A+ for energy, B for balance, and babe, this silhouette needed one more fitting.
You know how people say, “If I could do anything for just one day…” and they go on about skydiving, living in Paris, or being Beyoncé?
Well, pas moi. I just want a microphone, a bedazzled press pass, and a spot on that iconic 2025 Met Gala carpet — preferably next to the velvet rope, not behind it.
For one glorious day, I’d be the person who gets to ask celebrities all the juicy stuff.
Not just “Who are you wearing?” — that’s as outdated as low-rise jeans and frosted tips.
I’m talking about the real questions:
“What was your muse tonight?”
“Did this dress nearly break your will to live during fittings?”
“Are those shoes secretly orthopedic, or are you just pretending not to feel your toes?”
The 2025 Met Gala was a full-on fashion fantasy. And trust me, I had notes.
Here’s who I’d be running to like I just heard there were free espresso martinis at the top of the Met steps:
Laura Harrier, in a sculpted silhouette that whispered old Hollywood glamour but make it 2025. chef’s kiss.
Rosé, floating through the crowd like a couture swan. She looked like she drinks diamonds for breakfast.
Jennie, mastering quiet luxury with a side of don’t-mess-with-me elegance.
Rihanna, fashion’s high priestess, obviously arrived late (as she should), and shut everything down with a look that made the statue garden jealous.
Kendall Jenner, as if a marble statue and a runway had a baby and raised it on couture.
Miley Cyrus, giving “I’m rock ‘n’ roll royalty and I know it” in the most deliciously chaotic, glittery way possible.
Zendaya, in that white suit. A power move. A style sermon. Excuse me?! Who gave her permission to redefine power dressing and make me want to buy a tailor immediately? Honestly, I nearly stood up and clapped in my living room.
Honestly, just once, I want to stand under those Met lights and ask, “What’s the story behind this look?”
Because there’s always a story. I want the behind-the-behind-the-scenes.A last-minute panic, an emotional reference, a muse no one saw coming (hello, Victorian ghostcore). I want that.
Even if I trip over Zendaya’s train or accidentally call someone’s outfit “quirky” (Rihanna would kill me), it’d be worth it.
So no, I don’t dream of being a princess or a CEO for a day.
Appelle-moi la prof de mode du tapis rouge.
The fashion teacher-on-duty: correcting posture, grading drama, sipping coffee and giving unsolicited style notes like,
“A+ for energy, B for balance, and babe, this silhouette needed one more fitting.”
Microphone in one hand, iced latte in the other.
C’est moi.
The unofficial style critic, full-time outfit whisperer, and forever in love with the magic of a really, really good look.
RETRO CHIC REVIVAL 