The 2018 Met Gala is FUCKING US UP, FAM. I don’t care about anything else! Nothing! Haha! Some politician did a thing? Who cares! They put in laws and now all our text messages will be filed onto some public internet page along with our faces? Whatever!
Seriously, I got up to go to the toot before, thinking after Rihanna and Katy Perry that surely there wouldn’t be any big, fuck-off outfits until Kim & Kanye arrived, and BLAM! Lana Del Rey, Alessandro Michele and Jared Leto waltz onto the red carpet dressed like some holy trinity of offensive-to-Catholics fake saints.
Originally I told a friend I was just going to put that photo and then this gif 300 times, because what else is there to say here:
But instead I’m going to quietly have a large thirst moment and tell you that I have a serious 70’s cult fetish – Alessandro and Jared can GET. IT.
At the same time.
Whenever they want.
HOT JESUSES, COME THRUUUUU. Jesii? IDK.
Someone book me a one way ticket to NYC so I can just wait outside the Met with a sign saying “I will happily bone you Alessandro and you Jared specifically and no one else except Donald Glover, where u at, and also Cole Sprouse if Lili doesn’t mind”. Maybe I need to make it more specific… hmm… I’ll workshop this.
ANYWAY. I digress and yes, throw me in Horny Jail.
Can we talk about Lana’s headpiece? Is it a bird? Is it 5 dead blue angels?
Sometimes Alessandro (he’s the creative director of Gucci, he’s a big deal given how KILLER Gucci has been since he’s been at the helm) got booted out of photos and I can only imagine the DRAMA.
Don’t you reckon the photogs were like “ok now just Lana and Jared goodbye other man” and he’s like BITCH I AM THE MASTERMIND OF THESE LOOKS.
Then, in my mind, he spits on the ground at their feet, storms off and re-returns solo, carried in by 10 oiled and shirtless men. Except maybe I’ve just burst out of Horny Jail and that is what has happened here.
Still – MOOOOOM AND DAAAAAAAD amirite? Like someone reincarnate me as their baby. PLEASE. I beg of you my life is boring.