Fashion as Art. Has the Met Gala Lost Sight of Its Origins?
I have kept my thoughts on this to myself for a long time. It feels like the right moment to share them.
Before I dive in, it might help to know a couple of things about me.
Fashion and the fashion industry are, in my mind, two very different beasts. The concept of fashion holds excitement. Creativity, style, an exploration of expression and tradition. The way clothing can carry culture, history, identity. The way a beautifully made garment can tell a story that outlasts the person who wore it. That version of fashion I find endlessly interesting and inspiring.
The fashion industry is something else entirely. The relentless churn of trends. The same silhouettes recycled under a different name each season. The who's hot and what's in and buy this now energy that has very little to do with creativity and everything to do with consumption. Not to mention the unethical practice of using other people's designs and calling them your own. That version makes me baulk. It is not my cup of tea and it never has been.
The Met Gala is a different kind of discomfort for me. It is not the original purpose of the Met Gala I take issue with, but the extravagance, the elitism and the money which has taken centre stage. This is why I have remained quiet about the Gala over the past few years, because it didn't gel with me, but it has gone a step too far this year to remain quiet.
Something has shifted. More voices in the slow fashion and ethical fashion world, and even those not connected to the fashion industry, are saying what some of us have been quietly thinking. So here are my thoughts, for those who are interested.
A little background, for those who aren't familiar
To understand the Met Gala, it helps to understand the woman who set the whole thing in motion.
Eleanor Lambert was deeply passionate about art and spent much of her early career working closely with artists to promote them while they were still alive, at a time when recognition typically came after death. Her path crossed with fashion, itself an artform she understood and connected with deeply, and that became her life's work. She believed fashion deserved the same serious attention and preservation as any other creative discipline.
That conviction led her to become a driving force behind the Costume Institute, dedicated to collecting and preserving fashion history, creating a visual record of where fashion had been and where it was going. When the institute aligned with the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Lambert began raising funds for it through her Midnight Supper events, bringing together artists, cultural figures and people of influence for an evening in support of fashion as art. Tickets were fifty dollars. It was modest, but had a very clear and genuine intention. The Midnight Supper became the Met Gala in 1948.
Lambert also spent her career lifting up American fashion designers at a time when the world looked only to Paris. One of her greatest achievements was organising the Battle of Versailles in 1973, a fundraising event held at the Palace of Versailles that finally put American and French designers side by side. The Americans brought something fresh, unexpected and vital to Paris that night. It was exactly what Lambert had spent her life working towards, fashion seen with fresh eyes, respected as art, recognised without prejudice. It is interesting to note here as well, that she had ten Black models as part of the American program, something relatively unheard of at the time.
I sometimes wonder if she could have imagined how it would all turn out.
Diana Vreeland, former editor in chief of Vogue, joined the mix in 1972, bringing cultural figures, Hollywood names and artists into the fold and introducing the concept of a theme to the Gala. Then Anna Wintour came along (there could be a whole other blog post just on her). For now, Wintour cemented the theme idea and aligned it directly with the Costume Institute's annual exhibition, deepening the fashion as art connection. She also made the event considerably more selective, more elite and way more expensive. A ticket to the 2026 Gala would have set you back US$100,000, if you were deemed worthy of an invitation. Though I suspect most guests had their tickets covered by the designers dressing them. What a glamorous advertising package.
So what happened?
The 2026 Met Gala was themed Costume Art, with a dress code of Fashion is Art. An invitation to explore the dressed body across five thousand years of history. What a rich and fascinating exploration this could have been. Exactly the kind of theme that connects fashion back to its deeper cultural roots.
It was primarily funded by Jeff Bezos and his wife Lauren Sanchez Bezos. A billionaire who owns one of the most questionable and unethical online businesses, which I won't waste my breath on, bankrolled what is supposed to be a celebration of fashion as art. The irony is not subtle. The people who make, pack and ship the clothes that fuel that machine are very much part of the sustainability conversation, whether the event acknowledged them or not.
I do not doubt that the money does genuine good. The Costume Institute is the only curatorial department at the Met required to fund its own operations. Without major donors, exhibitions of this scale simply do not happen. That is a real challenge and I respect that.
But I also think it is worth sitting with the question of what it means when the language of art and culture and fashion history is underwritten by the economy of excess. Is this a sell out?
The theme, and who took it seriously
If you are interested in a thoughtful, art history led assessment of who actually interpreted the theme with depth and rigour, I would point you to Luke Mahar's channel HauteLeMode. He evaluates looks against the curatorial brief rather than simply ranking who looked beautiful, and it is a more interesting conversation, thank you very much.
What I keep returning to is not the individual looks but a broader question the event raises every year, and louder this year than most. The theme was Fashion is Art. But art, at its most honest, asks us to look critically at the world we are in. It asks questions. It sits with discomfort. It does not simply dress excess in more elegant language.
Some guests and their designers missed the mark completely, and others simply didn't care. One look in particular drew a lot of attention, assembled from somewhere between thirty and a hundred vintage garments, accounts varied, deconstructed and rebuilt into a single piece. The designer spoke about feeling the history embedded in the original pieces. Great. There is a story here, meaning and creative thought. However, is the origin of the dresses used questionable?
I find this genuinely interesting to think about. If those were simply pre-loved garments brought together creatively without producing anything new, that is a real conversation about sourcing as artistry and sustainability. But if any were historically significant pieces that could have found a more considered home, the question becomes more complicated. Was this sustainability as practice, or sustainability as aesthetic? Did we lose some truly historical garments for a one night exhibition, or did waste take the stage and hold the spotlight ever so glamorously? The information available about the gown seems vague, with different versions coming from the wearer and the designer, nothing conclusive.
What fashion as art looks like to me
I make clothes by hand, one at a time, in a small studio in the Dandenong Ranges. Every garment is made by my own hands, fairly and transparently. My preference is for natural fibres and fabrics that are already in circulation or on hand. I design to produce as little waste as possible. Circularity is a driving force, with many hurdles, but ones that make my work more considered, and slow.
None of that is seen as particularly glamorous or red carpet worthy, however it could be. I did create a really fun upcycled gown for last year's NGV Gala which was a challenge, yet wonderful.
But when I think about what fashion as art means as a lived practice rather than a theme or a dress code, it looks like paying attention. It looks like making something with enough care and thought that it outlasts the moment it was made for. It looks like knowing where your fabric comes from, who made it, what it cost the earth to produce. It looks like clothing that carries a story worth telling. It looks like originality and exploration.
The Met Gala is many things. It funds genuinely important cultural work. It can, at its best, be a platform for ideas and craft and real creativity. It can also be a very expensive room full of people approved by the right person, dressed in things made to be photographed for 24 hours.
This year, more than any I can remember, the disparity between meaningful art and a genuine celebration of the industry are miles apart.
I do not have a tidy conclusion. I just think these are questions worth asking out loud, and I am glad more people seem to be asking them.
Has the Met Gala become an exhibition of fame, fortune and connection? Has it lost its origins and humanity?
Sustainably, Jo
by Audrey & Grace, ethical slow fashion, handmade in Melbourne's Dandenong Ranges
Curious about slow fashion and what it actually means in practice? Browse the collection at byaudreyandgrace.com
