Simply stunning; the hue of the wood suggests an agedness as though it were centuries old; rather than the expectant lustre of bright gold, the subdued golden hue alludes to the agedness of the British monarchy which is in its second millennium. So then, the beauty of this portrait, the frame; now to everything else.
This photograph deftly betrays both princes’ true posture. Harry a fifth level mature warrior – same soul age and soul type as Catherine, HRH Duchess of Cambridge – is always going to be proud in stature and not given to slouching. William a sixth mature scholar soul and task companion of his wife, Catherine, slouches, partly for towering over most persons at 6.3 feet tall. However, William has hyper-extended knees and as such, his body naturally counterbalances that stance by bearing his head and chest forward and in a concave manner rather than not. Though evocative of regal portraits from times past, in Jamie Coreth’s painting, that posture simply is not innate to HRH Prince William, Duke of Cambridge.
Admiral Viscount Horatio Nelson, Alexander Hamilton, 1st Duke of Wellington, HM King Charles I, HM King George III, HM King George IV, Napoleon Bonaparte & SM Roi Louis XIV.
All these portraits depict the historic figures standing, weight on one leg with the other leg’s foot forward and turned out. It is a commanding position. Of all historical portraits HM King Charles I’s is my favourite, partly because his death was so comically tragic. More than that, Charles I’s swagger and pride remains unparalleled. I am also partial simply because those magical eyes and goatee of HM King Charles I’s are not dissimilar to Merlin, my task companion’s, look during his most recent past life.
Prince William is made to affect this posture; however, it is obviously foreign to his persona. He has a goal of acceptance which is the great goal and such people are always warm and open; however, with a second number of 9, mindset, he is anything but warm. He has unequivocally demonstrated that he is archly bigoted and a rude dismissive snob. To make matters worse, his wife, who happens to be his task companion, also has 9 but in the first/energy body position. Both persons have primary chief features of stubbornness and secondary of arrogance. Stubbornness would most definitely mitigate his being open to anyone when he was born and groomed to be the ultimate snob. Furthermore, persons with a primary chief feature of stubbornness are persistently shit-disturbing, obstreperous and infuriatingly difficult.
Catherine’s resting face as ever is no oil painting. Catherine is possessed of an energy body of 9 and such persons, especially so when born female, are toxic in the extreme. They are also bitingly sarcastic, difficult and unrelentingly unpleasant socially. As a mature warrior soul in perseverance mode with a chief feature of stubbornness, you could not find a bigger shit-disturber and conceited bully. Couple all that with having to be wedded to an equally difficult mature soul and both equally insecure, Meghan, self-made and vastly more intelligent and articulate plus unacceptably of Black blood, did not stand a chance with these two.
This masterful oil on canvas, Paul Emsley, which permanently hangs at the National Portrait Gallery, perfectly captures the essence of who Catherine is; it is full of nuance and dark undercurrents, which readily betray the complexity of spirit that she and every mature soul know during the course of each lifetime. One of the lessons of the mature soul cycle, is having to learn pretty tough life lessons for being spiritually stagnant. The accompanying photograph, taken whilst on royal tour in the Bahamas, March 2022, captures the woman’s true nature. In the case of Catherine, and William, they have been gifted with Prince Louis. As everything is choice; they could have chosen not to have a third child and a third child could have been born to them without obvious mental/emotional issues if during gestation, Catherine was not engaged in such racially toxic behaviour towards the Sussexes. It does the Cambridges no favours that everyone in the kingdom has painted the drama surrounding the Sussexes as though it were completely one-sided and that the Cambridges were not at the very heart of the rift; regardless, how this is all made to seem a one-sided affair, it does still take two hands to clap. Not only is the Cambridges’ conceit encouraged but their glaring stupidity has been exposed, regardless how the British media and society blindly choose to act as though the Cambridges are in no way culpable for or play any part in the affair, at its heart centre this whole mess is all about racism. Since it is too damaging for the Cambridges, just let the Sussexes fuck off and stay gone as this is the only only way to save, in due course, the Cambridges’ reign.
No matter how much these two row in public, which is increasingly ubiquitous, British media simply pretend as though it does not exist. In point of fact, the Sussexes have largely been used as a smokescreen to deflect attention off the Cambridges’ very turbulent marriage. No matter what, at least for now, the Cambridges cannot be seen as anything other than a loving couple, adored throughout the kingdom.
This whole affair has brought to sharp focus how the White tribe simply fabricate reality as they would have it. These past few weeks of watching CNN’s coverage of the January 6th commission hearings on Capitol Hill, the Trumpian perspective is a poignant exposé into the White tribe’s collective psyche. One boldly tells a lie and for repeating it loudly and long enough, it becomes fact. Thriving almost exclusively on negativity, that vile liar, President Trump, was been able to incite an insurrection and for merely being a moneyed White male, he has not only been believed but he has commanded fierce, blindly unwavering loyalty. Though he is as guilty as sin, the Democrats are utterly paralysed with fear to arrest, charge, prosecute and imprison a President who for the first time in over 250 years attempted a coup d’état. Trump epitomises the White tribe’s zeitgeist: at all costs, we win, we are always right and no one gets to be perceived as being better than us; more importantly, we can never be perceived as either being wrong or having failed.
What I love about this masterful portrait, is how cleverly the artist makes a reference to King Juan Carlos, the Bourbon King of Spain, as the nose is decidedly neither the Spencer nor the Windsor nose. As the saying goes, when you know, you know.
This succinct painting is of a gormless-looking Prince William by Welsh artist, Dan Llywelyn Hall, in which the painter masterfully captures the essence of William’s persona. William is neither the swiftest of souls nor the most emotionally august. From his open ridicule of Black culture at the Sussexes’ wedding to sanctioning the recent seating arrangement at St. Paul’s Cathedral during HM The Queen’s platinum jubilee, neither he nor his wife can claim ignorance of racism within the royal family. They are at the very heart of the racist campaign against the Sussexes; nevertheless, within the kingdom and beyond its shores, the golden royal couple are universally deemed a paragon of superior, racially pure virtuousness in a land where the royal propaganda is not dissimilar to the blinding sycophancy afforded North Korean leaders.
In the couple’s 40th birthday portrait, they are seen to be closing ranks, as well they have. More importantly, they are neither looking at each other nor are they smiling as they are deeds done between them and against the Sussexes, for which they would rather remain mum. The Cambridges or for that matter their propagandists do not have the ability to whitewash the truth neither indefinitely nor beyond their kingdom’s shores. True love as alluded in the recent photographic portrait of the Cambridges does not bear tarnished fruit as is obvious with their third-born, Prince Damien. There is a direct result between the Sussexes’ treatment as a consequence of the Cambridges’ machinations and Prince Louis being the damaged goods that he is.
Charles Mingus / Bass
Eric Dolphy / Alto Saxophone, Bass Clarinet
Dannie Richmond / Drums
Jaki Byard / Piano
Johnny Coles / Trumpet
Clifford Jordan / Tenor Saxophone
As ever, life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!
