Rebels to the End

Today's New York Times has a report on the opening night of the "AngloMania" exhibition of British fashion organized by Vogue's Anna Wintour at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

" . . . the Anglo-Irish crowd must have felt there was something stiflingly unreal in the hedges and pub food, an Englishness that was merely for show. Anyway, by dinnertime, the grumbling had started.

"Can you believe they're giving us pies?" a British model said when a lamb pie was put in front of her.

When John Lydon, the former Sex Pistol known as Johnny Rotten, found his seat — the last at a long table and arguably one of the least desirable in the highly orchestrated seating plan — he was visibly upset. Which was funny: You wouldn't expect a punk to attend a society dinner, much less be aggrieved by his placement. Mr. Lydon stormed out twice, cursing museum workers. Eventually he took his seat, and Ms. Wintour came by to mollify him.

As glamorous and fun as the party was, as it is every year, you had a feeling that the British impulse toward anarchy — a desire to take the stuffing out of everything — had to prevail. Even the Americans could no longer contain themselves. At one point, the socialite Lauren Davis, sitting with Camilla al-Fayed, Ms. Cole and the designer Lazaro Hernandez, tapped Ms. Lohan on the shoulder.

"Tell me the next time you go to the ladies' room," Ms. Davis said. "I want to have a cigarette."

"I'm smoking at the table," Ms. Lohan said.

"I am, too," Ms. Davis answered. "But I just feel awful about it."

Well, really. Where will it end?

I'm only disappointed they didn't invite Johnny Vegas.