Among the many pop culturally-attuned industries that have been oh so careful to shore up their displays of wokeness post-#MeToo is the fashion biz. Some would call the Met Gala the true Oscars of that particular business, despite no awards actually being given out. Nonetheless, it’s a time for A-listers in fashion, film, music and “influencing” to gather in their best, most over-the-top homage to whatever the theme might be. This year, it was, oddly enough: Karl Lagerfeld. Anna Wintour, who has co-chaired and organized the event for almost three decades, was obviously a friend of the man best known for resuscitating Chanel’s cachet during his long reign as creative director…that is, when he wasn’t best known for doling out some major verbal lashings. And, being that there’s a book and movie based on working for Wintour called The Devil Wears Prada, the editor-in-chief of Vogue is no stranger to being deemed polarizing and controversial herself. Though not nearly to the extent that Lagerfeld was…and is.
Evidently, however, some of his more problematic views and comments weren’t enough to get him onto the “cancellation” list in this climate. Which perhaps only goes to show that, in death, everything is forgiven (just look at Michael Jackson, whose music is still played freely as though he didn’t have any pedophilic proclivities whatsoever). At the same time, not everyone has embraced this year’s theme—specifically named Karl Lagerfeld: A Line of Beauty (not to be confused with the 2011 theme: Alexander McQueen: Savage Beauty). This includes the High Fashion Met Gala Twitter account. Although not associated with the Met Costume Institute or the Met Gala, their commentary on the event over the years has garnered forty thousand followers. Followers they were sure to declare their views about the theme to: “…we will not be celebrating this year’s Met Gala as our values don’t align with the selection of Karl Lagerfeld as the theme. We hope to celebrate with our community again soon.”
In the meantime, they, like many others, will simply have to “deal with it”—as most orbiting the fashion industry had to whenever Lagerfeld engaged in one of his notorious outbursts. Usually aimed at critiquing body types that didn’t “fit the mold” (literally). To those who would complain about not seeing more inclusivity in the industry, Karl would provide such ripostes as, “You’ve got fat mothers with their bags of chips sitting in front of the television and saying that thin models are ugly. The world of beautiful clothing is about ‘dreams and illusions.’” Having also declared fashion as “the healthiest motivation for losing weight,” Lagerfeld himself dropped ninety-two pounds in the early 00s and released a cunty diet book inspired by that rapid physical transformation. This, too, seemed to give him further license to make generally unchecked comments about women’s bodies before a gag order had been placed on such forms of free speech. And some, of course, still secretly couldn’t agree more with Lagerfeld’s takes on the grotesquerie of being fat, and how it has no place in the world of high fashion.
Embodying blatant tropes of gay male misogyny, Lagerfeld lived long enough to be able to add to his problematic list of female-aimed comments when asked what his thoughts were on making amendments to previously accepted comportment as a result #MeToo. To which he replied, “If you don’t want to have your pants pulled about, don’t become a model! Join a nunnery, there’ll always be a place for you in the convent. They’re recruiting even!” Lagerfeld’s sanctioning of sexually predatory behavior as par for the course to those who want to “succeed” is exactly the kind of thinking that has allowed it to flourish for so long without consequence.
Naturally, Karl provides plenty of Psych 101 analysis in terms of being hateful toward others because he likely hated those qualities in himself (see also: Death Becomes Her and Beef). His continued assertions of being “working-class” as he rose through the ranks of high fashion, therefore the ranks of class, also likely stemmed from simultaneously loving and hating the vapidity of such an alternate realm. Wanting to cling to some semblance of “reality.” And yet, as his staunch views became increasingly antiquated in a world where Kim Kardashian’s curves were embraced and emulated (though Karl notoriously said in 2009 that no one wants to see curvy women on the runway), he seemed to want to have no grasp on the concept of “reality” anymore. As for Kardashian, who has no issue with problematic people or things (herself being a Blackfishing fiend, for a start), she was quick to re-emphasize her connection to Karl by posting photos of herself visiting Choupette ahead of the Met Gala.
Indeed, Karl’s beloved Birman cat inspired the costumes of Lil Nas X, Jared Leto and Doja Cat for the night in question. Because perhaps focusing on his cat is easier than focusing on some of the more unseemly aspects of his personal life and personality. Thus, both Wintour and curator Andrew Bolton have reiterated in multiple interviews about the exhibition that its focus is on “the work.” It’s the phrase that keeps being repeated in an era during which few are actually still capable of separating “the work” from the person who created it. And yet, Karl appears to be getting that rare pass as he’s fêted by one of the premier institutions in fashion.
To further mitigate the barrage of horrible things Lagerfeld had no trouble verbalizing, Bolton goes back to that Psych 101 theory by noting “…did he mean it? Or was it a deflection? I don’t know, it’s hard to know.” And, of course, for the sake of promoting this event, he likely really doesn’t want to know. Even the title of the theme, however, brings up an unpleasant subject matter: Karl’s myopic, often patriarchal vision of what constitutes beauty.
By way of defense of the gala’s theme, Wintour additionally offered, “Karl was provocative, and he was full of paradoxes. And I think sometimes he would say things to shock, and not necessarily things that he believed in. Karl was a complicated man.” That word, “complicated,” having no place in a world of such black-and-white views at this point in time. Not to mention it does happen to be a word that serves as a pass to anyone who does or says unforgivable things. One could also call Kanye West a “complicated man.” Does that mean his work can still be celebrated and enjoyed after all the pain he’s caused? More and more, we can see that the answer, surprisingly, is yes. Because for all the posturing about wanting to stamp out anything or anyone problematic, it seems as though people are realizing how little that would actually leave behind. As for those groups Karl often maligned (e.g., non-thin people, Black people, Jewish people, etc.) who showed up to the event, well, perhaps it just proves that one’s principles can be easily bought off by visions of media coverage and clout increase. And with fashion being a tenuous network of interconnected tentacles, when one person—even if dead—gets cancelled, it can have far-reaching effects on multiple people’s money bag.
What’s more, Karl being able to eke by with an honor like this is more telling of the fashion industry at large, and what it still ultimately represents, than anything else. And that is: exclusivity. Whether through sizeist or classist attitudes, there are so many ways to exclude people. To keep them from getting their greasy, overworked hands on the couture. Fashion tending to attract racist designers is no coincidence either (see also: John Galliano, miraculously forgiven for his sins). For it still behooves the industry’s bottom line to sell high fashion as something “aspirational” and “just out of reach.” While it might be an epoch of “democratization” for all mediums, fashion gatekeeping is what allows a magazine like Vogue to still even exist. And a man like Karl to be lauded even despite claims that it’s just about “the work.” But “the work” is always an extension of its creator.
