On the day she (please-God-jokingly) said her new album would be titled “MDNAâ€, Madonna walked the red carpet for her London premiere of directorial effort, W.E., wearing… this. Normally one could correctly assume that Madonna and a black lace cloak of some kind would have my panties rung out from wetness already, but I’m honestly not feeling it. I don’t know if it’s the way the lace just seems to lifelessly hang there, or the lackluster way it comes across in photographs, or whether it’s simply too much black and lace over the last year or two, but whatever the case it’s not my favorite.
However, after deriding the look on FaceBook and Twitter, I had to stop and pull back. While I love Madonna more than my own self sometimes, I’m also quite hard on her, and waste no time criticizing something I don’t like. This is not for the sake of change, it suddenly dawned on me, but the simple fact that I hold Madonna to a higher standard than just about everyone. It’s to her credit that she gets judged so harshly, because she set the bar so high. If she looks bad, it’s only because she usually looks so good. Then it dawned on me that this is precisely the sort of back-handed compliment I absolutely despise.
It’s kind of like when someone says they think my facial hair looks like shit but I’m handsome anyway. With that bit of reflective reconsideration in mind I have but this to say to Madonna: Rock on with your bitchin’ and bewitchin’ cape. Everyone deserves the chance to fly.
PS – The red gloves are smoking.
