Savage Queue-ty

Yesterday a friend and I arrived at the Met to see the Alexander McQueen exhibit Savage Beauty only to be told that the queue for entry can be upwards of an hour.  My love for all things McQueen would have left me un-phased was it not for the infant in tow.  (Yes, I deigned to bring my 11 month old to a jam-packed exhibit full of dark rooms and eery music featuring leather garments with overtly S&M bondage detail.  Dear Future Psychologist, I apologize in advance.)  Luckily it was a random Wednesday at 11:30am and, while greeted with a series of signs indicating wait-time from different points, we breezed right in.  Once inside (along with considerably more patrons) we discovered justification for the usually horrendous lines.  The Met was transformed into a very un-Met-like space:  dark and raw and mysterious, an environment that perfectly showcased McQueen's romance-meets-horror vibe.   To get up close to the pieces was a physical thrill.  The technical perfection boggled my mind and we spent the rest of the day debating how he did pretty much everything.  His work is unnerving and inspirational and magnificent.  It's the kind of show that makes you dash home to whip out your sewing machine (yes, mine is out).  It makes you want to take risks with fashion and life in general, which brings me to the words of Alexander McQueen, “You’ve got to know the rules to break them. That’s what I’m here for, to demolish the rules but to keep the tradition.”  P.S. future psychologist:  See the aforementioned quote.