly defensive about that choice, but he argued that they needed people who were good at causing distractions on the floor. Patton would be the best at comforting both Virgil and the Child, and the Thief was the only one who had any inkling of what the inside of the castle looked like.

He continued. “Right. We’re gonna try to get out and—”

“Say, what d’ya think that’d make us?” Patton asked, a tiny grin on his face.

“Oh, no,” Logan groaned, “Not—”

“Cat burglars!” Patton exclaimed with a giggle.

The Bard immediately broke out into a fit of giggles, leaning into Deceit a little as he did so. Deceit just rolled his eyes and patted the Bard’s back, letting him cling to his side.

The Artist stifled some chuckles of his own, and the Playwright grinned. Oh. Oh, no, not the idea grin.

“I think Dragon will be hard pressed to find flaws in our purr-fect plan,” he said, eyes shining as Patton laughed as well. “We’re just gonna have to distract him with our adorable kitty-Pat.”

Logan groaned again, in good humor this time. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side, Playwright,” he grumbled.

The Playwright immediately sobered up, mouth pressing into a line. “Ah, Logan, darling, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Hey, but,” the Bard raised a finger at the Playwright, smile wide and mischievous, “If he catches wind of anything, you, Artist, and I can pull a wild card and deck him.”

That got the Artist and Patton to both laugh aloud, and even Logan smiled a tiny bit at the Playwright, if only to reassure him that his frustration was not directed at him.

The Thief seemed actually annoyed, though. He snapped his fingers in the center of the circle. “C’mon, focus here. Patton and I are going to get Virgil and the Child, then we’re going to come back up to the ball room at the second hour. At that point, Deceit—”

“I’ll be dancing with Dragon and, once you’re back, I’ll be distracting him enough for you to get out,” Deceit waved his hand, also slightly exasperated. He wanted Virgil back immediately and, as the time to pull off their hest approached, he grew more nervous.

“Right. Then, Playwright will take you backstage once everyone else has filed out,” the Playwright nodded to the Thief regarding his involvement, and the Thief looked around the group once more, “All of that sound good? Everyone else, be on the look out for Damsel. We don’t know where he’s gonna be. If he’s out on the ball floor, Logan, you—”

“I will approach him and explain that we are here to get him out,” Logan grimaced, “If he is not on the ball floor….”

“Then I’ll be on standby to head into the dungeons,” the Artist said, smile deflated, brow furrowed in thought.

“Good,” the Thief patted his shoulder, gripping reassuringly, “And if Remus is there, then Bard is going into the dungeons with Patton and I’m staying in the ball room to kick his ass.”

“This all sounds like a plan, Thief,” the Bard said, smiling at him, “Logan, thoughts?”

Logan huffed, frowning at the ground. He’d rolled the details over in his mind a few times, so he’d already worked out some of the issues, such as the irrationality of the original plan’s “jump out the dungeon’s windows, really, how large are the windows, and how do we know it’s not underground.” For right now, it seemed as though the plan were efficacious, but they couldn’t be certain until it was enacted.

But at that point, it’d be too late to change the plan to any degree of impeccability. They would have to wing it. And Logan wasn’t a fan of that.

But what choice did they have?

“It is as detailed and as faultless as we can arrange for it to be currently,” he said.

The Thief’s mouth twitched into a slight grimace, but he nodded all the same. That was as optimistic as he would be. “Once this is all over, we meet at the tree as fast as we all can get there,” the Thief said, casting one more look around, “If we pull this off right, no one’ll be leaving alone. If your partner gets injured, you carry them to the tree.”

“I don’t think….” the Artist said, frowning a tiny bit as his voice trailed off.

The possibility of injury was very high, actually. Death for the Romans, at least. And they didn’t know if the Dragon had injured Virgil or the Child. To be honest, they didn’t know if the Child was alive. Oh, goodness, what if Dragon had killed him?

“It’s gonna work,” the Bard said, “It’s gonna.”

He squeezed the Artist’s arm and gave him a nod. It was going to be okay. Roman was optimistic by nature, and the Artist did crave that sort of positivity.

“It must,” Deceit affirmed none too positively.

“It will,” Patton said, smiling at them all again before clapping, “And break!”

Everyone stood up on instinct. Then, they all shared slight laughs, small smiles.

The Bard leaned over and hugged Deceit with an arm, reciprocated a little. Patton leaned against the Artist, who didn’t hug back, but also didn’t flinch finally.

They were getting somewhere. It was going to be okay.

It was going to be okay.

….Without Virgil, they all felt as though their optimism was naively placed. But that was why they were going to get him back!