Here we have an artisan soul, bringing the light and fabulousness. There is likely a good dash of priest soul energy somewhere in his casting. I was delighted to have discovered this rare beauteous soul. Definitely, he gets my vote for best-dressed male at Met Gala, 2022 – number one of ten.
The executive looks especially refined in a white halter, topped with clipped, ruffled floor-length skirt by Azzedine Alaia.
August, inordinately handsome couple of notable heritage.
Kaia looks and seems like a warrior soul – mature soul cycle possibly.
Understated and dignified. Madam First Lady’s jewel-toned gown is elegant and unfussy.
Ms. Lee’s gown is perfect; her legs are revealed yet partially concealed and without a slit, there is no chance of her feet being photographed sickled in.
This is a very beautiful dress; very elegant and tastefully executed. The dress must make the most beautiful music as she glides along. Wonderful.
Camila’s matte gold sheath is a complex design. What is especially winning is the pair of flesh-toned gloves.
Like Precious Lee, Chloe Bailey has thick thighs; however, Precious was styled to perfection. Nothing about her look aesthetically misses the mark.
From the highs of being Bridgerton’s heartthrob to disappearing into the oblivion of TV car commercials.
90s American model, looking effortlessly chic in golden vintage Azzaro.
Smartly attired rapper; I love the lapel detailing. With legs on show, it would have been more appropriate to have worn a kilt or male skirt.
No idea of this artist’s range. I do, though, know that his attire is by no stretch of the gilded age.
Formerly of NASA, the dashing renaissance man also has impeccable tastes. Definitely one of the top 3 best-dressed men at the Met Gala, 2022. Without doubt, he has my vote as the third best-dressed.
Naomi Campbell remains the most dominant, dignified supermodel. The ingenuity of the Burberry logo incorporated into the gown works beautifully.
Bella’s bejewelled left ankle seems as though a foot still planted in the gilded age. The lace and leather bustier are a modern interpretation on the gilded age.
In her on-air interview with La La Anthony, who along with Vanessa Hudgens and Hamish Bowles hosted Vogue’s streaming red carpet arrivals, this performer proved embarrassingly unaware among other things.
As with Naomi’s gown, Lila’s sheer gown is also bejewelled with Burberry’s horse logo.
Supermodel mum, Kate with daughter Lila whose modelling has successfully launched.
The other Queen to be dressed by Burberry, Wagon’s still got it as the song proclaims and as is plainly obvious. Stunning.
I don’t know about the gilded age but if you are going to be bound and stuffed into a gilded cage, your every fantasy would be realised on having leather-clad Irina Shayk predatorily stride in, famished and ready to have her way with you…
Looking like a bearded reanimation of Frida Kahlo, as my musical tastes do not stray beyond Jazz and classical, I have no idea the state of his music.
Coming on strong is young Mr. Jacob Elodi; he is central casting’s bid to cash in on the millions of screaming little Beliebers as they grew away for the Canadian pop star. Tall, dark and handsome.
Conventionally, he is the best dressed; however, he comes in number two, as Frederik Robertsson visionary presentation/performance was unsurpassed. Everything about Stormzy and his debonair style has winner written all over. White on white on white complements his beautiful complexion.
The hair swept up, elongating the neck, the jewellery, the clutch, the appropriately placed roses and that lovely smile. Indeed, the lady graciously captures the gilded age.
The lovely Tessa Thompson is a vision of soft cherry blossom pinks in a delightful ode to the gilded age. Incidentally, as pitting women against each other is one of the many insidious ways that sexism thrives within the culture, unlike the men, I will elect not to declare a best dressed female.
The gold touches and opera glasses are winning odes to the gilded age… to be sure.
Feathery wisps below the knees, though evocative of the Jazz age, we will nonetheless take it. Beautiful colour combination.
Light, airy, delicate and a modern ode to the gilded age wonderfully executed.
Dame Anna Wintour, November 3, 1949, year of the Ox. 3.5.1 = 9. When you take into account Dame Wintour’s pedigree, an earl and duchess among them, here is someone who has used their numbers not only masterfully but in their most positive expression. 9 in the fourth position is that of the gatekeeper – her aristocratic heritage affords her a confidence that would escape a self-made individual. No one else, save Dame Wintour could have masterfully run Vogue, held it together and been in such an esteemed position of power and for so long save Dame Wintour. 3 in the first position; she thinks before opening her mouth and her word carries much weight; 3 governs the world of intellect, books, publishing and refinement of expression. She is of hybrid heritage as suggested by her mindset, 5, thereby allowing her to be more open to the ‘other’ than say someone who was not of multicultural heritage. Lifepath of 1 simply means that she was born to lead and has staying power of Wellingtonian scope much as the 1st Duke of Wellington. This is a human who is living a life in full and with the greatest mastery of their numbers rather than being ruled by those numbers and thereby expressing the negative manifestations of those numbers. Anyone else wearing a tiara to the Met Gala would be readily dismissed as pretentious, not so Dame Wintour. As ever, her ensemble is understated and elegant.
Sleek, understated as a Chanel man of worth would be.
Always funny and always keeping it real and casually of the gilded age.
A quartet of cool ladies’ interpretation of the gilded age with the help of the house of Chloe.
Like Caroline Trentini, Venus Williams is pitch perfect. Tall, long lean lines; she is perfectly elegant, understated, confident.
Look at that statuesque lady. This Sudanese goddess is in a rarefied class all by herself. She does for that Christian Lacroix dress what no one else could. Stunning!
Ravishing, Alexa is at all times über raffinée. Those shoes are everything.
Normani ought to have worn lacquered, fire-engine red lipstick to set off the outfit; it would make her complexion pop against the monochromatic ensemble.
It’s been a minute since we’ve seen Caroline but she has served up a winning point with this rich maya blue cape.
Sarah Jessica Parker
Sarah’s look proved both historic and as such an homage to the trailblazing work and life of Elizabeth Hobbs Ketchley, whose life did straddle the gilded age. She was a slave who transitioned to working at the White House where she served as a dressmaker to Madam First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln, wife of President Abraham Lincoln.
Without doubt, I must acquire this book.
Perhaps, this is how the Harkonnens dressed during the latest gilded age on Giedi Prime in the year 10, 125.
As a large-bodied professional model, Paloma has thorough awareness of the aesthetics of looking good on camera. The bustier gives a flattering presentation of her form and she knows well, as does Precious Lee, that one does not expose thick thighs by way of a side or front slit. Her look is handsomely august.
That neck, that waistline and the hoop skirt create the bustle-like look of the gilded age. Caroline and her performance truly capture the style of Martin Scorsese’s masterful film, Age of Innocence.
Commanding. Handsome and theatrical which is welcome in the gilded age or any other for that matter.
Clean, simple, elegant, though, her hair ought to have been gathered. Clearly, her hair was worn down as a way of detracting from her cleavage.
Look sweetheart, just because your grandmother was the official fart sniffer and second-hand smoke filter for HM The Queen’s notoriously uncouth sister, The Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowdon, does not give you the right to come pissing all over the Yanks and their perceived quaint culture. No American actor, if that’s what you’re comparably supposed to be, would ever dear show up at the annual Serpentine Summer Party thusly attired. We all know on that frightfully frigid, racist isle of yours, a damn Yank would be ejected from the gathering at once. Nobody wants to be acquainted with your lopsided quail egg boobs. You are fucking ridiculous. Go home. Stay gone and pluck that inbred-looking unibrow; you blasted desperate, no-talent attention whore.
Beautiful feet, lovely smile, great dress and without doubt, unlike the racist Poundland aristo’s, the nacre her pearls are of the highest quality.
Sneakers and a Dior smoking… the gilded age revisited.
Soft, delicate and fluid with beautiful complement of colours and textures. I especially love the shoes; this young man’s is a very elegant, beautiful look.
He would only be better dressed if carrying white gloves and a cane. Handsome in every way; got the memo and dialled it in. This earns Mr. Doherty the fifth spot on the best-dressed list.
Ms. Chen could not look any more lovely or elegant. The lined gloves are ingenious and she’s got great feet.
Can you feel the music that he radiates? Can you feel the love? I sure do. Beautiful human.
A gentleman always wears his white gloves. Very elegantly handsome indeed. Tails, white shoes and tie but, of course, Mr. Elgort clocks in at the tenth position on the best-dressed list.
Classic Fendi highlighted by the hat, bracelet and the most smashing shoes. Handsome and an eclectic winner!
White on white, beautiful. If only one had a good look at the double strand necklace. The mermaid and off-the-shoulder accents beautifully set off by the elegant gloves.
Red feathers delicately perched never looked so good. Beautiful creation.
There is a lot going on here but it all remarkably comes together beneath that beauteous high forehead.
As can be expected, everything is sheer perfection. Not a soft pink feather is out of place.
Coming through, looking like a Na’vi goddess just returned from Pandora; I know truly fierce makeup when I see it.
Great gown and she has sure got moxie.
That is a very elegant brown suit; his vibe is wonderfully laidback.
Beautiful. Stunning as is her personality.
There is so much happening here that her dress seems as though a runaway vine that’s consuming her and everything close by.
Lace catsuit with a dripping effect created beads partout. Very cool.
Sexy. Stylish. Beautiful. Stunning and the outfit only heightens her beauty.
The beautiful, charismatic, palpably in love thespian couple.
He’s definitely got a vibe and it is seriously infectious.
His look is rather 19th century – the beard the defining signature. His style and the ensemble are rather fluid, elegant and decidedly musical.
Why they did not throughout hold hands and passionately French kiss, is a true mystery; to have not done so, made the whole getup flat-footed and insipid.
Silver, black, mauve, metallic and matte; there is a lot going on with this exquisitely elegant dress. The gloves really makes this outfit both a classic and winner. Lovely.
Handsome. Refined. I love a man in a cape and all that monochromatic white on white on white is breathtakingly elegant.
HEAD OF STATE
Like true African royalty, she carries a blond fly whisk. Love the overall effect.
Gilded age, catamite or castrato… take your pick.
Though the colours work beautifully for not being a sculptural creation, this van Herpen comes off as merely conventional.
Classic van Herpen design. Clean architectural lines.
The creative genius in one of her angelic designs. Truly, her designs are uplifting works of art.
21st century human male – spiritually focussed and spreading love and the light fantastic. Top of the list it is, indeed. #bestdresedmale Met Gala 2022.
This is a very beautifully complex design. Remarkably, Phoebe looks like a young Helen Mirren.
Positively love the riot of beautiful blooms on the marvellous cape’s interior. Beautiful hands handsomely framed by frilled sleeves.
By far, this was one of the most beautiful, understated elegant designs at the Met Gala 2022. The gloves like the head scarf and train are touches that come together beautifully, creating one of the evening’s most memorable looks.
Claire Danes & Hugh Dancy
Gilded age or not, this is pure romanticism and glamour. The facial adornment is parfait. Lovely, elegant couple.
Gilded age, Jazz age or Great Gatsby, take your pick. A very beautiful man, wonderfully dressed and love the tie. To all this fluidity and one can only raise a glass and say, ‘Bottoms up!’ Patrick is ninth on the best-dressed list.
One of three hosts of Vogue’s live stream of the Met Gala, 2022 red carpet arrivals, La La’s outfit was strange. One does not wear a fascinator to an evening event. Ladies with thick thighs should always wear a column or mermaid gown, failing that extra wide pants would be wisest. Her exposed hips makes it look as though she is wearing a bath sheet as a wrap with train. I can appreciate her wanting to support a black designer but if I were her and this item showed up, I would have hightailed it to an appropriate boutique and rented a Balmain outfit.Even knee-high boots would have saved the outfit. No way to high heaven was Hamish Bowles going to co-host with Ms. Anthony looking as she was.
Elegant and refined; he is a winner through and through.
Simple and unpretentious. Great legs and lovely feet; her look is ever kaleidoscopic.
African royals’ take on the gilded age set in Zulu territory.
Chole Grace’s look, especially the eyes, bare so distinct a connection to Brooklyn Beckham’s that it would be surprising if they did not have a soul connection.
Lovely skirt, though, I rather suspect that so much midriff would not have been on display during the gilded age.
A pearl choker would handsomely have anchored Phoebe’s look in the gilded age.
Her top is interest, if modern; more than all that, those feet are everything and are nicely set off by the stretch leathery-looking pants.
Absolutely every detail of Ms. Jung’s outfit and élan is pitch perfect. Her stance… everything is utterly flawless.
Unless anticipating immient sea level rise, this hemline missed the gilded age timeline by inches. Truly unbecoming of Ms. Chan to have gotten it so wrong.
Mr. Ghesquière is creative director at Louis Vuitton under whose stewardship, the future looks uneclipsed.
Perhaps because she is expectant; however, little thought seemed to have factored into abiding by the gilded age theme.
Mr. Cooper is way too big a star to be on the best-dressed list. I have always warmed towards this human vibrationally.
Even more details appear in Emma Stone’s chic Louis Vuitton dress as she walks the carpet to this utterly intriguing man’s rear.
And in exciting news, spring follows winter…
Here’s to the many who truly own and enjoy being a woman. Go ahead Eiza!
Sweet, gorgeous, beautiful light and a lady to boot. A truly remarkable gown.
And this is how you own the gilded age!
Beautiful lady, beautiful dress.
One would never expect a professional model to not own it. Stunning woman wearing a stunning outfit.
This glamourous lady always gets it right each time she graces a red carpet.
This may as well be gold leaf, it looks just as magically delicate.
Ever she will be the ageless, fearless, Ripley.
He’s got the best showmanship energy. Wonderful.
