Alicia Keys and Maggie Gyllenhaal both went for it on neutrality, but with a twist; Keys’ jacket is basically trying to sell Gyllenhaal’s belt a timeshare in Bermuda, which would be cute if that belt didn’t already live there.
Stella McCartney has been the patron saint of this year’s pantsuits. With supermodel Cara Delevingne, she has matched her inky eye make-up with her creations, gone ham on flash tattoos, and probably had the best time whilst doing so. With Maggie Q, a pantsuit aficionado with her fiance Dylan McDermott, they’re all sleek and prioritizing comfort which, same.
At left, Jeremy Scott and Katy Perry wear Scott’s newest designs for Moschino, fall 2015. They are fucking awful, derivative, obvious and look like two black vans that got stuck in a parking garage overnight, to boot. Kendall Jenner is in Calvin Klein, whose minimalism is often delectable, but here is lacking in adventure. It’s a good shade on her. It’s fine.
I love that Robert Pattinson is wearing coattails, but more so I love FKA Twigs’s gown from Christopher Kane’s Fall 2015 line. You can Google it and discover that yes it is a dick on her dress—shocking!—but more importantly it looks like she has four legs. Sarah Jessica Parker is doing too much—a vague gesture to flames and maybe Chinese New Year and, possibly, Cinco de Mayo, which I do not celebrate. I wish she’d brought along her haberdasher for explanation—Philip Treacy— instead of Andy Cohen, but he’s cool and wearing a tux.
Emily Blunt! I don’t know, embroidery is cool but Fan Bingbing essentially stunted on everyone at this gala, minus Rihanna (goddamn!), with this gorgeous silk cape, covering a stunning gold gown that makes Anne Hathaway’s quasi-stunner (what’s with the hood?) seem like weekend material. There’s also Jennifer Lawrence, in Dior. It’s pretty, but hopefully that’s a break-away skirt so she can dance later.
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