Before the Dresses, the Drama

a pre-Met Gala guide to the Discourse

Let’s keep it cute but real: the Met Gala hasn’t been just about solely fashion in years. At this point it’s a culture war in couture, an Instagram runway for Very Online people, a $75k TikTok activation with a red carpet. And if your timeline’s been feeling extra unhinged lately? That’s because this year, it’s not just about looks, it’s about Blackness, capitalism, accountability, taste, clout, power, and whether celebrity culture even has a place while everything else is literally on fire.

And guess what? The gowns haven’t even touched the carpet yet and we’re already deep in the discourse.

Honestly? Blame Heavenly Bodies (2018). That’s when the Met went from fashion insider holy day to full-on pop culture sport. It’s also when I started doing live reactions on IG, thinking it was cute and harmless, until stylists started DM’ing me and K-pop stans tried to eat me alive. But since COVID? Since Gaza? Since the general global vibe collapse? The Met’s become a fishbowl where everyone’s watching and half the viewers still think the IRS is footing the bill for Kim Kardashian’s entree.

But this year hits different. It’s not just vibes, it’s voltage. The theme, “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style, aka a celebration of Black fashion and finesse is happening in a country where DEI is being dragged, and “diversity” is suddenly a curse word. And we’re supposed to talk about a fashion party with nuance? Lol, okay.

Anyway, the discourse is already unhinged, so here’s your cheat sheet for the pre-Met mess and why the internet can’t stop turning fashion into a battlefield.

The Wisdom Snub

Let’s get straight to the point: where is Wisdom Kaye?

Like, actually, where is he? The man is the theme. TikTok’s best-dressed ( literally Vogue called him the best dressed guy on the app). The tailoring king. He’s walked for Balmain, worked with Dior, made blazers look like blessings. And yet? No invite.

Not from Vogue. Not from the Costume Institute. Not from a single luxury house pretending to care about Black style. The silence is LOUD. And His fans are right to be mad.

Here’s the thing: this wasn’t about exclusion because he was “too much.” It’s worse than that. It’s that the people making the decisions don’t even know enough to include him. They’re not tapped in. They’re not watching. They’re not in the group chat.

Wisdom’s absence isn’t proof that the system is scared of new voices, it’s proof that the people behind the system aren’t even listening for them. They’re still booking off vibes from 2016. They don’t know who’s actually shaping taste right now because they’re too busy recycling the same 20 names who’ve already been vouched for, speaking of Emma Chamberlain is back for the 5th year hosting the red carpet interviews for Vogue.

Meanwhile, people like Wisdom, who’ve been pushing the conversation forward, who are the cultural moment, get left off the list the one year where their prescence would mean the most.

It’s not about taste. It’s about access. And a whole lot of people with power clearly aren’t even on the right apps.

Kai Cenat Said No, and That Says a Lot

Kai Cenat actually got the Met Gala invite and he turned it down. Not because he wasn’t free, but because he didn’t like the brand that wanted to dress him. That alone sets him apart. Most influencers bend over backwards for the chance to orbit Vogue. Kai didn’t. Very interesting development in the world of institutional relevance.

Then came the follow-up: Pharrell, this year’s Met Gala co-chair, invited him to an afterparty and floated the idea of streaming from the event. Kai was confused. He said he doesn’t stream that late. But the subtext was louder…why does this feel like a setup?

Because it is. Fashion still doesn’t know how to handle internet-native Black stars unless they’re boxed up and branded. This wasn’t about inviting Kai as himself. It was about using him to bridge a culture gap they don’t know how to actually cross. I will say it does annoy me that he turned down an invite while Wisdom didn’t even get one but I do enjoy an open rebellion against the status quo. But STILL!!!

The Black Style Civil War: North vs. South Edition

Meanwhile, a way subtler but equally spicy discourse is simmering, yes, we’re talking regional Black style.

Up North you’ve got sharp lines, tailored silhouettes, a clean flex. Think Harlem, Philly, D.C. Down South? Maximalism. Color. Bedazzling. Texture. It’s giving soul. Both are iconic. Both are legit. But only one gets the “tasteful” tag. The other gets labeled “doing too much.”

This week, someone on X said the South doesn’t create streetwear trends, just amplifies them. Insert Shelby Ivey Christie, fashion historian, who came through with a digital heel stomp. She reminded everyone that Jordan culture, aka one of the biggest fashion movements ever, was built on Black Southern flavor. And that Black dandyism? Literally born in the South, forged by formerly enslaved people who used style as resistance.

So why does the South keep getting cropped out of the picture?

Because fashion still can’t handle more than one version of Blackness. It picks a “respectable” aesthetic, elevates that, and quietly side-eyes the rest.

Diddy and the Delusion Olympics

Now let’s get into the mess: Diddy.

He’s not at the Met this year. Because… well, reasons (read: lawsuits, raids, and everything in between). Yet the timeline’s acting like now is the time to have the discussion about his cultural impact. Like he’s a misunderstood genius instead of someone facing very serious allegations. There are “separate the art from the artist” think pieces happening today. As if this is about art. As if there aren’t literal victims.

Yes, Diddy changed the game. Yes, Sean John mattered. He made luxury Black, crashed hip-hop into the front row, and didn’t beg for a seat. But he’s not being “canceled.” He’s not the underdog. He’s not owed a plus-one. He is facing consequences. That’s different. That’s necessary. And even if the consequences of his actions are the erasure of his legacy so be be it. And yet some people would rather cosplay as historians than admit their fave might be a whole villain.

We don’t need a Diddy redemption arc. We don’t need to have a conversation about “separate the art from the artist”. We need everyone to sit this one out and re-evaluate.

Jack Schlossberg’s Flop Era

Finally, in this week’s “wait, who asked you?” segment: Jack Schlossberg.

He hopped on Instagram and called for a Met Gala boycott because, in his words, it’s “tone-deaf.” Okay, sure. The world’s on fire. But this is the year the Met is about Black history, Black craftsmanship, and Black legacy… and the Kennedy heir wants us to skip it?

Sir, be so serious. Read the room. Then leave it.

Boycotting the Met now is not some noble stand, it’s just a lukewarm take with too much privilege and zero flavor. You want to critique the system? Great. But not when it’s finally spotlighting a group the system usually ignores. That’s not activism. That’s aesthetic guilt.

The truth? We need the Met this year. Not for the red carpet. Not for the spectacle. But because claiming joy, beauty, and excellence, especially Black excellence, is resistance. It’s not frivolous. It’s necessary.

So no, we’re not canceling the Met. We’re showing up. We’re making noise. We’re stealing focus.

And we’re doing it in couture.

Anyway, the Met Gala’s in a few hours I’m in multiple group chats with double digit notifications. Timelines are split between fashion history threads, brand ID guesses, and people STILL arguing about the South’s fashion contributions. Someone is tired of André Leon Talley cosplay. Someone else said “DEI is dead” for the sixth time today. It’s fashion’s most unserious serious night, and I’ll be watching with my snacks, Wi-Fi, 14 tabs open into the wee wee hours of the night because I’m on Europe time. Happy Met Gala yall!!!! Let’s GOOOO!!