Beautiful gold dress with contrasting black detailing. This precisely is what La La Anthony ought to have worn. Just imagine crawling to the top of those stairs then met by the sight of what the Vogue live streaming host was wearing.
Teal to pine-green either way, this is an outstanding costume. I especially love the matching lace up boots. I suspect that the designs on the train are more spectacular in person than they photograph.
Lace and beading on an elegant column dress; nicely dignified young lady; I especially favour the choker.
Got up like that, she may as well be six inches tall. Next!
Mature, elegant and spot-on august. This is a truly ladylike human as she presents for the gilded age. Monochromatic sophistication from head to toe, gloves to clutch. Brilliant.
Soft. Delicate, though, I don’t know how well the flaccid-looking bell sleeves work.
Monochromatic mess. She should be wearing large costume rings on her gloves ruby, emerald, sapphire; further as the dress is one piece in the back, the separate bra serves no point.
Lovely dress but the raccoon eye makeup is too distracting. Lovely blue tonalities.
One of the three Vogue red carpet live stream hosts, Vanessa’s dress is perfection; her legs are on display but discreetly as is appropriate. Hair up and lots of rings as is the current vogue. She is sensational.
Megan Thee Stallion
Don’t call her stallion for nothing. Here is one exception to the don’t wear a side slit dress if you’ve got thick thighs. Megan is next level sexy and she knows it. All that gold to match all that attitude and sex appeal. A hands down winner.
No complaints here… Madam is looking next-level perfect.
Simone’s style is much too casual for the occasion; definitely, not of the gilded age.
Pearls, bustle, pearl choker and plenty of sex appeal for the gilded age or any other.
The newly minted best supporting Oscar winner is as charming as she is eloquent. A winner, to be sure, in any age, gilded or otherwise.
Hands down, sixth best-dressed male. A man in lace leaves me utterly besotted.
Tycoon Jenner decides to give two effs and do as she pleases. Honestly, a baseball cap turned back-to-front? The flouncing skirt is beautiful.
Beautifully stunning man, impeccably dressed; when is velvet not elegant? I do, though, think that the different leg styles do not work; perhaps, it were in a lighter colour. He’s still a winner either way.
Mama sure made some profitable lemonade out of the fin de siècle lemon that was O. J. Simpson… and a sex tape, of course. When is an Oscar de la Renta not exquisitely chic? Certainly, this dress brings back memories of the icon of Olympic proportions, Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis.
Clean, elegant and understated. Super cool and elegant. Beautiful.
Like Miranda Kerr, Katy has a child with super cool Buddhist actor, Orlando Bloom. That aside, this is the most conventional costume she has worn to the Met Gala. Layered, it is elegant and marginally risqué.
A true amazon in a very big beautiful gown. And what a gorgeous blue dress it is.
Boom! What a joyously vibrant dress. This, without doubt, is one of the most memorable dresses at the Met Gala 2022.
Beautifully golden; however, I do think that this should have been a one-piece outfit.
This woman is too short for all the chaos going on with this gown and that shoelace-looking effect at the bust does not work.
The rather stylish Ashley is beautifully put together. The train works, the feathered skirt with front rather than side slit does work and she also knows how to present her feet – sickled/winged out rather than gauche/pigeon-toed. The bows work and the jewels are beautifully displayed. The white feathers add elegance and pull the eyes from being exclusively focussed on the upper body.
Beautiful sublime wonderfully adorned princess. This is a truly wonderful gown worn by a gorgeous lady.
Denée’s jewellery are exquisite and the dress beautiful. From afar, the wraparound bustle (what is it really) seems not to work; however, up close you discover the blooms in varying degrees of bloom and then the wraparound bustle make sense. For this to have truly worked, the blooms out to have been white – carnations, peonies or roses. Red on red simply does not work.
Everything about this is just wrong. The blooms placed as they are shrink her already short neck. Her thighs too thick for a side slit – the camera adds weight and volume where undesired. Hems too long and precludes walking comfortably. The split train at the shoulders further accentuates the fact that she’s neither tall nor lean – they should be at mid-back to waist; that way, it would elongate the line of the torso. Most of all, apart from the sickled in feet, the colour is too pale, making her appear darker and her eyes more recessed than not. Darker fabric would have had a desirably slimming effect.
The grand dame has arrived. Same designer as Camilla and Mindy but just look at the difference. Again, the shoulders are bare and the train begins at mid-back; it also allows for her jewellery to be best displayed. The colour is warm, enveloping and embraces more when she smiles. A heavy fabric, it also has enough flair at the feet, allowing to kick-step as one does in such gowns. Most of all, it covers up that most important feature, the feet; you can never tell if they are turned out or sickled in, which matters immensely. Just look at the elongation of the lines when Hoyeong Jung poses with her booted working leg extended and turned out. Straight away, the line is long, perfected…. aesthetic.
Now, we come to the statuesque Kiki doing her return turn in a beautiful rose gown, same designer of course. Like Mindy, hers is not an especially long neck but her afro creates a crown-like halo effect thereby creating no umbra to the neckline. Here too, as with Mindy’s, there are blooms; however, here are placed at the gloves and at or below the bosom. With the placement of the blooms on Mindy’s gown, it makes it appear as though her head is submerging into her shoulders. Kiki’s gown has a fluted, thereby allowing her to kick-step and confidently stride. Jewellery is kept to a minimum, allowing both Kiki and the design to shine. As with Mindy, we have no idea if her feet are large and sickle in. You get done up to look your best not to have your great grandkids wonder, ‘what were they thinking?’
The designer, Prabal Gurung, with two smartly dressed clients, Philip Lim & Michelle Yeoh.
Gloved and she even had a large fan which she used to dramatic effect… Delightful to have watched her work the red carpet.
I rather admire this family; here you have six strong powerful women who have made their mark. They could have chosen to be reborn male and been successful; instead, they used the spotlight of the O. J. Simpson trial to step centre stage and took off like greased lightning. They have served as admirable role models in the age of female empowerment. They are all anchored by Kim Kardashian who has master numbers of 11; never under estimate the power of persons with master numbers.
Beautiful beading and wonderful train. Lovely dress.
Talk about survivor; this woman is phenomenally resourceful with incredible staying power. She is truly inspirational.
Feel the love; look at this adorable creative soul weave his magic. The shoes, the cape, the beading and that very alluringly kiss-inducing sternocleidomastoid…
There are conflicting reports which design house this man is wearing. Ether way, it is trop gauche to be stuffing non-straight leg trousers into books.
I can’t see this man playing Elvis Presley; however, Baz Luhrmann certainly thinks so. Incidentally, Elvis is a young soul entity mate of mine and Merlin’s as for that matter are Robin Williams and James Baldwin – all three entity mates’ Michael overleaves will be shared at the end of this commentary. .
My, but he has the most beautiful eyes and is possessed of superior style. Kelvin places eighth on the best-dressed list. Kelvin also appears with Austin Butler in the forthcoming Baz Luhrmann Elvis Presley biopic.
