The trouble with last night's party at the Met, if I may speak frankly, is that it was a little like being sucked into a sequined wind tunnel. It started with a little breeziness before the superhero displays—Oh, hey, Narciso and Claire! Hi Liya! Alessandra! Isaac! Diane! Tom!—and then, suddenly, people seemed to be flying around the room....But I thought Anna Wintour looked great in her Chanel dress—fantastical fashion....And though I didn't see Victoria Beckham until later, in pictures, her lace Armani coat dress was definitely a look—Hollywood grandeur with a wink. Zac Posen and his date Kate Mara, in outfits painfully inspired by Superman, get the try-harder award. I'll be interested to know who you all thought looked super—and not.

One could probably read as many metaphors about the transformative power of fashion in the silver-sequined, elaborately padded Chanel gown that Anna Wintour wore to the Costume Institute gala on Monday night as one could in Superman's cape, which happened to be hanging in a gallery down the hall. The floor-length dress had curiously curling crescents attached at the hips and the shoulders, giving Ms. Wintour, the Vogue editor and overseer of the Metropolitan Museum of Art's annual Party of the Year, the fuller-bodied appearance of Botticelli's Venus on her clamshell. She seemed to be broadcasting a message of total earthly control. (Or it could have been that all the Vogue assistants standing along the way to Ms. Wintour's receiving line had been strictly instructed not to speak to anyone, not even to people they recognized, or that so many guests were unusually prompt.) With this year's gala titled "Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy," Ms. Wintour pointed out that she was Storm, the "X-Men" character. "I control the weather," she said.

Blake Lively wore black gloves and a snug black Ralph Lauren gown involving feathers. She said that her favorite superhero was "Spider-Man. Cause he's awesome! He gets to swing around, and, I don't know....I've always seen pictures growing up, being a teenager, and thought, 'I'd love to go to that, a night just to dress up in ball gowns.' And here I am!"...Vogue editor and hostess Anna Wintour was the first to arrive, at 6:33 p.m., wearing a Chanel gown adorned with what appeared to be seahorse tails and accompanied by daughter Bee Shaffer, who required two men, including the formidable Vogue editor at large André Leon Talley, to carry the train of her voluminous blue Nina Ricci dress up the stairs....Designer Phillip Lim came with teenage model-of-the-moment Chanel Iman,..."I've been here last year, and this is her first time here, so she's the newbie...it's a lot of pressure."

It was a silver moment for Julia Roberts, wearing a swoop-neck dress by Giorgio Armani, who underwrote the event. Her co-chairs were Clooney and Anna Wintour, the editor-in-chief of Vogue, who wore a Superwoman creation by Chanel with snakes of padding at shoulders and thighs. Fashion's superheroes included Donatella Versace, who dressed Janet Jackson in a cut-away back dress, Karl Lagerfeld, wearing a sparkling silver jacket while he dressed Kate Bosworth in a multicolored patchwork of vintage Chanel; and Valentino, who was with the model Claudia Schiffer wearing a frilled blue dress from the retired designer's last collection....The cast of the newly revived "Hair" sang "The Age of Aquarius" and "Let the Sun Shine In." David Bowie, sitting with his wife, Iman, looked pained at this new rendition of the counterculture musical.

[George] Clooney joked that he had wanted to dress as Batman, but the costume was already in the exhibition, so he settled for a midnight blue Giorgio Armani tuxedo. Anna Wintour, shimmering in silver cyber-couture, by Karl Lagerfeld at Chanel, declared: "I stopped the rain"....The tennis star Venus Williams and American Vogue's editor-at-large, André Leon Talley, shared a red satin, super-cape for two that was custom-made by Chanel. The actress Scarlett Johansson wore a Dolce & Gabbana gown with a large diamond solitaire which announced her engagement to the actor, Ryan Reynolds. The designer Marc Jacobs confessed to wearing Superman underwear beneath his tuxedo....The "Superheroes" exhibition opens with a mirrored illusion of Clark Kent morphing into Superman and features radical catwalk creations by some of the world's top designers and comic book costumes from Hollywood blockbusters such as Spiderman and Batman.

