What Should the 2024 Met Gala Theme Be?
“What if [the theme] was sluts?” — Jenna Maroney (2010)
So… what did we think? My biggest takeaway from the 2023 Met Gala was less the event itself — which was more or less status quo, though more thematically adhered to than recent iterations — and more the cultural appetite for viral moments as opposed to serve sprees. Some of the night's best carpet moments — Teyana! Naomi!! The AMC lady!!! — were simply not the kind of capital "L" lewks that garner attention in the way that stunts like Jared Leto, Lil Nas X and Doja Cat’s were able to. Since there's no longer niche, and everything veers disturbingly into monoculture, the Gala becomes more mythologized than actually observed. “I think, generally, the bigger an event becomes, the less interesting it is,” muses my friend, freelance writer/reporter Max Berlinger. Why is that? I asked him. “Capitalism and ego squashing out creativity and individuality.”
Now, with the 2023 Met Gala comfortably in the rearview, we turn our immediate attention to the next one, as it goes. What do we want from the 2024 Met Gala? Should we do another designer, say a Vivienne Westwood? Or what about a storied figure in the world of fashion, à la André Leon Talley? That might result in the same “so boring” headlines we saw this year, likely the results of the constraints. Or should we turn toward something more interpretive, like “Gothic Horror and Futurism”? But then you run the risk of feeding the “X Celebrities Who Totally Missed/Ignored the Theme” cottage industry. Boring! Do we play to the insular uber-wealthy, for whom the event is intended, or do we feed the leering eyes of the masses, who have turned what was born as a midnight supper for New York society into a circus-like spectacle?
Let’s start with a look back.
There have been 49 Met Galas thus far, beginning with the first one in 1973. The event originated in 1948 outside of the Met setting, designed to raise funds for the Costume Institute and promote the opening of its annual exhibit. From its inception until 1973, the Gala was held in venues like Central Park and the Waldorf Astoria. When legendary former Vogue editor Diana Vreeland became a consultant to the Costume Institute in late 1972, she brought the Gala to the Met and made it a more glamorous, thematic affair, attracting celebrities like Andy Warhol and Cher. This year’s Met Gala would have been the 50th since Vreeland transformed the tradition, had 2020’s not been canceled. Of the 49 soirees since 1973, 14 have been themed around a designer/house or prominent fashion figure, beginning with the Vreeland-era Gala’s “The World of Balenciaga”-themed debut. (Fun fact: Tickets for the Gala’s 1975 outing, “American Women of Style”, were priced at just $125.) Of the rest, the themes were all over the place.
The second-ever Met Gala, “Inventive Clothes: 1909–1939”, was themed around three decades of fashion. Sometimes the themes are broad: 1981’s “The Eighteenth-Century Woman”, for instance, or 1995’s “Haute Couture”. Other times, they are bizarrely specific: 2004’s “Dangerous Liaisons: Fashion and Furniture in the 18th Century”, or, I kid you not, 1984’s “Man and the Horse”. My favorite? 1986’s Gala, where the theme was simply: “Dance”. (By that point, the ticket price had risen to $750 a ticket. These days, tickets, assuming you can get one — and you can’t — are $50K.)
To zero in for a moment on that 1986 Gala, it’s notable that Canadian fashion designer Arnold Scaasi dressed at least 38 of the attendees, including Barbara Walters and Ivana Trump. This to point out the switch-up today where standing out, to many attendees, is the goal — if not the entire point.
The theme creates a framework for celebrities, stylists, designers and brands to work within. This year’s Karl Lagerfeld theme was deceptively specific. It allowed for attendees to wear Chanel, Fendi, Patou or Chloé in addition to his eponymous label and still — assuming it was a Karl designer — be on theme. One could also seek out a designer to create a look inspired by or in tribute to Karl (see: Marc Jacobs or Schiaparelli).
Past themes, like the all over the place 2018 “Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination”, allowed more space for interpretation. This can be exciting, but also can lead one to be more susceptible to the Internet’s ire.
And though some play by the Joy Behar rule of “So what? Who cares?”, the reality is that many do care… a lot, and therefore painstakingly select not only what they wear, but how they will explain its merits.
In examining the last ten Galas, one pattern that has remained is the waffling between hyper-specificity (2014’s Charles James, 2017’s Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons and 2023’s Karl Lagerfeld) and more interpretive (2016’s “Manus x Machina: Fashion in an Age of Technology” and 2019’s “Camp: Notes on Fashion”). So where ought we go next?
Let’s examine the possibilities under both rubrics.
If the theme were a person…
Vivienne Westwood is the most obvious choice (and arguably would have been a better choice than Kaiser Karl this year). That said, 2013’s “PUNK: Chaos to Couture”-themed event was, in many ways, a celebration of an aesthetic largely made popular by Westwood. Of course, who wouldn’t love an André Leon Talley: Capes, Robes and Caftans theme? Besides his significance in the world of fashion, he has strong ties to the Condé Nast brand, as well as a governing sensibility that could lighten the otherwise stuffy affair.
Other potential designers worth themeing are recently departed legends: Azzedine Alaïa, Virgil Abloh, Issey Miyake and Manfred Thierry Mugler. Another offering: Bill Cunningham’s New York.
Or maybe: “Something that highlights the work of Bob Mackie, Tina Knowles, Larry LeGaspi and Zaldy and their influence on fashion,” stylist extraordinaire Ian Bradley suggested to me.
Other ideas that were offered up by my Instagram friends: Barbie, Lisa Frank, Pedro Almodóvar or David Bowie.
Another idea: the circus’s ringleader herself, Dame Anna Wintour. As rumors swirl (and will continue to) about her retirement, many would love to see an exhibition dedicated to Anna Wintour’s Vogue. “She’s a complicated figure, but also one who has remained constant in conveying the idea of American style during the era where designers went from tradespeople to celebrities in and of themselves,” Berlinger explains. “She also saw the industry go from independent workers to conglomerate-owned and from behind-the-scenes to center stage — all things she helped usher along.” The likelihood of this happening seems slim; it would be unlikely that Wintour would sign off on an idea so self-indulgent and self-aggrandizing. Still, it’s impossible to deny how cunty a theme that would be.
But what if the theme were a concept? It’s high time, according to editor and vintage dealer extraordinaire Blythe Marks, that the Costume Institute (and Wintour) take nostalgia seriously with a critical look at Y2K fashions and their sociocultural underpinnings. “I’m from a slice of terminally online Zillennials who grew up at the turn of the 21st century and subsequently lived through the early to mid-2000s McBling aesthetic — often confused by TikTok teens for the Y2K futurism we saw from TLC, Hype Williams, and Disney’s Zenon,” clarifies Marks, noting emphatically that they’re different. That distinction, she emphasizes, merits consideration. “Doja Cat dressed up as an anthropomorphized Millennium Bug blowing vape clouds? MUNA or Haim or Boygenius or FLO in their best custom-designed TLC drag? Yes please. Give the bisexual High Fashion Twitter girlies what they deserve! Gen Z will freak out, millennials will get high off their own supply, the Met will make lots and lots of money. Everyone’s happy. Give the people what they want, Anna.”
You all suggested hundreds of other possible themes when I prompted on IG. Here are my top five from the results: