The Met Ball, due to take place this Monday, has for this year at least, gone dark. It’s only the second pause in its relentless 70 year stampede through popular culture.
The first was in 2002, in the wake of 9/11. In other words, only disease and war can stop it in its tracks, which is, in its way, impressive.
But can I be the only one grateful for the momentary peace and quiet? It’s not that I don’t enjoy a kitsch parade of frocks.
But not having pictures of desperate-for-attention celebs cluster-bombing my Insta feed on Tuesday morning will feel like not having a stream of cars squealing up and down all around me on the M1.
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