Once he was back, Deceit thought, he was never letting go again. If he was back. No, no, once he was back. He was coming back soon.

“Let’s go,” the Thief pulled his mask out from his coat, a black half-face mask covered in yellow sequins arranged like scales.

Everyone shared looks, nodding to each other as they slid on their own masks. Logan, Patton, the Artist, and the Playwright all had special masks that mimicked their glasses prescriptions so they wouldn’t need contacts, too. With faces obscured, they nodded once more, squeezing arms in reassurance and patting backs and giving smiles, and hurried out of the alley.

The Playwright walked at the front of the group, the only one not paired to any Side. He looked up at the sky. A storm had grown, clouds angry and grey above the castle, which was only a few blocks away now. Perhaps it would thunder during the ball.

He wondered vaguely what had caused the sudden shift in weather. During their week alone, it was all sunny skies.

Was it….

No. No, no part of Roman was that desperate, to have gone to Remus. Right? He’d been telling himself that ever since they’d begun this game, but the darker their future seemed, the more he worried about the Duke’s involvement.

The Thief seemed to think it was very real, enough to have a back-up written into the plan. C’est la vie. Such was life, he thought, the show must go on.

They walked quietly for only a few minutes. The closer they got to the castle, the more Imagination inhabitants they saw walking around them, some in pairs, some in groups, some alone. Everyone was in costume, most intricate. Good. This would be good, for coverage. The Thief had been a little worried that the ball would be sparsely attended, but this was good.

It was going to be okay.

They approached the drawbridge. Patton leaned against the Artist, gripping his arm tighter as the wind picked up. The Thief and Deceit were stoic behind them, and Logan and the Bard were simply quiet, though their hands were interlaced tight. It was going to be okay.

A line had formed on the bridge, in front of one man in a suit, perhaps the medieval equivalent of a bouncer. The group shuffled into the line, looking around at the castle, at the moat (“I think it’s filled with alligators,” the Bard murmured to Logan, who shook his head and was about to respond that that didn’t make sense, until an alligator’s maw jumped up and snatched a low-flying bird) and at the sky.

Angry, angry clouds.

It took an excruciatingly long eleven minutes for the Playwright to finally reach the front of the line, but when he did, he immediately grinned. He had to hand it to the Dragon.

“May I see your invitation?” Zac Efron asked, dressed in a black butler’s outfit.

Bless the Imagination’s castings. The Playwright handed over his invitation, and Zac looked over a list in his other hand before handing back the invitation and checking off a name. “You may enter to the ball room,” he motioned to the door.

The Playwright curtsied and hurried in. Behind him was the Artist and Patton, both of whom gasped a little, becau se holy shit, it’s Zac Efron.

The Dragon was really out here casting Thomas’ celebrity crushes as butlers. It was the first thing that the Artist had wholly agreed with the Dragon on, actually. Once they were Roman, they were going to have to look into that as a possibility.

One by one, each entered, walking down a grand hall with a ceiling so high and so vaulted that there seemed to be a sky inside. But, then again, there probably was. This was the Imagination. It looked somewhat like the Great Hall from the Harry Potter movies, this time shining with stars and constellations.

Logan could identify Aries and Pieces. That was actually accurate for the season and hour, so he gave a mental kudos to Roman for his design, then considered if it were his knowledge that had been used to perfect the stars. Well. That was inconsequential, I guess?

The hall was also lined with suits of armor, and bannisters adorned with Roman’s full crest. Though, Deceit noticed while he walked through, the entire crest was outlined in gold and the castle in the center was colored with grey and brown and black. He thought the Dragon was only supposed to be the outer tower and walls. If the Dragon called all of the shots around here, then why was the center tower also colored?

The walk was long, heels clacking against the stone. They turned with the carpet to the left and entered through a pair of double doors that had to be at least two floors high.

Inside was life. The room was massive, stretching almost the size of a football field. There was a stage near the entrance door where there were musicians (with undetailed faces, Deceit noticed) were playing loud enough to echo across the room. The dance floor seemed to take up about half the room.

Farther away from the entrance were some circle tables, arranged around with some citizens already sitting down. Further back were some long tables, food stacked atop them, and even further….

The throne was elevated so the Dragon could see across the hall to the dance floor. The Thief’s fists clenched immediately upon seeing him wearing the Prince’s attire, white uniform a stark contrast to the black he was typically adorned with. It was a jarring difference.

He was taunting them. By Doc Holliday’s pistol, they were gonna take him down.

Beside his throne was a large Ottoman seat, where there was another figure. The Damsel, most likely, though his face was obscured by a sheer red veil and distance. He was wearing a large dress, which had a triple-tiered skirt that seemed to flare out orange, then red, then black. His corset was decorated with red and orange and yellow rhinestones, and raised behind his head. It almost looked like flames.