The always elegant and sophisticated Janelle working the crowd, her priest soul-looking eyes doing a very good Gloria Swanson turn à la Sunset Boulevard.
Don’t step on my trains! So very good to see Shalom. For me, she was the most exciting model arriving on the scene in the early 90s and she is a Canadian model too. She has that old Hollywood glamour aura about and looks not dissimilar to a young Barbara Amiel. Great red carpet drama.
How appropriate is that cape’s motif. Not since Frank Sinatra’s New York City anthem has a new anthem and by a native New Yorker the insanely creative, Alicia Keys. The music power couple look devastatingly handsome.
Red carpet host and emcee, as ever Hamish Bowles reigns supreme, laurel and all.
A gentleman always wears a white tie and a smile.
Guess who owns every square inch of sexy. Rings, cane, white tie, stache and yeah, that hair too.
His humour like his fame utterly escapes me. C’est la vie.
Suave, engaging and inordinately creative, he is the bringer of light and musical joy. And he has style in spades too; look at that suede jacket.
Work those feet darling. It’s is a barely there dress that celebrates her youth and thriving sexuality in a world where her name is a global grand. She knows and understands her role in the pecking order at present.
This dress work beautifully and the gold does not outdo nor overwhelm the rest of her look. Beautiful.
Trans, drag-king, who knows… more to the point, who fucking cares.
Something about her look, I think that it is the hairstyle, reminds me of Coco Chanel. Black and gold always proves a winning combination. What I really like about this outfit is the gorgeous hemline to the tulle; certainly a dress like hers or Chloe Finemann’s is precisely what Mindy Kaling ought to have worn. The gold work here is masterful and I do love those shoes.
Quirky hat, okay; however, those daft Balmain platforms are ridiculously out of place at the Met Gala… or anywhere else for that matter.
Nothing says gilded age accessory like hanging off a billionaire’s arm. Interesting fabric combinations but gold & black always magically work. It does seems as though her dress would be a noisy affair.
Not since the wedding of the Duke & Duchess of Sussex has the lovely couple been working a global red carpet event. He wears an outfit designed by Turkish-German, Umit Benan
He’s got a lock on old Hollywood good looks and glamour and his designs are incredible.
The ensemble works and she definitely looks happy.
Jewellery should never resemble plucked chicken legs, as for the rest, nothing here resembles the gilded age.
Lizzo is here and makes no apologies for anything. Perception is all and all she sees is beautiful talent and a lot of love & light to give.
Must be strange to see a clown suit in the mirror when naked. Their outfits are trifling but what do they care when carnally consumed like semi-feral gibbons en chaleur.
How cool and damn sexy is this man, who has no qualms about wearing a kanga. Awesome.
Had he been wearing white gloves, he may have made the top ten on the best-dressed list. Then, again, how is he to compete with post-twink fare like Manu Rios and Patrick Schwarzenegger.
Go on, Lady. Now that is how you do it and not a lick of jewellery.
Every film, every photoshoot. this extraordinary human makes my soul purr. Like all redheads, she is literally magical in dreams… I have encountered her in two or three dreams. I don’t do gushing fan nonsense in dreams. She like every redhead female encountered in dreams, is acutely telepathic. She understands and owns her magic and effortlessly pulls it off in her films. Elegant, she is in Jacqueline de Ribes, Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis territory in this white Tom Ford masterpiece.
Super handsome couple, Henry places fourth on the best-dressed list. He has the most beautiful smiling eyes. Those eyes had me see Crazy Rich Asians a third time. By the way, her sheer dress works.
Always amazing to watch how a couples eyes morph over time, looking and feeling vibrationally similar. Perfect in every way, both; and he has got his white gloves.
As ever, Mr. Ford looks marvellous. I certainly pray that he is having the most sublime dreams with his departed love.
Don’t know his music and in no hurry to explore it.
His style is admirable; love the jacket.
Now that’s how a gold dress should look and, of course, he is elegantly attired.
Sadly, there were no good photographs of this exquisite-looking model to be had; the dress though was divine and its two black bows priceless.
A rich creamy white, it is hard to tell whether it is silk or not. In keeping with the gilded age theme, Sydney ought to have been wearing gloves, even long black gloves would have anchored all that white fabric.
Hello! Kerry has great feet and her legs are not thick. She beautifully works that side slit and look at her work those feet. The off-the-shoulder draping cape is an ingenious effect that beautifully keeps her body nicely silhouetted in all the right places.
All primary-coloured outfits in this photograph work handsomely to best display the individual.
Lovely hoop earrings and that skirt attached to the scalloped-like bodice is simply goddess-like. It is an ingenious design.
There is no red like the Valentino red; clearly, too, there is no pink like the Valentino pink. Coquettish, casual, breezy and pretty. She is a winner.
Billionaires. Internationally famous. Celebrities. To these groups some cross two possibly all circles. To them Nicola was no more than Honey Boo Boo’s third cousin who had won 500m on the Powerball lottery. Not enough to be Rich Kids of Insta; small time is just that. So fils Beckham is dowried, shall we say, as he is a ticket to getting to the big leagues. She has the cache of papa’s minor billions and he, the SNDP (serves no discernible purpose) kinder of the world famous. 1.5 kids later, if at all that much, and she should be on to social/class passport number 2 – minor Euro royal of obscure note or perhaps a Tech billionaire if her entrée to the social inner sanctum proved a dismal misfire. On attend… time, indeed, reveals all.
Ah yes, and now we come to the real McCoy… the gold standard. One of cinema’s greatest actors – think Meeting Venus, Fatal Attraction & Dangerous Liaisons.
Though not set in the Gilded Age, John Frears’ masterpiece costume drama, Dangerous Liaisons puts Ms. Close’s acting chops to excellent use.
And, of course, rightly so she is escorted Valentino’s creative director, Pierpaolo Piccioli whose show below was on the most sublime moments in fashion theatre.
He really ought to have made an effort.
Diaphanous and solipsism – youth is myopically silly like that.
The most extraordinary Queen.
If you are going to so drastically self-alter, at the very least also consider a name-change.
WAP WAP WAP. It is so deliciously real to watch this woman, use her dagger-like nails to stab at cucumber, slide the stabbed sliced vegetable around the plate to sop up sauce, devour it all whilst speaking with her sexy overbite seductively drawing you in with a smattering of profanities keeping it real. Get a bucket and a mop, the Lady is the most glorious tramp! Power to her, she has succeeded at working and owning the ultimate pole – fame/success/money and all that.
Auteur, genius, creative powerhouse and as can be expected she knows how to keep it real when suited.
Seriously darling, it would not have been too much to have gotten a pedicure. Love the creative weave of mesh and beading, beautiful tone of grey; a marvellous Versace design.
That’s a whole lot of train and ingeniously it is reversible. Stunning!
