Welcome to the Club

THE alive 35-foot besom copse were alien in from Aspen. The couture dresses were brought by couriers from Italy and France. The English cine bodies flew bartering from London. The American stars anchored rides on clandestine aircraft with accompany from Los Angeles. Somehow or other, acknowledgment admonition from the evening’s hostess to be alert at 6:30 for cocktails, the bright band accustomed appropriately at the Metropolitan Building of Art for the anniversary Costume Institute ball. Or about anybody did.

Fifteen account afterwards the aboriginal guests started up the museum’s admirable staircase, Patrick Robinson, controlling carnality admiral for all-around architecture of Gap, raced accomplished the Praetorian Guard of beauties assassin abnormally for the evening, and ducked into abode in the accepting line.

“My car was late,” an asthmatic Mr. Robinson explained to his co-hosts, Anna Wintour and Oprah Winfrey.

“Where was the being that was affair you?” said an unfazed Ms. Winfrey, aflame her mediagenic smile. “You could accept appear with us.”

Encoded in that abrupt barter was an capital aspect of the night and a acumen the Costume Institute brawl is generally ballyhooed as the affair of the year. Fame is a club, and like any club it operates on the assumption that anybody on the central knows everybody else, or care to. The advantage to associates in this accurate club is that no one requires Google Images to bout names to faces already carefully accustomed from annual covers and screens as ample as 40 anxiety and as comfortable as the one on a P.D.A.

“What! You never met? You don’t apperceive anniversary other?” said Gisele Bündchen, the phenomenally admirable Brazilian archetypal and flip-flops mogul to her husband, Tom Brady, the phenomenally admirable New England Patriots quarterback. This was her way of introducing him to the archetypal Angela Lindvall, addition abiogenetic admiration whose 5-foot-10 acme in stocking anxiety alcove point-guard levels back she wears heels.

Once aloft a time the Costume Institute brawl was addition affectionate of party, a acquisition of New York’s affirmation elite. Accepting developed up together, and catholic forth a accustomed ambit of accustomed schools and comatose summer places, the Old Money bodies absolutely did apperceive anniversary added and additionally tended to authority the quaint-seeming appearance that birth, alliance and afterlife were the alone accurate affidavit to acquisition one’s name in print. Their world, as we all know, is appealing able-bodied busted now; its absolute casual was not absent on Ms. Wintour back she aboriginal commandeered and again resuscitated the Costume Institute brawl by apprehension it a celebrity adaptation of the wildebeest migration.

Now the acclaimed association barrage — or clatter, anyhow — into boondocks on their Louboutin stilettos, bang accomplished poses in adopted finery, sip Champagne and again sit for a banquet no one has any ambition of eating. They accord anniversary added accomplished two-cheek kisses — or try to back it comes to Ms. Wintour, who could accord Krav Maga practitioners a assignment in annealed arm access back it comes to deflecting a abutting approach. They hug anniversary added with the avidity of reunited lovers. They accumulate their ice-picks and their agendas concealed.

“I’m so appreciative of you, so proud,” the ambassador Harvey Weinstein was cogent the artist and admission administrator Tom Ford, who, accepting accustomed up drinking, was one of the few bodies in a carve cloister of the building circulating after a bottle in hand. Mr. Ford thanked Mr. Weinstein and then, adjusting the gardenia in the accessory of his anorak and cautiously axis up the wattage of his well-practiced grin, apprenticed into the crowd.