“The fuck kind of GD camp is this?! Fuck this, I’m going to go get my camp fix by watching Showgirls or seeing if my old lady neighbor is again watering the plastic flowers she planted in her front yard while telling her barking dog to shut up,” is what I’ve been screaming for the past 87 hours while watching the Met Gala arrivals.
This year’s Meth Gala theme is “camp,” and as Ben told us earlier, many of the celebrities were nervous they weren’t going to bring it, and they had every right to be nervous, because most didn’t. They wouldn’t know camp if it ate their ass and bought them a steak dinner. The night opened with one of the gala’s chairs, Lady Gaga, giving a long ass performance art piece that was pretty much just her busting out facial expressions like Carol Channing having a surprising orgasm on a loop as she stripped off one boring ensemble after the other. I watched this on E!, and honestly watching those kiss ass hosts declare Gaga the Queen of Camp was more campy than Gaga’s looks.
Gaga started off looking like a Trixie Mattel impersonator who was possessed by a Kewpie Doll on molly, and with the help of designer Brandon Maxwell, and some umbrella-carrying dudes in tuxes, she changed from a boring pink hot air balloon into a boring black dress, and then into a boring pink dress, and then into a boring bra and some boring chonies. The changes were awkward and messy and took way too long. If I wanted to watch someone awkwardly strip down to reveal something disappointing, I’d get naked in front of a mirror.
But wait, does Gaga channeling Brit Brit Spears’ train wreck VMAs performance of 2007 (which was pretty campy) count as camp? No, but it does make her a #FreeBritney protester.
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