Late one evening after the playwright John Douglas had been by as they worked on a script, which eventually Merlin would have me proof and give feedback on, Merlin and I began discussing an upcoming dinner party that we would be hosting. Names were proffered and invariably Merlin would pause, scowl then dismissively scrawl next to someone’s name SNDP… there were always many such persons. Some mix of persons just made little sense. I have always thought this woman just that, SNDP (serves no discernible purpose). She perpetually foists her ill-proportioned body in varying degrees of undress whilst claiming to be a model. Kate, Naomi, Cindy, Linda, Christy these are models and they are professional not this SNDP; just look at the way she is dressed.
The shiny silver sheath, the smoky train afloat with puffy white blooms all centred by that giant red bloom. Of course Ms. Union came enrobed in the love of Dwayne Wade. Perfection.
Three queens shining uneclipsed.
Look at darling Gigi, mother, model and the legs that aesthetically look good in a side or front slit dress. This is how you slay.
Just look at the details and tailoring of her gown. Basta! So much style and personality; it could only be larger-than-life Donatella!
This may well be Dylan; no idea who they are but in some sources it was said to be Dylan. Definitely, this look would have been considered futuristic in the gilded age.
All that swagger and some Courvoisier on the side. With good reason, Dwayne makes it to lucky seventh place on the best-dressed list. The cane, the gold pocket watch chain and that diamond necklace! Yes, indeed, metrosexy does the gilded age.
Hats at night indoors is a definite no! How it never dawned on anyone that this woman looks like Yosemite Sam in drag, is all you need to be mindful of. Clueless!
Nyjah gets an honourable mention. Seriously, though, unless it is Japanese, I really don’t get the appeal of tattoos, especially on clearly unaware Blacks, who get inked and it proves barely perceptible against their rich expanse of melanin. The suit and boots are an exquisite combination.
She s a model and knows how to work it. I really love that emerald.
Nowhere did I find mention of exactly what design house these persons were wearing.
Honourable Mention Gentlemen
Andy Blankenbuehler, Ben Platt, Franklin Leonard, Gunna, Jeremy Strong, Odell Beckham Jr. Stromae, Mark Guiducci & Lenny Kravitz.
Lenny Kravitz certainly looked sexy and I loved his choice of jewellery.
Honourable Mention Couples I
Kim Kardashian-Thomas-Humphries-West & Pete Davidson, Agnes Chu & Tom Gilmore, Aurora James, Diana Taylor & Michael Bloomberg, Marc Jacobs & Charly Defrancesco, Vanessa Nadal & Lin-Manuel Miranda.
The persons who had Marilyn Monroe’s iconic dress loaned out need to be sacked. It’s like some parvenu Parisian hostess having the Mona Lisa in her dining room for her next dinner party. Just no!
Honourable Mention Couples II
Edward Enninful & Alec Maxwell, Diane von Furstenberg & Barry Diller, James Corden & Julia Carey, Maya Haile & Marcus Sameulsson, Stephen Jones & Amy Fine Collins & Tracey Collins & Eric Adams.
All the stylish glitterati to be had were out in force; however, their designs origins were never mentioned anywhere.
With his recent passing, this exquisite cape of Mr. Talley’s has been acquired by the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume Institute. Back in 1983, New York City milliner, Frederick Jones and I were walking along West 57th Street en route to Bergdorf Goodman’s. Frederick was going to shop; however, it also meant that he was going to be hustling. Frederick positively loved Merlin and was chiefly Merlin’s friend. That summer because Merlin was in Toronto, working on Fraggle Rock and a couple of theatre productions, he asked Frederick to keep an eye on me. By this point, Merlin and I had spent a very memorable weekend at the Hotel Chelsea in one of those rooms that faced the courtyard and that first night as we fucked all night, at one point, Merlin his limbs wrapped around my frenzied, sweaty body, let out a sigh and began convulsing. As it was early in our relationship, I thought that perhaps he was having an epileptic seizure. Pulling out, concerned, I watched as Merlin’s eyes rolled back and he climaxed without once having touched himself. The look of ecstasy on his face, I will never forget. He professed his love and told me that it had never happened before and that I was his for life… more importantly, Merlin said that he was mine for life. We remained inseparable thereafter.
Walking east along the wide boulevard, coming towards us was the tallest most striking man. I would learn afterwards that it was Andre Leon Talley with whom Frederick was upset. Just imagine, Andre had not said hello to him. Later that week, at an Upper West Side dinner party someone spoke of Andre and how well he was doing, Frederick chimed in and declared, ‘The day he arrives in heaven, all god’s coloured queens will bow down.’
From there, it was on to more partying, which culminated in going to the Ab’sinyan Ba’tist Chuch, as Frederick would proclaim. Frederick always attended because it was all about the hustle; he was there to sell his hats and see who wore which of his hats. First met Frederick when he came to dinner in early December, 1982 to the Trocadero loft in Chelsea on Sixth Avenue below 23rd Street. The following February, whilst still staying at the Trocadero loft, Grace Jones appeared at the Grammy Awards, wearing what we all knew was a Frederick Jones creation but which was lauded as a Lagerfeld creation.
This, I can assure you, caused Frederick to drink to excess for weeks devastated as he was; he wailed at the betrayal as though his mama had died. Eventually, I would in the summer of 1983 spend most of my time blocking and shopping in the garment district for fabrics, returned to his West 43rd Street in mid-afternoon after dance classes and auditions; it was an exciting adventure working for Frederick and earning some under-the-table cash. His tall fiercely jealous Puerto Rican lover was cool towards me. Frederick and I, though, managed a hot sex life with all the feverish brevity of Bonobos at play. Both Leos born in early august our bond was filial rather than not. I drove him on to be more productive all the while, managing to serve him less gin, which Frederick, sadly, drank all day long.
Victoria Beckham who hands down wins best red carpet feet!
One day as Frederick pored through the latest photos of his clients wearing his hats, I explained the importance of standing sickled out when being photographed. Yes, indeed, not standing like a pigeon-toed oaf was truly elegant. Soon, Frederick became obsessed with feet. I was being made to show his clients how to properly stand when they were being photographed whilst wearing his creations, which were genuine masterpieces; these quick tutorials, I did whilst wearing a pair of black patent leather high heels, purchased just off Times Square. Pretty soon, Frederick was bragging to Merlin that thanks to me, his photographed creations looked more sophisticated. To this day, I often smile when seeing someone walking a red carpet and posing sickled in. Frederick would actually yell, ‘Lord Jesus’ as we were anywhere or watching TV and someone stood around pigeon-toed.
Looking at the arrivals for the recent memorial for Andre Leon Talley, I was reminded of Frederick when accompanying him to the Ab’sinyan to which Merlin when in town made it on a few occasions.
Anna Wintour escorted by her son, Charles Shaffer attending the memorial for Andre Leon Talley at the Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, New York City.
Veronica Webb is the most articulate, eloquent American model of the 1990s and I lived for Saturdays when Jeanne Becker hosted Fashion Television as she just might be featured saying something… anything.
Photographer Dario stylishly attired in kanga; I love the puffy-sleeved jacket.
