Sisyphus faced a mountain and laboriously pushed a boulder to the top.
A mandem of five were affronted by a staircase. Their burden, Tyla, wore an impractical dress that left her in need of a lift to the top. Rather than a rock, Tyla accessorized with an hourglass handbag, purely decorative.
Sisyphus did not attend the Gala as the Gods’ condemnation forced him to repeat his task throughout eternity since the boulder always rolls back down. His efforts continue as I write this.
Tyla’s mandwich quintet reached her perch and cautiously let go, ensuring she had her footing. Then they swooshed the long fabric of her skirt until it lay admirably on the carpet. Stepping back, they waited. Click, click, click, “Tyla, over here!” Click, click, click…
I don’t know who Tyla is or how life led her to the sand-woman regalia. She is beautiful and wore it well.
The flocktastic-five did not need to carry her down at the end of the Gala, as the dress was drastically altered.
Did the beautiful people take pleasure in their haute (as per geographic coordinates) couture? It was the artistic expression of others for which they were admired.
Sisyphus took pride in his task’s accomplishment. The irony for Sisyphus was his self-satisfaction despite the meaninglessness of his task.
There are few tasks that have meaning. Tyla didn’t seem to suffer the absurdity of life.
Sisyphus must have contemplated the eventual erosion of his boulder and the possibility that someone might someday wear its granules in a costume at the Met Gala in a year when the theme would be ‘Garden Party.’
The epitome of a non-essential worker, the ridiculousness of their tasks, they showed resilience and perseverance in the face of adversity… gravity.
Am I envious of having a team of stylists work on me for hours, then a group of men to carry me wherever? It is an absurdity I would have enjoyed for an afternoon. An abstract evening, wearing a design based on a theme, “Garden Party.” I would have dressed like a yellow jacket. I didn’t see wasps represented in the crowd.
I viewed the Met photos and brief video clips of what amounted to costumes of impractical art for part one of their evening, then after-party friendly couture for the second part of the annual event.
It led me to consider my world, far removed, and yesterday’s highlight was on my porch light caught on camera by my son. My garden party wasn’t so bad.
A lot from Lydia 
Was Tyla (who in the heck is she??) wearing a paper dress? The money these people pay to attend this party is crazy. I’d rather sit and watch those adorable baby birds on your porch.
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I have no idea who she is. She only caught my attention because she had five men carrying her up the steps.
The baby birds are adorable, but I can’t use my front door until they fly the coop. There are several grown robins guarding them, watching the door, and they attack. It’s like out of Alfred Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds.’.
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Funny not funny about “The Birds.”
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My daughter tells me “she’s from South Africa and does r&b dance music. She’s only been making music for about a year and became really popular quickly.”
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