Celebrities turn up in outrageous outfits at the Met Gala 2026, with looks resembling bathroom fixtures and hotel curtains, sparking online mockery.
EVERY year, the Met Gala arrives with one mission: to convince ordinary people that looking absolutely ridiculous is actually high art.
And every year, celebrities rise to the challenge like overconfident theatre kids with unlimited budgets.
The Met Gala 2026 did not disappoint – or perhaps it disappointed so aggressively that it became entertaining.
This year’s theme, “Fashion is Art”, basically gave celebrities permission to show up dressed like unfinished museum exhibits – and they took that permission very seriously.
We saw giant sculptural gowns, metallic face masks, crystal-covered costumes, outfits featuring cages, feathers and armour, and enough fabric to reupholster an entire hotel lobby.
At one point, I genuinely stopped asking, “What are they wearing?” and started asking, “What household object inspired this?”
Because some of these looks did not scream fashion; they screamed luxury curtain set, haunted lampshade, emotionally exhausted sofa or “bathroom renovation but make it couture”.
And yes, somewhere on that carpet, the internet collectively decided somebody looked like an actual bathroom – not bathroom-inspired but a bathroom: sink energy, tiles, plumbing and everything.
Which honestly feels very fitting, considering one of the Met Gala’s most iconic traditions is no longer the red carpet but the famous celebrity bathroom selfies.
Forget the staircase. Forget the photographers.
Every year, the real event eventually shifts into a luxury toilet somewhere inside the venue, where celebrities squeeze together for chaotic mirror selfies like exhausted clubgoers at 2am.
At this point, the Met Gala bathroom has become more culturally significant than some award shows.
And honestly, it makes sense. After carrying around 52lbs of crystals, six metres of fabric and what appears to be an entire chandelier attached to your shoulders, where else are you supposed to regroup?
I understand the Met Gala is supposed to be theatrical – it is fashion’s biggest night. Nobody expects people to turn up in jeans and Uniqlo basics. But there is a fine line between “avant-garde” and “you accidentally got dressed inside a hardware store”. And this year, that line was gone – completely erased.
Take Kim Kardashian, who appeared in a sculptural, orange, body-cast ensemble that looked less like a gown and more like somebody spray-painted a mannequin and said, “Yes, art.”
Then there was Sam Smith, whose crystal-covered outfit reportedly weighed 24kg – twenty-four kilogrammes. That is not fashion anymore; it is resistance training. Imagine sweating under 255,000 crystals while pretending you are comfortable for photographers.
Meanwhile, I get irritated carrying one slightly heavy handbag at a wedding. Honestly, some celebrities deserve awards not just for their style but also for their core strength.
Even Olivia Wilde turned up in a look criticised online for having a strange cage detail – a cage.
See, this is what the Met Gala has become. Every year, rich and famous people gather in New York and ask themselves: “How can I make sitting down physically impossible?” Mission accomplished.
Because tell me honestly, how are these people surviving the night? Forget elegance; I want logistics.
Who helps them eat? Can they inhale oxygen normally? Can they go to the toilet without requiring architectural support staff? These are the real questions.
Meanwhile, here in Malaysia, we are living in an entirely different fashion reality. Our outfits need to function. A proper Malaysian outfit must survive humidity, sudden rain, buffet queues, plastic chairs, family photos and an aunty aggressively asking why you are still single or why you are not pregnant. That is pressure.
You think Malaysians care about “postmodern silhouettes”? We care whether the material traps heat and turns us into steamed pau after 15 minutes outdoors. Our idea of innovation is hidden pockets. That deserves its own red carpet.
And honestly, imagine bringing Met Gala fashion to an Indian wedding or family function. Imagine arriving dressed like one of these celebrities.
Immediately, some Indian aunty will stare at you over her chai and ask: “Why is your dress like a bathroom curtain?” “Everything okay at home?”
Then somebody’s uncle will whisper: “Why is she dressed like an Astro decoder?”
And if you accidentally knock into the food table with one of those giant sculptural sleeves? Gone. One entire tray of vadai wiped out because somebody wanted to look “editorial”.
Perhaps the funniest thing about the Met Gala is how seriously everybody takes it. Fashion critics will stare at what looks like a haunted duvet cover and say things like: “This challenges society’s perception of the human form.”
No, it challenges my eyesight.
Meanwhile, social media users are infinitely more honest. The internet saw these outfits and immediately went: “He looks like hotel curtains.”
“She is dressed like expired ketupat” and “Why does this look like bathroom tiles from a luxury condo?” Honestly, the people are correct. Because beneath all the glitter and dramatic posing, most ordinary people still want the same thing from clothes: Comfort.
We want outfits that let us sit down properly, eat comfortably, walk without needing a support team and survive a washing machine cycle. That is real luxury now – not diamonds, not feathers and not wearing something that resembles abstract plumbin – just comfort and dignity.
So yes, every year we will continue watching the Met Gala like it is an international competition for fashionable nonsense.
We zoom in, we judge quietly and we forward screenshots like certified fashion critics of WhatsApp University.
“Eh, please explain this”, we ask as if there is any explanation that doesn’t end with “it’s haute couture”. Because at this point, the Met Gala is no longer about fashion; it is about endurance. Who can survive the night looking like a luxury renovation project and still pretend they are comfortable?
And the real verdict does not come from Vogue, it comes from a Malaysian aunty sipping kopi saying: “Ini orang pakai apa ni… macam shower curtain hotel bajet.”
One look. One sip. Then the final judgement: “Kalau masuk rumah aku, aku ingat dia nak tukar tile dapur.”
And that is it. When aunties start reviewing couture like home renovation disasters… you know fashion has officially gone too far.
Hashini Kavishtri Kannan is the assistant news editor at theSun. Comments: letters@thesundaily.com