An elegantly demure Kate Moss departs Harlem’s Abyssinian Baptist Church.
Coming through, none other than Baby Phat, Kimora Lee Simmons.
Dame Anna Wintour’s daughter, Bee Shaffer-Carrozzini whose handsome husband is the late editor-in-chief of Vogue Italia, Franca Sozzani’s son.
Journalist, writer critic Emil and über soignée fashion editor, Claire Sulmers elegantly representing.
The grand dame of the wrap dress; I rather admire this human.
Gosh, they grow up fast.
Writer, journalist and one sexually magnetic human.
The socially ubiquitous Mr. Blasberg escorting Karlie Kloss.
Ever stylish and still elegantly striding forth.
Gucci executive arriving at the Abyssinian Baptist Church.
TV journalist and maverick arriving to memorial service in Harlem.
Well, of course, he’s elegantly dressed.
Yes, why wouldn’t the Queen be in attendance?
Near 40 years later, I smiled on the day that I heard of Andre Leon Talley’s passing. I was comforted in knowing that among all god’s coloured queens bowing down as Andre arrived in heaven, was Frederick Jones.
Baldwin, James 2/8/24 <0>30/11/87
This fragment, a priest, was a fourth level mature soul – second incarnation at this level. The mode was repression with a goal of growth – internally abrading overleaves. An idealist, he was in the intellectual centre moving part.
Body type was Mercury/Saturn.
James’ primary chief feature was Impatience and the secondary martyrdom. There was also some degree of self-destruction due to early childhood traumas.
Casting was fourth-cast in a fifth cadence in a sixth entity, cadre one, greater cadre 7, node 414, same entity as Arvin.
The essence twin is a priest, incarnate and the slave task companion is discarnate.
James’ three primary needs were: freedom, power and expression. ________________________________________________
Presley, Elvis 8/1/1935<O>16/8/1977
Michael: This fragment was a fifth-level young sage – third life thereat. Elvis was in the passion mode with a goal of growth. A spiritualist, Elvis was in the intellectual part of moving centre.
Elvis had a Venus/Mars body type.
Elvis’ primary chief feature was arrogance with a secondary of greed fixated on experience.
Elvis is seventh-cast in the second cadence of the first greater cadence. Elvis is a fragment of entity six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod/node 414 – an entity mate of both Arvin & Merlin.
Elvis has a sage essence twin and the task companion is an artisan to whom he was wed — Priscilla Presley.
Elvis’ three primary needs were: expression, power and freedom.
There are 12 past-life associations with Arvin and 8 with Merlin.
Williams, Robin 21/7/1951<O>11/8/2014
Michael: This fragment was a sixth level mature sage — second life thereat. Robin was in the passion mode with a goal of dominance. A sceptic, he was in the emotional part of moving centre.
Body type was Mars/Venus.
Robin’s primary chief feature was arrogance and the secondary was self-destruction.
The fragment Robin is second-cast in fifth cadence; he is a member of greater cadence six. Robin’s entity is six, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod 414 — another entity mate of both Merlin and Arvin.
Robin’s essence twin is a sage and the artisan task companion was known to him.
Robin’s four primary needs were: expression, adventure, communion and security.
There are 18 past-life associations with Arvin and 12 with Merlin.
Last night, on the eve of HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales’s 73rd birthday, I dreamt the most spectacularly lucid dream in long decades. In the evening of Saturday, November 13th, 2021 when I don’t even know the lunar phase and have not audio-cassette recorded my dreams since 1997 when then living in Montréal, I simply had to share this dream. I awoke from the dream being saddened that I had to come to so soon.
At once I was come to in the most lucid dream set on the astral plane. Astral plane dreams are possessed of lighting that is uniquely found there and nowhere else. Vibrationally, it always feels in such dreams as it does between 0400 and 0600 with the intensity of this magical time being closer to 0500. In any event, I was in the midst of a flying dream above what can only be called the boulevard. It was a street wider than any in the waking state. The focal point of the dream, in this astral metropolis of at least 3 billion souls, was the gates to an ancient church, which was set back from the boulevard at the end of a long narrow straight pathway. It was exactly as the Anglican Church in the parish of St. Anne in Sandy Point St. Kitts. It was a church which was millennia old and all along the path to the foreboding wrought iron gates were clergy – all male – of the Anglican faith. As at the Anglican church in Sandy Point on either side of the pathway between the church and the gates were graves with the most ancient tombstones imaginable. There was a lone grave which was open, the earth on either side black and rich. There were clergymen at the grave concluding their business. As I alighted and took my place along the boulevard, HM The Queen walked alone in a green crew neck woollen dress; it was the same colour as a young artichoke, green fig or green guava. She carried no handbag. There were no corgis; about her neck was a single strand pearl necklace which was so ancient that its nacre had become diffused, time-yellowed and on the very cusp of looking like browning rotting teeth. She was reserved and poised and as the rear of the giant Rolls Royce faced the gates of the church and cemetery, she walked around to the right rear door and entered; her hair here was beginning to grey but predominantly brunette. There was no foot person to open the door. She got in and was seemingly in her late forties to early fifties, which is more in keeping with her soul age, that of being an early mature slave soul.
Myself for not being an astral plane habitué, had the ability to fly on the astral plane and, of course, though the habitués themselves could, they of custom chose not to. I was for being an observer referred to by the habitués as a visitor. On exiting the grounds – just as in the Sandy Point, St. Kitts arrangement, there was a crescent in which the massive Rolls Royce sat with its rear facing the open gates to the cemetery and church. The car carrying the arrivée Sovereign was expected and eventually did turn right onto the ridiculously large boulevard where the astral plane throngs along the boulevard’s route were as claustrophobically packed in as it must have been at St. Paul’s Cathedral for the Duke of Wellington’s funeral. Here the atmosphere was electric.
What had initially drawn me to this marvellous place, was the distant sound of several bugles, playing the rouse. I knew instantly what it meant. On my arrival, there were hills all around this sector of the astral plane metropolis; this seemed to a very layered astral plane London where different epochs in the city’s history simultaneously co-existed. On one particular wooded hill were the largest stags imaginable – they looked almost sentient whilst regally standing in small mobs. They had majestically arrived to the top from the other side, stood there for a long while then en masse sat down to onlook. Along the route, there were the most massive black steeds and when they walked and stood along the route, they were buried in the astral landscape such that the underside of their bellies were submerged.
