*there are museums that teach creationism as scientific fact and say that satan created dinosaur fossils and the earth is only 6,000 years old. but those aren’t real museums. so when i say chaos to couture is the literally the worst thing in a museum, i mean it’s the worst exhibit in a museum that attempts to display cultural artifacts and teach the public actual facts.
the met is a seriously legit place, and when it comes to classical art, they have nailed it. the whole pay-what-you-like-but-we’re-going-to-bargain-you-higher-admission is kind of a scam, and i had to summon my powers of bartering that i haven’t used since i lived in russia to haggle the price to a number. “art is expensive,” says the smarmy hipster behind the computer as he holds my credit card above the swipe, “are you sure wouldn’t like to donate more?” no. i’m a student. i’m paying you the price it says student admission costs. “art is expensive” the smipster repeats. i know, darling. i finally obtain my button-pass-thinger and run towards the galleries before anyone changes their mind.
the egyptian gallery is life-altering. the islamic art was awe-inducing. i found a rodin by accident and nearly lost my breath. i should’ve taken better notes at all the pieces that inspired me and the artists i wanted to research. but time was limited and i was on a mission: my heart’s deepest desire was to see the punk exhibit.
i could hear the music as i rounded the corner. the lighting dimmed. standing before me was a line of mannequins in crazy wigs and beautiful clothes. i stood open-mouthed and took the construction of each item in, then begun to read the plaques. vivienne westwood, vivienne westwood, vivienne westwood, vivienne westwood, vivienne westwood. i stopped reading the plaques as each outfit was not worn by a famous person for a notable event, they were all just from the collection of vivienne westwood. who is amazing. and did contribute a great deal to the aesthetic of punk. but if i wanted to see her collection, i would just go to her store. also, if this exhibit was an exhibit on vivienne westwood, they should’ve just called it that.
on the wall, there is a large explanation of how the sex pistols weren’t influenced by jackson pollock when they went around wearing outfits with paint splatters! no! they had been painting something, didn’t have time to change before the show, and the crowd was so nuts for paint splatters, that was how everyone started wearing paint splatters! this is my first indication that this exhibit attributes everything about punk to sid vicious and vivienne westwood.
there is a “replica” of the loo at cbgb. it’s pretty dingy, grimy, and a little wet, but it looks like punk rock mr. clean is the bathroom attendant at this club, as there is no piss, shit, or puke to be found. i’m starting to mentally mock the curator at this point. “ooooh, you know what would be so *~edgy~*? if we put a bathroom in the middle of the exhibit!!! but don’t make it too gross.” i’ve seen dirtier restrooms than that on college campuses. in the words of gob bluth: COME ON.
there’s something about sid vicious wearing a safety pin, so then everyone wore safety pins. the music in the background is an assortment of tracks i can’t make out because 1) most of the songs are playing on top of each other and 2) all of the music is periodically interrupted by a shrill buzzer. oh. i get it. that’s the chaos in chaos to couture. you guys are so edgy and metaphorical! there are literally *no* other ways to illustrate the chaos of punk than to layer tracks with the same regard to rhythm and notes as sid, the met’s favourite muse. i’ve been to shows where bands were simultaneously playing on close stages and it still sounded better than whatever someone cobbled together for this. let me say this one more time: i have seriously brought canned pet food to punk shows that benefit animal shelters and heard better music than i heard at the metropolitan museum of art. i don’t know how else to tell you how wrong you’re doing it.
back to the exhibit. i turn around. there’s a mannequin wearing a tee shirt that says RAPE. vivienne westwood designed that, too. and the shirt costs $565, according to google.
i’m such a sucker for structured clothing with lots of spikes. there’s a circular display of mannequins in some gorgeous outfits. i take two photos – half for posterity, half as a guide for constructing my own version. a guard informs me that no photography is allowed. “oh, is that part of the punk exhibit?”, i ask. the guard looks confused. “are you inspiring people to the punk spirit by telling them what they can’t do?” no. photography genuinely isn’t allowed. but only in this exhibit.
piss off. i’m going to take fucking photos. ROCK AND ROLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! \m/
in the next hall is elizabeth hurley’s safety pin dress, as designed by versace. there’s a bunch more outfits by westwood, moschino, d&g, chanel… some as recent as last season. interesting, but not the exhibit i signed up for. i stumble across a design by calvin klein. what. just what. calvin klein is, without a doubt, the least punk designer i can even think of. what chaos to couture intends to tell is “punk’s origin story as a tale of two cities” by “focusing on the relationship between the punk concept of ‘do-it-yourself’ and the couture concept of ‘made-to-measure’.” those are actual quotes from literature on the exhibit. what chaos to couture actually tells is nothing. the story is told as if sid vicious was so instrumental in creating punk fashion, but only a handful of the mannequins are male. john lydon gets a few quotes in, but the majority are attributed to john ritchie. and the sex pistols reign supreme. the clash who? the ramones what? and you can forget about any beautiful and fitting tributes to debbie harry, cyndi lauper, joan jett, patti smith, poly styrene, siouxsie sioux, kim gordon… for the curators at the met, women in punk only exist to wear clothing! hundred and million dollar clothing! oh, and that whole bullshit about the concept of d-i-y? yeah, most of my d-i-y projects cap out at $300, so i would say there is literally nothing in the exhibit that was actually “done” by any non-couturiers “themselves”, save the small assortment of mannequins dressed in – i shit you not – garbage bags.
did you enjoy your time at the exhibit? perhaps you would like to commemorate it with a $250 tee shirt with the exhibit logo in hot pink, screened especially for you by comme des garçons. or perhaps this $600 print of sid vicious, the only person to contribute anything to punk, ever.
the pros: 1) it was 90 farenheit when i visited nyc, and this exhibit had air conditioning, so it was more enjoyable than being outside; 2) it was actually really exciting to see a mcqueen design in person; and 3) who am i kidding, three bullet points is way too long for the positives.
the cons: everything. maybe it should just be a rule that the met can only be good at explaining things that happened before 1970. wikipedia does a better job of explaining punk than chaos to couture does. taking drugs and going to a battle of the bands is more informative, enriching, and actually punk rock. i should’ve just stayed at moma waiting for five hours to get into the rain room.
who's that girl? 