Burned. The Damsel’s scars were also entirely visible, scabs on his arms angry and red, clearly not fully healed. They weren’t openly bleeding, but the Playwright could tell that they would start bleeding at some point in the night.

His nose scrunched as he examined the pair. They didn’t seem to notice him, the Damsel leaning against the throne’s side and not moving, the Dragon stroking his chin and looking across the hall absently. He had a sword sheathed beside the throne, too, with its handle sticking up in an easily accessible manner.

He was waiting for them, he realized. Of course he was, this was a trap, you fool. You knew this. You’d planned. It was going to be okay.

The Playwright turned back to the group just as the last pair, Logan and the Bard, entered.

“Okay. I am going to move toward the snack table,” he nodded toward the thrones, “Octopus, would you like to join me?”

Logan let go of the Bard, who curtsied and stepped back, and then offered a hand to the Playwright. “It would be my pleasure,” he said, “How about we acquire a table, Hearts?”

The Playwright nodded, then shot the Thief a look. “Snake,” he said, a promise, a warning, “Let’s waltz.”

“Let’s,” the Thief responded, squeezing Deceit’s arm.

The Bard and Patton had already taken each other onto the dance floor, hoping to not be conspicuously waiting in a group by the door way, and the Artist was meandering around — nope, no, he just asked an Imagination citizen to dance. Blending in well.

Operation save Virgil and the Child was a go.

Virgil could hear the faint music from above. He squinted up, then closed his eyes and exhaled. What’d that matter?

His side was throbbing. It seemed that just wrapping a bandage around a wound did fuck all to stop it from hurting, or bleeding, especially if it was just wrapped once and around the front. Virgil would have to remember that for the next time he got stabbed by an evil Dragon, he thought snidely.

He and the Child had relocated themselves to the bed. Pretending to not be panicking was tiring, but luckily for him, the Child had fallen asleep.

He sniffed quietly, rubbing his eye with the butt of his palm. For the past half an hour, ever sine the Child fell asleep, Virgil had been silently crying. And there was no Damsel to conjure him a glass of water or tell him it’d be okay. Because he knew it wasn’t going to be okay.

Even if he didn’t die in the Imagination, he’d be exiting it alone. And that was fine!

The Child snuggled closer to his chest, tiny arms wrapped around him. Virgil sniffed again and hugged him tight.

If he did nothing else, he’d at least protect this Roman.

He wished he’d at least told Roman how he felt.

Maybe he’d never get the chance.

Gosh, this was really fatalistic, even for him. It wasn’t like he was gonna die in the Imagination.

Virgil shielded his eyes with an arm and, as illogical as it was, wished that he could use that one arm motion to block out the sounds of the ball going on above. Shit, he was gonna die in the Imagination.

….Usually that’d freak him out a bit more. Maybe he’d bled out to the point where he was too tired to be worried. And, maybe it was childish, but he really did want to dance with Roman.

taglists!

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda @askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil @theobsessor1 @ninja-wizard101 @fandomsofrandom

general taglist: @jemthebookworm @okay-finne

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fitnesshealthyoga-blog · 6 years ago

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Best All-Time Celebrity Met Gala Fashion Outfits

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For serious fans of fashion, there’s no bigger red-carpet affair than the annual Costume Institute Benefit—a.k.a. the Metropolitan Museum of Art Gala, or Met Gala for short—where celebrities and high fashion collide in a bonanza of couture gowns that more than rivals the Oscars in unabashed glamour. Part of the evening’s fun—even for us spectators—is seeing what attendees choose to wear on the red carpet at the Gala, which will be held Monday night. Considering attendees’ high-design attire is typically loosely inspired by the exhibition’s theme, we have a feeling this particular red carpet will be one for the record books, and we’ll see some of the best Met Gala dresses yet.

However, before we can look ahead to this year’s extravaganza, we decided to look back at some past memorable Met Gala gowns that we’re still talking about.

From supermodels (Karolina Kurkova in a head-to-toe custom Rachel Zoe creation that resembled liquid gold, Gisele Bündchen’s red-hot Valentino, Anja Rubik’s skin-baring Anthony Vaccarello) and starlets (Beyoncé in showstopping Givenchy, Diane Kruger in Jason Wu) to the fash pack (Alexa Chung in Marc Jacobs, Ashley Olsen in vintage Dior, Zoe Kravitz in Alexander Wang), there’s no denying that everyone who shows up to the year’s most major red carpet does so with a serious fashion moment in mind.

Neilson Barnard/Getty Images.

