The City: The Step of The Met (Part 1)

I fell in love with New York City when I was but (give or take) five years old. I had long been enamored with the rows of beautiful boutiques nestled quaintly between glamorous, large-scale department stores (a wonderful balance), the outline of the skyline and silhouette of the Empire State Building quite distinct at dusk; the image would never leave my mind after numerous encounters with it in illustrated children’s books. But it wasn’t until I picked up Eloise when I fell head over heels for the city. Its cover had be drawn in, wide-eyed and eager pore over delectable illustrations and text; where else could one possibly find a book constructed entirely of the colors black, white, pink, and golden yellow? Surely, in the eyes of a little girl those four shades epitomized glamour in a simple manner.

My infatuation with Eloise, one that lasts still to this day, is a story for another day. But the City’s appeal had seeded itself since. Perhaps it was the magic of “the city that never sleeps” that drew me in – at that time I associated it with The Nutcracker ballet, Christmastime, and all things girly and beautiful. But even now, driving past – or into – the skyline never fails to excite me. My eyes gaze longingly, my heart palpitates in excitement – all as if each sight was the first. And I am hardly exaggerating.

So begins Part I: The Steps of the Met of “The City” series.

2 August 2009

For quite some time, I have been dying to visit the “Model As Muse” Exhibit at the Metropolitan (actually, I have been wanting to visit the Met for quite some time now; deprived? I know.). And there is no one better to drag along on a rather dense fashion trip than my fabulously talented soul sister (and fellow dancer), M. (An aside: Keep her in mind, darlings, I guarantee she will be quite the big handbag designer in the future). A match made in heaven, if you will, for she is the one who understands my insatiable thirst for anything and everything fashion-related. And we both gasped driving into the city – yes, I do believe M. is the one and only comprehends me. We think on the same brain waves, without a doubt. There is proof of that; upon meeting we were clad in the same color scheme: gray/cream on our blouses, little shorts, black shoes, and a black bag.

Surely you must think me to be entirely insane for wanting to go to NYC when there are high chances of rain and a thunderstorm. But I must disagree: I find the city to be most entrancing when it is pouring – the trees are greener, the decadent apartments and shops mysterious, the streets glistening. ‘Tis a pain to have my feet soaked in flooded areas, but the sight of the city in noble grays, taupes, and bits of green really is a sight to see.

Entirely crazy? Perhaps.

Anywho. Walking up the steps did make me feel a bit more important; I was inevitably sucked into the grandeur of the decadent and renowned museum, whose entrance was covered with adorable European tourists with fancy cameras snapping away. My note to self as M. & I walked in? This is the ultimate spot for meeting lovely European boys (eye candy alongside the wondrous exhibits) or some intellectual but adorable boy of some sort. We scanned the crowd a bit and wandered in as I deliberated where to clip my petit turquoise button/clip; there was nowhere to clip it on my person save the lace camisole peeking from beneath my blouse: right at the cleavage. I swear it was not done with the intention of drawing eyes to the bust!

I must admit that the “Model As Muse” exhibit was slightly disappointing; I did my fair share of oohs and ahhs at a particular vintage Vogue cover and Verushka’s renowned shot in a Yves Saint Laurent safari-inspired lace-up tunic, but the exhibit was a bit short and a tad boring. I do feel as if the lighting hadn’t exhibited the gowns to the best of their potential, and the procession of time periods was a bit choppy. However, the concept of each area within the exhibit was well done, theme wise. And I did learn quite a lot. The glamorous 1940s & 50’s was the era in which supermodels began their reign in the fashion world.

The rest of the museum (to be exact, the exhibits we did see: Modern, Greek, Afghanistan, tribal) were quite spectacular. Beware of a picture overload, for here are my favorite snaps that I found to be entirely inspirational (specific posts to come soon!):

My two favorite paintings are by Georgia O’Keefe – the colors, the shapes – simply everything about the two are unbelievably perfect.

The infamous number five. Really the most beautiful of numbers; the straight edges, the curves, the swirl – there is a reason why this particular number is often drawn or used as an insignia of sorts.

Muriel Kallis Steinberg. The bold colors against the gold frames were brilliant.

Manierre Dawson’s The Meeting (The Three Graces). Simply beautiful.

Afghanistan: Hidden Treasures from the National Museum, Kabul. My favorite exhibit by far, for I have long been enamored and fascinated by the mysteriousness of the Middle East; not to mention, the exquisiteness of the history. Delicate gold filaments in the most beautiful of patterns juxtaposed with the earthiness of turquoise truly is the perfect contrast.

From the tribal exhibit (?):

And I leave you with my favorite quote presented at the end of the Afghanistan exhibit, which I so dutifully jotted down in my (new, patent & croc-embossed) journal:

“A nation stays alive when its culture stays alive.”

bisous,

La C.