#metgala Tumblr posts

  • mynabirdy
    07.05.2021 - 2 days ago

    I had to! It would be such an awesome movie!!💕💖💐⚔️💖💕

    #anya taylor joy #zendaya#metgala#heavenly bodies #the metropolitan museum of art #metropolitan museum of art #character art#illustration#princess#knight
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  • ldouble
    06.05.2021 - 3 days ago

    You Smell Good | Harry Styles X Reader

    summary: You and Harry prepare for the Met Gala. The only thing you fixate on...other than everything...is the way you smell. Harry on the other hand, can’t get enough of it.

    if we like this enough...should it be a senses series?

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    this gif is not mine credit to harryisart omg i love this

    You can’t help but tug at your sleeves. Someone’s hand shoos it away which you let. That is until your collar seems off. When you’re bugged away from that part of your clothing you find another to busy yourself with. Then its your hair. Your makeup. Your nails.

    You’re above to dive into your skin (it looks wayyyyyy too orange) when the hands finally have a voice.

    “Stop it.”

    You roll your neck dramatically, flopping your chin down to glare at Harry. Sitting in a director’s chair, getting his hair done. It was a ridiculous thought when he was first placed there, his holding a fourth of what you have attached to yours but it now makes sense considering he’s been there for about double the amount of times yours took.

    At the thought of it, your fingers move up unconsciously to pick at your styled mane. But, having discovered his speech is much stronger than his hands, Harry tag teams the two.

    “You look fine.”

    “Says you.” You shoot back, going to pick at the skin around your fingers.

    Suddenly all movement is paused as your hands are clasped tight in Harry’s, his eyes finding yours. His smile is gentle which makes his next words the most surprising.

    “Says what about me?”

    Your head tips back at his humorous suffering. It’s when he’s halfway through a monologue about the time and money and oh so painful hours of planning that went into his look, you’re clutching your stomach and begging him to stop.

    “Now I’m really going to mess something up.”

    Harry sighs, tilting his head away from the stylist to get a good look at you. “You could never.”

    You suck in a breathe. The hotel room has been hot for hours. The people in and out, the steamers and blow dryers and the shots that Harry has been sending since lunch has made the whole space...staticy.

    One more intense look or loving statement from your friend and you’re sure to stain the black dress you wear.

    Said to be impossible but nothing is, not when you’re about to walk down the Met Gala pink carpet with your best friend since diapers.

    Especially since you’re not wearing diapers.

    You’re wearing clothes more expensive than what God himself wears in a suite straight out the montages of movies and the water you’ve been drinking is so heavy it makes you think you’re drinking liquid gold.

    Or maybe that’s just the nerves bunching in your stomach that’s causing everything you send down to feel like its all going to come back up.

    You put a hand to your mouth, close your eyes and try to count to ten.

    But its the thing that touches you gently on the cheek that relaxes you.

    It’s not six hundred dollar hair brush or a touch up from a celebrity stylist. The complimentary moisturizer of the hotel (which only exists in places like these) doesn’t skim your skin.

    Its a priceless hand that grazes you, sending every worry and knot away just like room service was cleared earlier.

    You can’t help but lean into his touch, take a deep breath of hair product and the horrible smelling perfume someone sprayed on you.

    Your eyes open when you sense him leaning in, making you all but freeze. What could he be thinking?

    “You smell terrible.”

    Of course that’s what he’s thinking.

    “You, Mr. Co Chair, put so much thought and effort and money into this thing,” You say, moving to look in the mirror he facing. The sight of you both so done up and put together (a real change from the sweatshirts you live in when back in London when watching all of the events like the one you’re about to be in) makes you stumble. Harry begins to turn his head, forcing you to grab him and face it back to your reflection. “And the one thing you fumble on in my perfume.”

    “Trust me every choice was mine,” Harry defends as I stand to rumble through my suitcase. The duffel, a Year 10 gym bag you still use, had been useless all night. Until now of course. “Except that.”

    You shrug, wandering back over to him, your own personal balm in hand. “Hey, I’m not the one who has to whisper in my ear and tell me how pretty I am all night and ingest a whiff of what smells like dog poop.”

    Harry’s head tips back with a laugh as you uncap the bottle, handing it to him. “I thought I could whisper in your hear and tell you how awful you smell. Think of the faces you’d make for the cameras.”

    “Don’t even.” You turn, holding your ponytail up (much to the dismay of the stylist packing up across the room. “Spritz a tad on my neck will you.”

    “Interesting spot.” Harry mumbles, doing as told.

    “I’m expecting a kiss from some celebrity there tonight.” You flip back once the cool mist hits you. Harry’s eyes are stuck on your exposed collarbone but you pretend not to notice as you reach for the bottle. “Can’t have him knowing I smell.”

    “Right.” Harry squints.

    You spritz your wrists, rub them together and then bend down to the slit in the back of your dress. “If you fan my dress out I can’t have you bunching up your nose.”

    Harry takes the nose tap, grabbing your hand afterwards. He then dips down to sniff your wrists, a content smile on his lips as he looks up. “Much better.”

    “See, if you had known you had an opinion on how I smelled, you would’ve thought of this earlier.” You shake the perfume bottle at him, straightening out your dress as he stands up, going as far to help you get situated.

