Remember YM's awesome “Say Anything” column? Where readers wrote in their with most embarrassing stories about getting their period unexpectedly or farting in front of a boy they liked and being MORTIFIED about it? Well I’d like to submit the following story that, no joke, happened to me last night: I was lucky enough to be invited to attend the New York City Ballet’s spring gala. It is a very fancy event. Natalie Portman was the co-chair; her husband Benjamin Millepied choreographed a new ballet and Rodarte did the costumes. Drew Barrymore was there. So was Grace Coddington. Flowers hung from the ceiling at the David Koch Theater, where dinner was held. The theme was “A La Francaise” and Dior and Swarovski were sponsors.
Everyone was in ball gowns.
I arrived in a gorgeous dress that a friend let me borrow (Kate Bosworth even wore it once--so you know it was good). Everything was good on the cab ride up to Lincoln Center. I made my way down the theater to my seat for the ballet, and I didn't fall or anything! I sat down. And then I felt it: riiippp. The teeth of the zipper totally came apart. The lady behind me tried her best but there was no hope – the zipper was stuck at the top and the back of my dress was wide open. Like, all the way down to my bum. I looked up and there was Drew Barrymore with her super-hot fiance. Maybe this would be a good way to make friends with Drew Barrymore, I thought. She’s surely had some wardrobe malfunctions on a grander scale and maybe she could help and we could bond and no, no, FOCUS! The ladies behind me convinced me to just stay for first half of the ballet at least (we’re fast friends at this point) so I pressed my back into my chair and waited anxiously for intermission.
Millepied’s ballet ends and I booked it for the bathroom. One of Swarovski's awesome PR team lent me her shawl so I could make it to the ladies without mooning anyone but I’m pretty sure that failed. I got to the bathroom and realized things had gotten worse: I am not only basically naked, but also am trapped in the dress. I wrapped the shawl around me like a bath towel, which is a very good look at intermission during the NYCB spring gala, and headed for coat check, where thankfully, I had stowed a bag that contained what I wore to work that day: jeans and a sweater with a dog on it.
I headed back for the bathroom and still, I was stuck. I didn't want to break the dress but I was running of options. A magical bathroom attendant appeared and offered to help. She had at it as women looked on, slightly sympathetic, slightly horrified. Ten minutes went by and still no luck. Fuck. Beautiful expensive designer dress is ruined, I think. And then all of a sudden, zipper movement! One side budged and it’s enough to free me. I refrained from hugging the bathroom attendant, changed into my jeans, and give a thousand thank-yous. At that point I told everyone that I was headed home (because at that point I have an audience).
“No, you must go back!” the attendant shouted, as the other women in the bathroom yell, too. “Just go!” (How I suddenly became the klutzy star of a romcom I still don't know.)
So I went. And you know what? I was super comfy and since I'm not Natalie Portman, no one cared one bit.
Make me feel less alone guys, what were your worst wardrobe malfunctions?
Click through to see photos of the fancy people dressed appropriately at last night's NYCB gala.