Darling, darling

I missed seeing any live coverage of the Met "Gala" this year because I have no interest in it whatsoever.  I ignored the whole thing, even though the theme of this year's "Let's See How Weird We Can Look" shindig was "Fashion is Art."

Art who? Art Fleming, original host of "Jeopardy"? Art Donovan, beloved Baltimore Colt from 1953 -1962? Art VanDeLay, millionaire industrialist from "Seinfeld"? Garfunkel, Carney, Linkletter? The list goes on.

I feel that by saying fashion is art, one is also saying, "we're special because we put on these outrageous get-ups and prance around the steps of a museum." There's an art to knowing how to dress, I grant you. My summer uniform of polo shirt and cargo shorts is functional, and since the pants and the shirts are in different piles in my closet, it's only by pure chance that the colors match, if they do. Wintertime, I'll be in blue jeans, with a long-sleeved tee or sweatshirt covered by a short-sleeved tee shirt.

That's my fashion, and I am comfortable with it. 

But I have to throw a penalty flag at Sheinelle Jones on the TODAY show. The day after that big blowout, she showed a video of herself talking to some fashion icon on those fabled steps, and the important person she spoke with had some sort of equipment failure...a broken strap, some loose sequins, something popped out that should not have, I dunno.

But Sheinelle said, "Oh, the stars! They're just like us!"

It is TOO Heidi Klum!

No, they are not. We are home doing things, reading books, helping children or friends, calling sick friends, volunteering at food banks, baking bread, building models, playing online Parcheesi, doing one of a thousand and one things. We're not traipsing around in bizarre garmentry while people tell us how fabulous we are. "Fabulous" comes to us from the word "fable," meaning "made-up stories."

We keep it real real here in the real world. That's fabulous, darling.