Rihanna, Met Gala 2017

As an annual Met Gala favorite, Rihanna didn’t disappoint when she wore a Comme des Garçons structured flower-like dress by Rei Kawakubo, a Japanese designer who was honored with that year’s theme. The look, which was straight from Comme des Garçons’s Fall 2016 runway, used floral fabrics, which were layered and pulled apart to look like petals.

Jackson Lee/FilmMagic.

Zendaya, Met Gala 2017

Though Zendaya strayed from 2017’s avant-garde theme, she still shut down the red carpet when she showed up in a colorful Dolce & Gabbana Alta Moda ball gown decorated with vibrant orange and blue parrots. Z complemented her look, which boasted a floor-length train, with a voluminous Afro.

Andrew H Walker/REX/Shutterstock.

Cardi B, Met Gala 2018

Cardi B’s 2018 MOSCHINO Met Gala look (with the theme Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination) was beyond iconic.

Larry Busacca/Getty Images.

Taylor Swift, Met Gala 2016

As 2016’s Met Gala chair, Taylor Swift created chatter on the internet for the metallic minidress she wore in honor of that year’s theme, Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology. The look consisted of a robot-like Louis Vuitton dress with cutouts and a ruffled skirt with knee-high lace-up heels and black lipstick complementing Swift’s electric-blonde hair.

Mike Coppola/Getty Images for People.com.

Solange, Met Gala 2016

Solange didn’t exactly fit 2016’s technology-inspired theme, but many fans considered her lemonade-yellow David Laport dress, which featured accordion-like pleats, to be a nod to her sister Beyoncé’s album Lemonade, which came out a month earlier. Solange completed her look with matching latex leg warmers and clear sandals.

Charles Sykes/Invision/AP/REX/Shutterstock.

Lena Waithe, Met Gala 2018

When Master of None’s Lena Waithe showed up to the 2018 Met Gala in a literal rainbow cape, we knew it was going to be a good night.

Karwai Tang/WireImage.

Lupita Nyong’o, Met Gala 2016

Lupita Nyong’o stunned on the Met Gala red carpet in 2016 when she wore a jade sequined Calvin Klein shift dress with a near-translucent train. But it was her hair that caught the attention of the internet. Shortly after Nyong’o walked the red carpet, Vogue published an article comparing her sky-high bun to Audrey Hepburn’s in a 1963 Vogue photo shoot. The actress later called out the magazine on Instagram, explaining that her hair wasn’t inspired by Hepburn, but by traditional African hairstyles and Nina Simone.

J. Kempin/Getty Images.

Kendall Jenner, Met Gala 2017

Kendall Jenner definitely turned heads in 2017 when she showed up at the Met Gala in a near-naked La Perla dress. The sheer look, which featured a large diagonal cutout on Jenner’s torso, was flecked with glitter and featured a low-scooped open back, revealing Jenner’s derriere.

J. Kempin/Getty Images.

Katy Perry, Met Gala 2017

As one of 2017’s Met Gala chairs, Katy Perry raised the bar when she wore an avant-garde red-tulle dress by John Galliano. The look, which featured a floor-length veil and sleeves embellished with large jewels, also included a crown-like headpiece with the word “Witness,” which would later become the title of Perry’s 2017 album.

Jamie McCarthy/FilmMagic.

Claire Danes, Met Gala 2016

From a first look, Claire Danes’s 2016 sky-blue Cinderella-like Zac Posen ball gown looked like another pretty dress and far from that year’s technology-inspired theme. But in the dark, fans learned that the one-of-a-kind dress was sewn with dozens of fiber optics, allowing it to twinkle with lights when it was pitch-black. Posen revealed the high-tech effect on his Instagram.

Neilson Barnard/Getty Images.

Cara Delevingne, Met Gala 2017

Cara Delevingne took advantage of her freshly shaven head at the 2017 Met Gala by glazing it with slick silver paint. She paired her metallic buzzcut with a sci-fi-inspired pantsuit by Chanel with bold shoulders and a futuristic, star-like pattern.

David Fisher/REX/Shutterstock.

Rihanna, Met Gala 2018

Rihanna really stuck to the 2018 “Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination” Met Gala theme when she game dressed as the literal Pope. We’re still screaming about it.

Kevin Mazur/WireImage.

Madonna, Met Gala 2016

Madonna earned mixed reviews when she wore a sheer and skin-baring Givenchy dress to the 2016 Met Gala. The look, which exposed Madonna’s butt and breasts, was criticized by some for being too revealing. Of course, Madonna had the last word. After the controversy, the singer took to her Instagram to explain that her dress was a “political statement” against “an ageist and sexist society.”

