Local Flavor: New York

It was the Thursday before the Alexander McQueen Savage Beauty exhibit closed at The Met, and I’m not one to procrastinate, but I had taken my time to see this exhibit. I knew there would be a wait, and a long one at that, but I had filled my purse with magazines and crossword puzzles to keep me occupied in the line. I approached the ticket counter, “One adult please!” The man at the ticket counter looked at me for a moment before saying, “You’re not here to see the McQueen exhibit…are you?”

“Yes, yes of course I am.”

“It’s closed. For now.”

So many people had come to see the exhibit, and the line was so long, it had been deemed a fire hazard. No one else would be allowed in until the crowd waiting to see the show subsided. No one knew how long that would be. I went ahead and bought the ticket, I was in this one for the long haul.

The ticket counter man said I would be waiting about 2.5 hours when the exhibit reopened to see it, and he suggested I enjoy what else the museum had to offer in the meantime. I chose, instead, to stake out the entrance to the exhibit that was currently roped off and guarded by an exhausted member of the museum staff. She kept politely explaining the situation to museum visitors. Museum visitors, on the other hand, were less polite, “How can you not know when the exhibit is going to reopen? How can this be so disorganized? This is unbelievable, aren’t you THE MET?”

I don’t think anyone – The Met, Anna Wintour, Alexander McQueen himself, could have anticipated that 650,000 people would come and view this exhibit in the 3 months it was live.

I waited 45 minutes by the entrance before the rope was removed and we were allowed to  file into the never-ending line wrapping around the corridors. I was only an hour into the wait when I heard a security guard say, “You’re about 10 minutes away.” I was planning on waiting another hour and half! These words were like music.

The exhibit was enormous. Each room housed a different collection with a different theme about romance: The Romantic Mind, Gothic, Exoticism, Primitivism and so on. The first room eases you into the mind of McQueen with, and I say this relative to his work, simple pieces. Beautifully constructed garments that are clean, architectural, stern and dramatic. After that room the darkness creeps in, the Gothic, the Victorian, the creatures you would not want to run into walking alone at night.  The mannequins all wore some form of mask, which gave them life. There were no eyes, face, or movement, but those masks made the experience feel very alive and real, and very unsettling.

There’s an immediate emotional response when viewing McQueen’s work. The level of drama and emotion is like watching an epic film, only no dialogue is necessary. The garments speak for themselves. Latex, leather, feather, tulle, and silk are not quiet materials.

What surprised me the most about this exhibit wasn’t anything pertaining to Alexander McQueen’s work but rather the people who came to see it. It’s safe to say Alexander McQueen isn’t the Norman Rockwell of the fashion world. His vision is one that I would not have imagined would translate to the mainstream the way it seemingly did, as demonstrated by the turn out for this exhibit. I heard children responding the work because it reminded them of zombies and vampires. Older gentlemen dragged along by their wives had words to say about his signature Armadillo Shoes. Everyday America in our t-shirts, jeans, and sneakers were finding ways to connect with McQueen’s dark, troubled, and beautiful creations.

After I left the exhibit I immediately walked into the Frank Stella show in the next gallery. I needed something simple and geometric to focus on to tame the overwhelming feelings and inspiration that had taken over my mind. Waiting an hour was nothing to see this exhibit; I would wait all day for the opportunity to experience it again.