Costume Institute Gala Brings Out the Stars

The Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute had its yearly gala last night. Does everyone go inside and have a somber moment in front of a display of Marie Antoinette's wigs, or do they step right up to the bar to recover from all the posing they had to do on the way in?

"Darling?"

"Yes, love."

"I need a chiropractor, I can't seem to keep my pelvis from thrusting forward suggestively."

"It's a smashing pose, though. Who's my little chipmunk?! Who wants a lovely hazelnut from my pocket?!"

"David, NOT HERE!!!"

"I cling to you, you know. You're my rock. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Let's form a suicide pact so we can be buried together."

"In a glass coffin."

"Holding hands."

"Sweet."

"I want a divorce, you fucking nut job."

"What, didn't you have fun shopping with Suri today? You spent $20,000 on toddler shoes."

"Oh, you're right. Never mind."

"I'm Anna Wintour and you have no idea how much I miss Star Trek."

"Gisele, that dress, it's like you wrapped a couple of Ace bandages around your chest."

"It's sexy, Tom, right?"

"I feel like I should call an aid worker and hook you up to a nutrient I.V."

"We can play doctor when we get back to my place!"

"I'm stopping the first waiter I see and feeding you, like, seventeen mini quiches."

"What the hell, Thandie, are you the only black woman at this event?"

"No, Jimmy, I think I saw a mannequin wearing one of Jessye Norman's old costumes on display."

"I'm sorry about your tanning accident, Mr. Armani."

"It's alright, Julia, I'll have it all dermabraded off by lunchtime tomorrow."

"I have never felt more alive! I HAVE NEVER LOOKED MORE LIKE KLAUS KINSKI!"

"Oh, thank God! I found the only other person here who looks as insane as I do."

photos