Andres Otero/WENN.com.

Kim Kardashian, Met Gala 2013

A pregnant Kim Kardashian didn’t exactly stick to the PUNK: Chaos to Couture theme of 2013’s gala, but her Givenchy dress spawned 10,000 memes—and was of particular significance, given it was the first time Anna Wintour allowed her to attend.

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Diana Ross, Met Gala 1981

Diana Ross’s 1981 Met Gala gown would look right at home on the 2018 red carpet, given fashion’s recent obsession with ruffles and off-the-shoulder cuts.

WENN.com.

Solange, Met Gala 2015

When every other star was tripping over themselves to prove their dresses were the most naked, Solange rolled up to the 2015 Met Gala in this round Giles dress—and killed it.

Mari Sarai/Wireimage.

Amber Valletta, Met Gala 1999

Amber Valletta looked every inch the supermodel in shiny gold at 1999’s “Rock Style” gala.

Andres Otero/WENN.com.

Sarah Jessica Parker, Met Gala 2013

Sarah Jessica Parker, patron saint of the Met Gala, can always be counted on to show up in something fabulously OTT, like this Giles Deacon gown and Philip Treacy Mohawk headpiece in 2013, proving that she truly gets the spirit of the event every year.

Tom Gates/Getty Images.

Diana Vreeland, Met Gala 1981

Legendary fashion editor Diana Vreeland and Bill Blass at the 1981 gala, whose theme was “‘Eighteenth Century Woman.”

Flashpoint / WENN.

Lauren Santo Domingo, Met Gala 2008

In 2008, socialite and fashion It-girl Lauren Santo Domingo wore a silver glittering Nina Ricci gown—created by then-designer Olivier Theyskens—end of story. But it wasn’t, because the dress caused a bit of a scandal when the house dressed SJP in the same exact dress months later for the premiere of the “Sex and the City” movie. The brand responded to the controversy by saying LSD isn’t technically a celebrity, so they didn’t recycle.

Andres Otero/WENN.com.

Lupito Nyong’o, Met Gala 2014

Fresh off her fame-making red-caped-dress moment, Lupita Nyong’o made a dramatic grand entrance at the 2014 gala in flapper-inspired Prada.

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Zoë Kravitz and MIA, Met Gala 2010

The cool crowd—also known as MIA and Zoë Kravitz—arrived on the arm of Alexander Wang at 2010’s “American Women”-themed gala.

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Florence Welch, Met Gala 2012

Florence Welch brought it to the 2012 gala honoring Miuccia Prada and Elsa Schiaparelli, although she opted to wear a stunning multitiered McQueen dress. She showed up on several “worst-dressed” lists, proving again that the masses just don’t get it.

Toby/WENN.com.

Anja Rubik, Met Gala 2013

Supermodel Anja Rubik rolled up to the 2013 punk-themed gala in a mini red leather Anthony Vaccarello number—and it promptly went down in the annals as one of the coolest, most memorable looks ever.

WENN.com.

Karen Elson, Met Gala 2015

In 2015, supermodel-turned-rocker Karen Elson debuted a jaw-dropping Dolce & Gabbana look on the red carpet. Whether it played into the night’s theme—”China: Through the Looking Glass”—is debatable, but the glamour is not.

Andres Otero/WENN.com.

Anne Hathaway, Met Gala 2013

Anne Hathaway shed her goody-goody image at the 2013 punk-themed gala, replacing her long brown hair with a cropped platinum cut and debuting an on-theme Valentino gown.

Lia Toby/WENN.com.

Miley Cyrus, Met Gala 2013

A logical step in Miley Cyrus’s 2013 emancipation from Hannah Montana? Attending the punk-themed Met Gala on Marc Jacobs’s arm in a totally sheer dress and with blonde spiky hair.

Evan Agostini/Getty Images.

Diane Kruger, Met Gala 2004

A lot of the looks at 2004’s “Dangerous Liaisons: Fashion and Furniture in the 18th Century” gala look wildly outdated now, but Diane Kruger—in Nicolas Ghesquiere—still looks chic and sexy.

Lia Toby/WENN.com.

Nicole Richie, Met Gala 2013

Nicole Richie stunned due to the simple fact that she made both a Topshop gown and silver hair look ridiculously chic in 2013.

WENN.com.

Kim Kardashian, Met Gala 2015

In 2015, Kim Kardashian caught major flak for wearing a dress nearly identical to the one Beyoncé wore in 2012. Granted, they’re by different designers and were different colors—Beyoncé’s black and purple gown was Givenchy, while Kim’s white dress was part of Peter Dundas’s first collection since returning to Roberto Cavalli, but the similarities were shocking, down to the sheer nakedness, the curve-hugging fit, and—of course—the feathered train that Bey worked like a pro on the Met’s red stairs when she made her dramatic entrance three years ago.