The arrivée astral plane habitué Sovereign was then taken on a celebratory parade. The wood was an exquisitely polished oak that framed the exterior of this astral plane version of the Rolls Royce that seemed to have been from the late 1920s to early 1930s. On pulling out onto the boulevard the slow-moving single vehicle motorcade turned right and went down to the shorter arm of the boulevard. Along the right, as it were, of the boulevard and on either side were the most opulent, massive astral plane replicas of each and every stately home in England. The closest house on the right on leaving the cemetery was Blenheim Palace This astral plane version was easily 30 storeys tall and at least 15 millennia older than its waking state counterpart; I suppose that they were this massive as they served as suites for past Dukes of Marlborough as with Blenheim Palace. Even the stately houses which were demolished at the end of the empire, which saw families that didn’t marry robber baron Americans to stay afloat, were here represented. Longleat House, Althorp House, Highclere Castle, Knole House, Hampton Court Palace, Kensington Palace, Mapperton House, Waddesdon Manor, Wilton House, Castle Howard, Chatsworth House; you name it, they were all here behind wrought iron fencing and they stood side-by-side without massive ground anchoring each. This astral plane Blenheim Palace counterpart had sapphire-blue cupolas at the towers and center; every astral plane counterpart was here replete with sapphire-blue copulas. The walls of each house on the astral plane was made of marble that was time-yellowed, betraying the multiple millennia it had existed on the astral plane. Just as the skyscrapers on New York City’s Avenue of the Americas from 42nd to 57th Streets are tall and easily in excess of 30 storeys, so too was each of these astral plane counterparts for familiar English stately houses.
All along the route, which was teeming with astral plane habitués, there were different sections that towered up for several storeys. Directly opposite the gates to the church and cemetery from which the astral habitué Sovereign Elizabeth II emerged alone, was regally sat Sir Winston Churchill; he was surrounded by all the astral plane habitué Prime Ministers who had served HM The Queen. Here, there was a section reserved for astral plane-focussed English aristocrats; one recognisable such habitué was Gerald Grovesnor, 6th Duke of Westminster. At no point, however, did I ever see the following habitué relatives, HRH Prince Philip Duke of Edinburgh, HM Queen Elizabeth Queen Mother, HRH Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowdon or Diana, Princess of Wales. Constantly, persons were arriving to take their place, even when the parade was begun. This dream was so vivid, so electric, so lucid that the stimuli was so overwhelming that I times, I had to alight to ground myself. Indeed, at times, it proved laborious to try and fly where the amount of stimuli and the outréness of this astral plane milieu proved overwhelming on my ability to stay aloft to project myself whilst astrally projected into this utterly rhapsodic dream. As this dream was set on the astral plane, there were astral plane habitués here who wore the dress of the age in which they lived when incarnate. I readily assumed that these were past-life personae with connections to HM The Queen from past lives.
As I soared in flight into the astral plane air some three storeys above to get my bearings, I saw a phalanx of swashbuckling courtiers, progressing down the boulevard to take their place. They had all the swagger and style of dress as King Charles I in the masterful van Dyck tableau, Charles at the Hunt, which hangs at Musée du Louvre. They walked down the boulevard which housed the stately houses on either side, and well ahead of the habitué Sovereign’s Rolls Royce, which glided along the boulevard as if in bucolic slow-motion.
Still, there was a section of the immensely long boulevard which seemed as if longer than New York City’s Fifth Avenue, which on either side housed waking state visitors who were in attendance. Naomi Campbell, who was recently made Commonwealth ambassador to replace the Duke and Duchess of Sussex on their departure from royal duties, was here present. She was there in an enclosed section where all the waking state guests were kept. Also notable was fellow supermodel Kate Moss. I found it utterly fascinating to hear Ms. Campbell speaking in flawless Jamaican patois as she was gobsmacked by the beauty of this astral plane ritual. Taking a break from the laboriousness of dream flight in this particular dream, I had sought refuge in the glass enclosed stands where incarnate persons were focussed. These stands existed opposite each other across the ridiculously wide boulevard.
Once returned to flight I soon realised the immensity of the life that HM The Queen had lived. Here along the astral plane boulevard, on which I suppose that the Circus Maximus was modelled, were habitués who had lived during HM The Queen’s long life and reign and who had immensely admired her. These spanned the range of human civilisation with not just every racial stratum of Commonwealth member states but all other humans who had so immensely admired this extraordinary human being. Here were astral plane habitués from the 1930s, 1940s, 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, 2000s, 2010, 2020s. From her earliest years of being the much admired Princess of York to becoming the young Sovereign and onwards, there were adoring astral plane habitué admirers. Absolutely everyone was here represented. It was simply overwhelming to see so many tens of millions of persons focussed in one place and all experiencing rapture at the arrival of someone in whom they had focussed much of their admiration, respect and love. This was a truly remarkable dream.
Pushing of again and exploring more of the unique dreamscape, I flew slowly in the opposite direction of the habitué Sovereign’s parade down the boulevard lorded over by palatial astral plane counterparts to known English stately houses. In one section there were humanoid creatures whose look suggested that these were animals which were long extinct long before animals were documented in earnest. One particular creature was pure white with liver spots markings. This large-headed male was singing whilst perched on a floating dais. Cloaked in a white ermine robe, the three to four thousand pound male creature sang with a range that went from whale song to counter tenor bravura. His voice was simply healing. Light seemed to emanate from beneath his skin and in varying intensities based on his emotions. His performance was so powerful that I had to alight again just to gather my energy reserves as flying does take considerable focussed energy.
Further along the boulevard, as every corner of the Commonwealth was here richly represented and this was a celebration of the life of the arrivée Sovereign, there were African women in colour garb, singing and dancing with jubilation written all over their cul-de-sac of the astral plane. From time to time, feeling the spirit one or more African woman would step into the boulevard and let their spirit jubilantly soar whilst in trance from singing and dancing their souls out.
The further along the boulevard one explored in flight to the left of the cemetery gates and to which the arrivée Sovereign had yet paraded, I explored whilst flying. Eventually, the lone Rolls Royce would come past a section of the boulevard where the astral plane habitués though humanoid, had heads that were akin to those of many gods from the Egyptian pantheon. Still, there were those who closely resembled Kiwi bird-headed humanoids. As astral plane-focussed dreams go, this contingent of totemic beings was not that unusual a sight. When the arrivée Sovereign’s motorcade of one turned to return and tour past the cemetery, I took to the air again and this time soared higher than usual. This enabled me to fly more swiftly than when lower to the electrically charged activity along the boulevard’s route. I returned to the far end of the boulevard to a stately house which sat at the end. Inside this royal residence, there truly was a battle royal underway. At the centre of this feud was Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. Here, her voice was a booming commanding business. She was powerful and was settling scores. When she spoke, the walls of the stately house cracked, glass and art flew off the walls. Eventually one of the stately house’s cupolas cracked and eventually collapsed. It was a noisy, violent business.
The last time that I had dreamt of an astral plane-focussed dream wherein the past was being prosecuted, involved the recently passed Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Maria Callas. That, too, was a battle royal where scores were being settled. That dream is as follows:
*As per the urgency of this dream, I rather suspect that HM The Queen may already have passed by the time of the 2021 Remembrance Service at the Cenotaph; however, London’s hotels would have to be cleared of the Veterans and tourists before the death announcement would be made.
As ever, Life is like a flying dream; if you look down, you’re fucked. Enjoy the ride and fear no one!