    “Like I would’ve been able to capture it.”

    “Capture what?” You smile, accepting your purse form one of the thousand of people in the room. You do it absently mindly having not noticed them in a while. With Harry it always feels like just you two.

    You assume he thinks the same, especially the way he ignores final touch ups and looks at you like you really are the only other breathing thing in the vicinity. “Harry.”

    He purses his lips as you egg him on. You seem him bite the inside of his cheek and it amkes you want to out a hand on it. But the way the room got so hot when he did that to you. And now with everyone moving around and the nerves building as someone shouts out something about arrival approaching...you couldn’t take it.

    You never could.

    Why were you doing this? How did you ever say yes to going out there with him in front of everyone? This was the freaking Met Gala. You hadn’t so much as gone on stage with him. Being with Harry was great. Being with Harry with the whole world was horrible.

    At least you thought.

    You saw how other best friends were treated. Talked about. Lied about. Made up about.

    He was your best friend.

    You couldn’t take it.

    “Capture all you are to me in some dinky little bottle.” He finished, bending down to grab your focus.

    It works. He could take it. Your eyes. And he did.

    He takes more than that though. Again the nerves fly away and the knots undo and you’re left just being you.

    It’s good you smell like you too.

    You shrug again, making your way to the door with his hand in yours. You’ve always had to pull him along. Never before had you thought you would do this at the Met Gala but the usual finds its self in the unusual.

    “You’re just lucky. You might not have a supermodel date but you’ve got a girl who smells just like-”

    “You.”

    You look back at him, your purse falling to the ground at the sight of his eyes all hazy and his smile so sweet.

    His words are stunning. God damn soulful.

    Dressed in his Gucci sheer ensemble, it’s like he’s singing at the fanciest of events to the girl of his dreams.

    But it’s just you. A girl wearing 10 dollar perfume from the corner store.

    It’s his turn to pull you. You switch spots as you’re frozen in yours and he leads you into the hallway, grabbing your bag on the way.

    “You smell like you and hair spray and the onion ring you just ate.”

    Your hand flies to your mouth for a breath check when he pulls you close in the elevator.

    “You smell great.”

    You look up at him, a smile on your lips.

    “And you,” Your hands can’t help but play with the ribbons on his collar. “Have smelled better nearly every other time.”

    He chuckles, his top teeth hugging his bottom lip. The ding of the elevator sounds before the car stops with a thud. People are moving. There’s talking. There’s so much going on but all you can smell is....

    Carpet cleaner.

    And windex for the mirror walls.

    And Harry.

    You can’t wait to see what else you sense along the way.

    #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #metgala#harry #harry styles x blurb #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot
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  • girlsdressingrooms
    05.05.2021 - 4 days ago

    Brendan McCann’s science-inspired dress for this year's Met Gala!

    Every first Monday in May since 1948, society’s cultural haut monde gathers under the guise of fundraising for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute to compete for the most fashionable, and increasingly most outlandish, outfit in the Met Gala.

    Brendan McCann’s (an artist and art teacher based in New York) handmade dress honors the real celebrities of our era: the scientists and medical experts who created safe and effective coronavirus vaccines in record time.

    His dress features a flared skirt of paper vaccination cards and an asymmetrical corset composed of jeweled Band-Aids. The ensemble comes together with a towering needle headpiece and a plastic “FAUCI” clutch filled with donuts freely provided by Krispy Kreme to anyone who is vaccinated. Purple latex gloves complete the look.

    “The vaccination couture is made out of a table cover, poster board, craft foam, and other materials I had lying around my apartment, and some things from the dollar store,” McCann said to Hyperallergic.

    “One day I hope I can attend the actual Gala,” he added. “It would be a dream come true. Even if they just want me to vacuum the steps … I’m available!” (Hey Max Hollein, we hope you’re listening!)

    Photo by Josh Levinson / @JKLPhoto, courtesy of Brendan McCann,

    by Valentina Di Liscia for Hyperallergic

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  • couturies
    03.05.2021 - 6 days ago

    like or reblog <3 ✧*:・゚✧

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  • parzivalkira
    19.04.2021 - 2 weeks ago

    imagine someone pulling this off in the met gala

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  • chiokedmachi
    18.04.2021 - 3 weeks ago

    https://www.infomusic.fr/?s=chioke @info_music_fr | | #heartlessreign #sharingtheworldwithyou #livestream #mcm #virturaltour #2020 #actorslife🎬 #losangelesnightlife # #chioke #chiokedmachi #dmachi #losangelesblogger #lanightlife #lafashion #metgala #lasinger #newartist #danielhoffagency #losangeles #now #musicdiscovery (at Paris, France) https://www.instagram.com/p/CMxEk2cB5kP/?igshid=1gh6vdrgub4nk

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  • goldenxcreature
    26.03.2021 - 1 mont ago

    i tried drawing harry at the met gala 2019 :)

    #harry#fineline#harries#hs1#harry styles#harrystyles#met gala#metgala #met gala 2019 #harry styles met gala #iconic outfit #harry styles iconic outfit #fine line #harry styles drawing #drawing
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