(And let it be known, Kim—who was on the event’s host committee that year—also showed up toward the end of the carpet, just like Ms. Knowles did.)

WENN.com.

Rihanna, Met Gala 2015

Perhaps the most memorable gala gown—and the most memorable example of a star sticking to the theme—was at 2015’s “China: Through the Looking Glass”: Rihanna showed up in an imperial-yellow fur-trimmed caped number with a multifoot-long train created by Chinese couturier Guo Pei. “I was researching Chinese couture on the Internet, and I found it,” she told Vanity Fair.

Getty Images.

Ashley Olsen, Met Gala 2011

Ashley Olsen didn’t wear McQueen to the 2011 gala, whose theme was in his honor, but looked absolutely perfect in a vintage Dior with puffy sleeves.

WENN.com.

Beyoncé, Met Gala 2015

Beyoncé turned heads in revealing Givenchy Couture at 2015’s gala, though some critics slammed the look for being too shameless in its approach to grab headlines. In the year of the “naked dress” on the gala’s carpet—J.Lo and—predictably—Kim K. also showed up in similar styles—we kind of hoped Beyoncé would have risen above the fray and had fun with her look, much like Rihanna did that year.

WENN.

Gisele Bündchen, Met Gala 2011

Part of one of the best-dressed couples of all time, supermodel Gisele Bündchen made jaws drop in 2011 with her dramatic red Alexander McQueen.

Getty Images.

Bianca Brandolini D’Adda, Met Gala 2012

Italian It-girl Bianca Brandolini D’Adda stunned in a serious gold Dolce & Gabbana ensemble in 2012.

Rose Hartman/Archive Photos/Getty Images.

Elizabeth Hurley, Met Gala 1995

Quintessential ’90s couple Elizabeth Hurley—in her signature curve-hugging gown style—and Hugh Grant at 1995’s gala.

Evan Agostini/Getty Images.

Amber Valletta, Met Gala 2004

It’s hard not to applaud Amber Valletta for fully embracing the 2004 “Dangerous Liaisons: Fashion and Furniture in the 18th Century” gala theme.

WENN.

Diane Kruger, Met Gala 2011

In 2011, Diane Kruger was the picture of modernity—instead of an OTT gown, she opted for a sleek black slit-skirt and embellished top by Jason Wu.

Billy Farrell/BFAnyc/Sipa Press.

Rihanna, Met Gala 2011

Been there, done that: Rihanna was doing the naked-dress thing long before Kim, Bey, and J.Lo. Here she is in Stella McCartney in 2011.

Getty Images.

Karolina Kurkova, Met Gala 2012

Karolina Kurkova brought some serious Studio 54 vibes in 2012 with her gold beaded Rachel Zoe number.

Getty Images.

Kirsten Dunst, Met Gala 2012

Kirsten Dunst might have worn prim Rodarte to 2012’s gala, but the look did its part to play into the Prada and Schiappareli theme.

Getty Images.

Alexa Chung, Met Gala 2013

It-girl and style-setter Alexa Chung took the “real fashion” route in a buttoned-up Marc Jacobs look in 2013.

Getty Images.

Nina Dobrev, Met Gala 2012

Actress Nina Dobrev looked glamorous in a serious Donna Karan Atelier gown in 2012.

A version of this story originally appeared in May 2016.

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laceweddingdress89 · 4 years ago

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mtwy · 7 years ago

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People Magazine

USA September 2nd 1985

Welcome to the remaking of Apocalypse Now. —Sean Penn, addressing his wedding guests

From above the bluffs of Point Dume, Malibu, a half-dozen choppers filled with photographers sent down a windy backwash and a constant din. Below, at the huge wooden gates fronting real-estate developer Dan Unger’s $6.5 million home, blue-blazered guards oversaw an I.D. check of all who entered, while inside others prepared for the evening ahead by arming themselves with infrared binoculars to scan the perimeter for intruders. One interloper—an Italian photographer in camouflage gear and blackened face who had been hiding in the shrubbery since 1:30 in the morning—was ejected and his pictures of the blessed event were destroyed.

That event was the marriage of Madonna Louise Ciccone and Sean Penn, perhaps the oddest couple since Marilyn Monroe was blown away by Arthur Miller’s cerebellum. What did they see in each other, this gifted but reclusive film star who shuns publicity the way bats shun sunlight, and this sexy rocker who crafted her dare-to-tease image in the photographers’ flash? But here was the former at the media event of the summer and the latter dressed in antique tulle and bustle like any other blushing bride.

