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| If you think it's difficult deciding what to wear to a normal party, try finding just the right outfit for a Lady Gaga party in New York. Picture: Noel Kessel |
WHEN invited to a party by Lady Gaga, a little wardrobe planning is in order.
At her Sydney concert Lady Gaga played to grannies, six-year-olds, budding freaks from the suburbs, couples gay and straight … in other words, everybody.
Yet seeing her enter as a motorbike humanoid sex toy was the kind of shenanigans I once experienced back in the day, waaay past midnight at Save the Robots in downtown New York, before Mayor Rudy Guiliani’s clean-up. To me, the most outrageous thing about Gaga's Sydney concert was the fact that we were in seeing her Sturm und Drang in a suburban stadium.
Of course, you only have to see Gaga sing live at a piano or tantalise her Little Monsters in the fan pit to know she is something special - and what it took her to crank the fame level up from nutty Manhattan nightclub crawler to global superstar.
In her hometown of New York, weird is good. In my salad days as a club kid at the Tunnel or Disco Interruptus, it was positively de rigueur. Drag queens covered in fake blood; Marie-Antoinette with tyre marks; bad taste; and vintage, vintage, vintage.
After years of re-adapting to civilian life in Australia as a mother and quasi-responsible member of society (my teenage son has banned me from embarrassing school pick ups: "No more purple Serial Killer T-shirts, or big earrings"), I am now clutching an invitation that is a call to arms: throw off the shackles of convention and go crazy once more.
Lady Gaga is launching her new perfume at New York's Guggenheim Museum, and by God she wants you to bring it.
Men: black tie. Women: crown, tiara or lobster - which I take as code for "don’t even think about copping out with an empire-line black dress".
It doesn’t take long to realise that live she’s a dominatrix with a sweet streak. Her Sydney audience did her bidding en masse as she saucily commanded: "Sit up, sit down, put your cameras down. You’re mine tonight!"
So, naturally, she’ll want to play Fellini and art-direct the crowd at her own party. She charmed fragrance giant Coty into creating a black perfume, and naturally the Guggenheim will look like Night of The Living Dead while she’s hosting it.
Fabulous. So where to start? My top-three crib sheet …
1. Something unstable
Lady Gaga has planted a flag for effortful intentionality that is downright fetishistic in its debilitating effect. This is way beyond Victoria Beckham’s Louboutins-at-kindy-drop-off. In heelless shoes, you actually need your bodyguards to carry you: now that’s starry. The La Prairie launch at David Jones featured a dancer walking around in her own sphere, rapidly depleting her oxygen supply … but how to pack it?
2. Something disturbing
Being titillating is not enough to inspire a whole generation of Little Monsters out of their comfort zones. A meat dress isn’t just new, it’s slightly repellent. Even Cher complained that it smelt rather off downstage. Perhaps I can pop over to the nearest fish markets on the day and drape myself in some kingfish ceviche?
3. Something on-theme
I loved how Lady Gaga appeared on The Graham Norton Show wearing a full-tilt "Renaissance on acid" Madonna - that’s Mother of God, thank you - by a suitably mad young Irish designer. In the spirit of wholehearted homage, not mockery, Catholic iconography seemed apropos for a chat with a very Irish host. Ditto rubber fetish Elizabethan wear for meeting her descendent, ER II. Genius. If only I could afford to poke my head through an early Picasso at the Guggenheim or slosh around in a tank full of Coty’s Fame.
The challenge is on - watch this space. Whatever it is, my son will be very glad he’s in the other hemisphere.
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