It's the Oscars of the fashion industry, but if the looks on parade at Monday's Costume Institute gala in New York were anything to go by, that industry is in a sorry state of disarray. Hosted by Vogue editor Anna Wintour (in a Starlight Express moment, perhaps taking the superhero theme somewhat literally) and Giorgio Armani (looking as buff, relaxed and fashionably weathered as ever) the normally ultra-glamorous event fell flat as the proverbial pancake, where the frocks were concerned at least....how about Katie Holmes, who's clearly sharing a sunbed with her new best friend, Victoria Beckham? Someone really ought to have warned her that tomato red and orange is a challenging colour combination and that her razor-sharp bob is more Playmobil nurse than intergalactic heroine. And what of the aforementioned Mrs Beckham? Even by this particular fashion car crash's standards, her dress was disastrous. Nancy Reagan circa 1985, anyone? That cool-as-a-cucumber chignon, meanwhile, isn't kidding anyone. A Hitchcock heroine the artist formerly known as Posh most certainly is not.

Armani dressed Clooney and Roberts. "He asked me very sweetly if I'd be his date," Roberts, wearing a platinum Giorgio Armani Privé gown, said about the designer, who also outfitted other A-list celebrities, including Tom Cruise, Katie Holmes, Beyoncé Knowles and John Mayer....Clooney was taking it all in stride. "I get to have a drink. It's easy for me," he said. As for the superhero theme, he said he had a favorite when he was a kid: "Well, you know, I loved one that no one ever talks about, the Green Hornet. He was really cool." [Thandie] Newton, in a short dress in black lace with a long cape, said, "I like this because it's one look — and two looks. She made up her own superhero inspiration. "I'm Love Woman," she said. "I wanted to do a bit of skin."

"I think the secret of a good exhibition is when it happens very easily, which is what happened here," Anna Wintour told us of the Metropolitan Museum's Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy installation. We had many more looks in the exhibition than we could use, so [the idea] is obviously, once you start to look, really out there. It was largely Andrew [Bolton, the exhibition curator]'s vision that brought it all together but we've been very fortunate that at the same time," she added. "All these movies are coming out and the Olympics are coming up, so it all sort of came together."

Holy Stars, Batman! It was a celeb-studded affair at the Metropolitan Museum on Monday night as the world's fashion elite and Hollywood heavyweights met on Fifth Ave. to kick off the Costume Institute's latest exhibit, "Superheroes: Fashion and Fantasy." And while the night's theme celebrated cat suits and unitards, the red carpet featured far more glam getups: Co-hosts Julia Roberts and George Clooney giggled together as they strolled in wearing Giorgio Armani. "I wore the dress because he made it for me," said Roberts, who gave the designer, who sponsored the evening with Vogue magazine, a hug....Fashion darling Zac Posen took the theme seriously, rocking out Clark Kent-worthy spectacles and revealing his own secret identity. "I worked here as an intern for three years," he said. "I got paid $60 to do the event."

Depression (as I see it, at least) causes apathy in the face of this unease, lethargy approaching total paralysis, an inability to feel much of anything one way or another. In contrast, melancholia generates a deep feeling in regard to this same anxiety, a turbulence of heart that results in an active questioning of the status quo, a perpetual longing to create new ways of being and seeing.

The American dream of happiness might be a nightmare. What passes for bliss could well be a dystopia of flaccid grins. Our passion for felicity hints at an ominous hatred for all that grows and thrives and then dies. I'd hate for us to awaken one morning and regret what we've done in the name of untroubled enjoyment. I'd hate for us to crawl out of our beds and walk out into a country denuded of gorgeous lonely roads and the grandeur of desolate hotels, of half-cracked geniuses and their frantic poems. I'd hate for us to come to consciousness when it's too late to live.

And calling a shrink. And maybe getting a job in marketing.

The Secret To Happiness: It's In Iceland [Economist]
In Praise Of Melancholia [ChronicleReview]

The Muse [the It Bag created by Yves Saint Laurent]...was the Palme d'Or among accessory addicts. Like a slain stag slung across the roof of a pickup truck, the Muse signified that a woman had bagged the right bag. Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton and other starlets reserved the cozy crooks of their arms for the popular purse. These days, life pales for the Muse...[T]he YSL handbag was last seen...priced at 20% off. Much like the popular pretty girl who always dies first in a horror film, the "it" bag was a victim of its own ambition.