Except for the airborne intruders, this wedding would be done in private before about 220 friends, family and professional associates. Among the guests were the bride’s seven brothers and sisters, her 73-year-old grandmother, the groom’s family and a coterie of chums, including Rosanna Arquette (Madonna‘s Desperately Seeking Susan co-star), Christopher Walken, Carrie Fisher, Andy Warhol, Diane Keaton and Tom Cruise.

They had been arriving for more than an hour, filing past a legion of reporters at the gates, past the elaborate security checkpoint, and moving out to the poolside setting overlooking the Pacific. Finally, shortly before 6:30 p.m. the principals themselves appeared, Sean in a double-breasted $695 Gianni Versace suit he had bought off the rack one week earlier on Rodeo Drive, Madonna in a strapless Cinderella gown created by her Like a Virgin tour designer and video image-maker, Marlene Stewart. Madonna‘s French-twist hairdo was covered with a black bowler draped in cream-colored tulle, her trademark crucifixes discreetly discarded for a single long earring and an antique pearl bracelet. Draped across her dress like a beauty contestant’s sash was a silver-and-pink silk metallic net, dripping with encrusted jewels, pearls and dried roses. “We wanted a ’50s feeling,” designer Stewart would say later, “something Grace Kelly might have worn.”

With strains of Moments of Love drowned out by the choppers above, the bride walked down the grassy aisle on the arm of her father, then let go of his elbow and cheerily spoke her final words as a single woman: “Bye, Dad.” Flanked only by the best man, director James (At Close Range) Foley, who sported two weeks of whiskers and a dark-green linen suit, and the maid of honor, Madonna‘s sister Paula, the couple exchanged vows in a five-minute ceremony conducted by Judge John Merrick. Penn then lifted his wife’s veil and, to the accompaniment of the theme from Chariots of Fire, planted a kiss on her upturned lips, sparking a standing ovation.

Hey, you’ve done this before. Do you just cut one piece or do you have to slice up the whole thing? —Madonna asking Cher’s advice while cutting the cake

After the vows, waiters rushed out with trays of Cristal champagne and sushi, as Malcolm McLaren’s Madame Butterfly blared from loudspeakers. Moments later the newlyweds appeared on a balcony, just like Romeo and Juliet. Penn toasted “the most beautiful woman in the world,” and struggled playfully to remove her garter for the obligatory toss. The partygoers then adjourned to a white open-air tent and a feast prepared by Spago restaurant: a five-tier hazelnut wedding cake with sugar flowers, lobster ravioli, rack of lamb, swordfish and baked potatoes stuffed with sour cream and caviar. Table wines included an Acacia Pinot Noir from California’s Madonna Vineyard.

In the house an entire room had been set aside for wedding gifts. There was a 1912 antique silver tea service from John Daly, producer of Penn’s last film, The Falcon and the Snowman, and an antique jukebox with 24 of Madonna‘s favorite oldies from Mo Os-tin, chairman of Warner Bros. Records. A 12-place china setting in Madonna‘s registered Tiffany pattern courtesy of Playboy never materialized, despite rumors to the contrary. Just as well. Still peeved over the six-year-old nude pictures of her used by Playboy and Penthouse just last month, she had threatened to return any such peace offering (retail cost: $12,000) in shards.

Mad dog to mad dog one…do you copy? —Ground-to-air walkie-talkie transmission to a helicopter

Many of the guests had carried their presents with them, because the security-conscious invitations hadn’t provided an address. Instead, friends were summoned to a joint birthday party (her 27th, his 25th) and told to leave a number where they could be reached with directions.

As evening fell, guests moved to a parquet dance floor set up over the tennis courts and lit with pink floodlights. Disc jockey Terence Toy opened with a Swing-era tape, then switched to livelier fare—Motown’s greatest dance tunes and Madonna‘s own Into the Groove. The bride boogied with her usual enthusiasm, even lifting her layered skirt during one fast-moving number to reveal a flowered-brocade slip underneath. At about 10 o’clock, the get-together began its slow dissolve. “It was all very intimate, except for those obnoxious helicopters,” proclaimed departing Susan Seidelman, director of Desperately Seeking Susan. “A very classy affair,” said another guest. “Like Tiffany’s with just a dash of flash.”

That probably surprised some observers, especially those more familiar with the groom’s public truculence than his private charms. While establishing himself as one of Hollywood’s rising stars in films like Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Bad Boys and The Falcon and the Snowman, Penn has earned far fewer kudos for his antics offscreen. Notoriously camera-wary (with all but movie cameras), he has menaced most approaching photographers, refused interviews even to promote his films and last year irked Falcon studio execs by spending most of the movie’s premiere party behind a potted palm. Back home he tools about Hollywood with the Brat Pack, the stick-to-themselves—and equally publicity shy—group of actors that includes best-pal Timothy Hutton, Emilio Estevez and Cruise.

