The 2025 Met Gala arrived with a theme so potent it could’ve resurrected André Leon Talley himself: Superfine: Tailoring Black Style. A celebration of Black dandyism’s legacy, it promised to honor the Atlantic diaspora’s sartorial rebellion, where a pocket square was a protest and a Zoot Suit a middle finger to oppression. Instead, the night unfolded like a Shakespearean tragedy: full of sound and fury, signifying… well, let’s discuss.
The Theme That Deserved Better
Inspired by the Met’s “Black Dandy” exhibit, this year’s focus was razor-sharp: menswear as a canvas for Black identity, power, and defiance. Vogue called it “a deep dive into how clothing shaped Black resistance,”but the red carpet often felt like a shallow splash. The absence of Met Gala stalwarts, Taylor Swift, Blake Lively, Lady Gaga, left gaps wider than the Grand Canyon, while once-reliable “bombshells” like Kendall Jenner and Kim Kardashian served looks as memorable as a Zoom background.
Yet, in the cracks of disappointment, brilliance bled through.
The Crowns: Who Actually Understood the Assignment
Zendaya in Louis Vuitton
A cream suit so impeccably tailored it could’ve been spun from clouds, paired with a wide-brimmed hat and scarlet nails sharp enough to slash systemic bias. Minimalism? No. Mastery.
Lupita Nyong’o in Chanel
Powder-blue suiting with a transparent cape and bedazzled eyebrows? A nod to dandyism’s whimsy, proving Black elegance thrives in the balance of rigor and rebellion.
Colman Domingo in Valentino
He swaggered in like a Black church revival, cloaked in a choir robe tribute, then dropped it to reveal a Zoot Suit so sharp it sliced through 80 years of history. The gasp? Louder than the 1943 riots that inspired it.
Diana Ross in Sxteen Eleven
At 81, Miss Ross floated in on an 18-foot train embroidered with her family’s names. Lesson: When you’re the diva, you don’t follow themes, you drag them behind you.
The Clowns: When the Theme Went to Die
Rihanna in Marc Jacobs
The queen of fashionably late arrivals (and now, motherhood) shut down the carpet twice: first in a curve-hugging Miu Miu gown announcing Baby No. 3, then in Jacobs’ deconstructed pinstripes. A bustle skirt, polka-dot cravat, and a Stephen Jones hat so theatrical it deserved its own Tony? Chef’s kiss.
Halle Berry in Laquan Smith
A neckline dangling by a prayer and a hat that screamed “I raided Liberace’s estate sale.” Tacky? Yes. Boring? Never.
Pamela Anderson in Tory Burch
Pam’s “clean girl” era met a sequined sack that fit like a last-minute Amazon delivery. Minimalist makeup needs maximalist drama, not a dress that whispered “I gave up halfway.”
The Invisible Kardashian-Jenner Brigade
Kendall’s gray Torishéju suit? Camouflage for a corporate retreat. Kim’s Chrome Hearts leather? A “edgy” choice… for a PTA meeting.
Nigeria’s dazzling debutantes
Some Nigerian celebs transformed fashion’s most scrutinized night into a celebration of authentic African elegance. Burna Boy commanded attention in a burgundy three-piece suit and leather cape, radiating Afro-dandy swagger, while Tems redefined red carpet grandeur in an explosive Ankara ballgown that married traditional craftsmanship with avant-garde drama. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie brought intellectual heft to the proceedings, proving that true sophistication needs no gimmicks. Amongst other like Arya Starr, together, they delivered what the lackluster event desperately needed: looks rooted in cultural specificity rather than performative trend-chasing.
The Elephant in the Room: Where Was Everyone Else?
The absence of A-listers turned the Met’s staircase into a ghost town. No Blake Lively’s Hamilton-level historical fanfiction. No Gaga’s meat dresses or Ariana’s campy puff sleeves. Even Rihanna kept us waiting until the death rattle of the carpet. Social media erupted: “This isn’t a gala, it’s an open-casket viewing.”
But let’s be fair: Gigi Hadid’s slinky gold Miu Miu gown initially roasted for ignoring the theme was a quiet tribute to Josephine Baker’s glamour. Sometimes, rebellion is subtle.
Verdict: Funeral or Phoenix Rising?
Yes, the 2025 Met Gala lacked the chaotic glamour of years past. But to declare it “dead” misses the point. Black dandyism isn’t about spectacle, it’s about survival. Colman’s Zoot Suit, Lupita’s brows, Diana’s train, these weren’t just outfits. They were archives.
The Met’s misstep wasn’t the theme, it was the execution. When you center Black history, you need Black visionaries leading,not just attending. Imagine co-chairs like Virgil Abloh (rest in power) or Law Roach dictating the vibe.
So, is the Met Gala dead? Or was 2025 simply its molting season shedding old skin for something bolder?
Let’s pray 2026 brings less funeral, more resurrection. And maybe a theme that doesn’t let Harry Styles wear a tux. Again.