The it Bag Is Dead. Designers Mourn. [All the Rage]
Related: Is This It for the It Bag? [New York Times]

[S]cholars may conclude instead that this was the year in which designers finally succumbed to the baser desires of an overheated celebrity culture, in which the only thing that matters is fame and the only means to succeed is by screaming, "Look at me!" At least, that's what they might think after reviewing some of the year's worst fashion moments, in which actions seem so obviously calculated to provoke.

As Wilson asks, what do we remember about Valentino from the previous year? His spectacular 40th anniversary retrospective? No of course not. We remember that he repeatedly asserted that he wasn't going to retire and then, well, announced just that. What do we remember about Marc Jacobs? His rather provocative Spring 2008 collection which perverted notions of femininity and decorum? No: We remember that his Spring 2008 show started a gajillion hours late and that lots of editors got pissed and then Marc got pissier and dyed his hair blue. (And furthermore, fashion itself took a back seat to big ol' nasty hair this year: Nothing calls attention better than pairing ratty cut-offs with a giant beehive, after all. Or, um, just shaving your head.) This was, as Wilson put it, "The Year That Yelled 'Notice Me'." Which raises some interesting questions about fashion itself.


What is it that is off-putting about fashion reflecting a "Look at me!" attitude when, in fact, the very essence of the art is to control and alter the way in which people, well, look at things? What does it mean to be "disappointed" in the fashion industry for shifting its focus away from the clothes and towards the people wearing the clothes? Is this not the very same concept that created the unfortunate sensation that is reality television? Substance means nothing, branding means everything. And the most powerful brands of our time are nothing more than the names of people who have, at best, parlayed their day jobs into celebrity (read: Wilson's dismay over seeing Vera Wang make a cameo appearance on Ugly Betty) and, at worst, have parlayed a lack of a day job into celebrity (read: The Hills, which even Marc Jacobs found important enough to pay a visit to.) We live in the age of "Notice Me." We're just wondering what took fashion so long to catch up with the times.

The Year That Yelled 'Notice Me' [NY Times]

At Balenciaga, the models' legs were caged in futuristic footwear made of metal plates laced up to the knees with braids. At Yves Saint Laurent, the soles of Mr. Pilati's needle-thin stilettos were replaced by a thin metal rod that connected the heel to the toe, leaving the most sensitive — some would say erotic — underbelly of the foot vulnerably exposed. The models looked as if they were walking a tightrope, and the audience was made to feel alternately fascinated and terrified.

Just so we're clear: This spring it's going to be cool to look as girly as you possibly can, and then add a heaping portion of humiliation. Choosing pain, embarrassment, subjugation, and degradation? Hotttt! Plus, if the outfit says, "Come hither, I am an innocent flower," then the shoes seal the deal by making it impossible to run away. They should just write "Please date rape me" along the sides! The best part is that because of the focus on shoes, crafty designers are predicting an end to the "it bag." Paging all podiatrists: clear your calendars. We predict an influx of broken ankles when those McQueen clunkers (above) hit the streets.

Killer Designs Or Killer Shoes [NYT]

...what is a reader to make of a Vuitton ad, coming in the big September books, that stars Mikhail S. Gorbachev, the last president of the Soviet Union? A decade ago, Mr. Gorbachev's appearance in a Pizza Hut commercial was generally greeted as a low point in his career.

Memo to Eric Wilson and the Vuitton ad execs: Scarlett Johnasson makes us not want to buy your wares. The still-regal looking Mikhail G., however, makes us want to get our grimy 'lil hands on an overpriced, monogrammed piece of canvas ASAP. And we're not alone. Actual conversation between one Jezebel and her mother:

Jezebel: Why do I love Gorbachev so much?
Mother: Because he's the comfort food of former world leaders.

Gorbachev Made Me Buy It [NYT]

Specifically, says Eric, when it comes to home and fashion design, antlers are en vogue. Could be a protest against the Iraq War, says one trendsetter. Perhaps it's a return to nature, says another. But Eric has other ideas!

Still, many people seem to like them as florid decorative embellishment, though they are not exactly sure why, or whether they are politically correct. One may recall that it was the oafish Gaston, in Disney's "Beauty and the Beast," who delivers the line in song, "I use antlers in all of my decorating." So does most of Brooklyn.

Next week: Cathy Horyn's takes on the trend of the shell-bra among momzillas on the Upper West Side, as inspired by The Little Mermaid.

If There's a Buck in It Somewhere [NYTimes]