When Penn introduced himself to Madonna during the taping of her Material Girl video this year, it might have seemed to some like a meeting of the beauteous and the beastly. “I just remember her saying, ‘Get out! Get out! Get out!’ ” Penn told his wedding guests. He was smitten all the same. “Afterward I was over at a friend’s house, and he had a book of quotations. He picked it up and turned to a random page and read the following: ‘She had the innocence of a child and the wit of a man.’ I looked at my friend, and he just said, ‘Go get her.’ ”

The other relationships weren’t right because they weren’t fifty-fifty. This one is. Neither one of them is in control; she can learn from him, and he can learn from her. —Longtime Madonna friend Martin Burgoyne

The courtship had its rocky moments. She spent much of the time on tour pumping sales of her Like a Virgin LP (8.5 million so far). He was in Tennessee making At Close Range with brother Chris and Christopher Walken. On one of her visits there, the couple was approached by two British photographers and Penn reacted with typical fury, allegedly beating off his pursuers with a rock. He was arrested and faces assault charges in October as well as a $1 million civil suit from the Fleet Street journalists.

Luckily, Southern California seemed to have a soothing effect. Just before the wedding, the young lovers spent a lot of time together in Madonna‘s $1,350-a-month, two-bedroom apartment in the shadow of the famed Hollywood hillside sign. Close friends and those who have seen the couple together scoff at the suggestion that the pairing may be a publicity ploy. For one thing, Penn clearly wants no such attention. And, says a friend of the bride, “I’ve never seen two more passionate people. Forget about the superstar stuff; Madonna is a girl wildly in love.”

As their nuptials approached, the couple prepared like many lovers headed to the altar. In July Madonna attended a wedding shower held in the Upper East Side Manhattan apartment of Nancy Huang, girlfriend of Madonna‘s record producer, Nile Rodgers. On hand were a dozen pals, including singer Alannah Currie of the Thompson Twins and actress Mariel Hemingway, plus a half-dozen menfriends dressed in drag for the occasion. That was the only offbeat touch: The gift boxes contained lingerie, a quilt, a push-button phone (sequined), jewelry and other predictables.

Two days before her wedding the bride-to-be and about 10 pals held an old-fashioned bachelorette party at the Tropicana, a sleazy mudwrestling club in the sleaziest area of Hollywood. Wearing dark glasses, no makeup and her hair in a bun, the star who made her name in music sat and cheered two others who were making their mark in mud.

He’s a very nice guy. He reminds me of a little boy, like he’s 8 years old and he’s got so many cookies he doesn’t know what to do with them. —Stripper Kitten Natividad, describing Sean Penn

The groom, meanwhile, had other, though not entirely dissimilar, plans: an old-fashioned stag party, with entertainment by Kitten (42-24-36). Held in a private room above Hollywood’s Roxy nightclub, the boys’ night out attracted Chris Penn, actors Harry Dean Stanton, David Keith, Cruise and Robert Duvall, and Cameron Crowe, screenwriter of Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Thanks to an open bar, “they were all pretty buzzed,” Kitten says of her audience. Sean “was feeling no pain. But he didn’t fall on his face or anything. When he talked, he made sense.”

Though Sean was slapping his thighs in glee when Kitten peeled all to the soon-to-be Mrs. Penn’s Material Girl, the evening produced few ungentle-manly moments. Harry Dean Stanton did arrive late, and when he entered, recalls Kitten, “Sean picked up my blouse and said, ‘See what you missed?’ ” Then he shoved Stanton’s face straight into Ms. Natividad’s ta-tas. She didn’t mind a bit. “Sometimes I do, but it was Sean’s night, and he could have done whatever he wanted to. That was about as wild as he got.”

Whether the months and years ahead with his hyper-visible mate will be any wilder—whether there will even be months, let alone years—only time will tell. In the afterglow their goal is a picture of togetherness. Madonna, ready to sign a Disney Pictures contract for a kidnap film, has been shopping for a joint movie project with her new husband. In the meantime there is a new midnight-blue $44,000 Mercedes to drive (a gift to herself), a new line of Madonna-wear due this fall and plans for a spacious estate on a secluded spot in Malibu. But visitors had best beware. When asked whether he was going to put up a fence for security, Penn replied: “A fence, nothing. We’re going to have gun towers.”

#1985 #peoplemagazine #wedding

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