Every year on the first Monday in May, the Met Gala captures both imaginations and the news cycle. Celebrities of all stripes take to the Metropolitan Museum of Art for their annual fundraising fête benefitting The Costume Institute while showcasing opulent ensembles that embody each year’s theme.

This year’s theme, “Superfine: Tailoring Black Style,” was based on a book of the same name by scholar Monica L. Miller, which focused on “a cultural and historical examination of Black style over three hundred years through the concept of dandyism,” the Met shared. “Superfine” became “the first exhibition to focus on designers of color and only the second show dedicated to menswear,” The Hollywood Reporter wrote. And while the gorgeous styles on view as guests arrived were feats of fashion innovation, the best part was learning the stories behind them and the way they honored the legacy of Black style and design.

For example, several guests arrived embodying the style of legendary cabaret artist and performer Josephine Baker. The lauded performer became the toast of Paris from the time she arrived in the City of Lights from the United States in the 1920s, and was eventually so beloved she was known as “La Baker.” More importantly, though, she was an early 20th-century symbol of what Black women’s autonomy could look like, something she exercised not just as a civil rights activist but through the way she dressed, as CR Fashion Book writes.

Wearing an ensemble created by fashion designer Grace Wales Bonner, singer and actress FKA Twigs wore a bejeweled, 1920s-style gown with feather trim and feathered wrap that was explicitly inspired by Baker. As Twigs told Vogue, in Baker’s spirit, there was “space for glory and outrage, and that, I think, is what being a dandy is all about: Having the confidence to stand there and trigger and enlighten and confuse and amaze through style. There is no diamond that could have outshone the one inside Josephine’s chest.”

Rapper Megan Thee Stallion also wore a ponytail inspired by Baker, chronicled upon Baker’s appearance in Cuba in 1951; the rest of Megan’s look, by Michael Kors, was of a similarly 1950s glamour that Baker exuded.

Fashion historian Cassidy Zachary of the Dressed podcast also documented several looks of the night on her Instagram, sharing their relationship to fashion history, some of which are below.

Model Gigi Hadid appeared in a Miu Miu gown resembling one that Josephine Baker had worn, but the ensemble was actually a salute to the Black designer Zelda Wynn Valdes, according to Zachary. Valdes was “a designer beloved by sirens of the stage and screen. She was a true maestro of cut and fit with gowns that clung to the wearer’s curves like a second skin,” Zachary wrote. Hadid also discussed Valdes’s influence with Vogue Australia upon arriving, sharing that Valdes “grew up working in her uncle’s men’s tailoring shop, and really brought that to her own dressmaking shop in Washington Heights,” when she opened it in 1948. “She really took the art of tailoring that she learned and applied it to the female form.”

Actress Jodie Turner-Smith’s Burberry ensemble was inspired by a Black British equestrian named Selika Lazevski, “who lived during the Belle Époque in Paris and was photographed by Paul Nader in 1891,” as Burberry shared, according to Town & Country. Selika’s biography is much more of a mystery, however. As scholar Susanna Forrest wrote in The Paris Review, she had been looking for solid information about Lazevski for years, finding only semblances of facts. Among them, she writes, is that Lazevski “was a horsewoman who rode haute école [an “equestrian ballet”]—the most prestigious role for a female performer—at the fashionable Nouveau Cirque on the rue Saint-Honoré.” If this were true, she would have been “among the first women to undertake this most masculine and prestigious of equestrian sports as professionals,” Forrest continues. Turner-Smith embodying Lazevksi at the Met Gala gives Lazevksi an ongoing voice and presence.

Singer and actress Teyana Taylor worked with Oscar-winning costume designer Ruth E. Carter (Malcolm X, Black Panther, Amistad) to create an ensemble that incorporated several layers of Black fashion history, from the 19th century to the 1930s to the present. For starters, Taylor carried a whiskey stick, a walking stick often carried by 19th-century gentlemen that sometimes could be filled with a swig of liquor. Carter also created a zoot suit for Taylor, which was a suit reflective of Black and Latino culture in the 1930s and 1940s.

“With its super-sized shoulder pads, sprawling lapels and peg leg pants, the zoot suit grew out of the ‘drape’ suits popular in Harlem dance halls in the mid-1930s,”Smithsonian Magazine shared. “By the ’40s, the suits were worn by minority men in working-class neighborhoods throughout the country.” The zoot suit became a powerful example of street shaping the fashion industry instead of the other way around. That it did this as a style pushed forward by people of color at the time was even more groundbreaking. Carter and Taylor added a durag to the ensemble, bringing it further into the modern era. The look overall was a nod to Taylor’s Harlem roots.

Vogue writer Christian J. Allaire also brought history into his ensemble, which was a custom suit by Indigenous designer Justin Jacob Louis. Louis and Allaire were influenced by the book Black Indians by William Loren Katz, a history of “the Native American and African American alliance that for four centuries challenged the European conquest and slavery.” Allaire, who chronicled his own relationship to fashion as an Ojibwe writer in his book From the Rez to the Runway: Forging My Path in Fashion, wrote on Instagram that images in Black Indians of “Black-Ojibwe men wearing the most beautiful and slick suits, some adorned with beadwork” inspired his look, which was a “three-piece pinstriped suit [that] features Indigenous-style beadwork throughout.”

So while it’s exciting to see some of the brightest stars of the entertainment, design, and media worlds converge on what was this year a blue carpet, sometimes the most exciting part is what you don’t see. But that’s really the point–to honor the past in the present and tell a story, through fashion, about how we became who we are.

  • Italian man claims to be ‘human cheetah’ with lightning-fast reflexes
    Photo credit: CanvaA man with fast reflexes.

    At first glance, this probably looks like a camera trick. Ken Lee, an Italian content creator, has built a massive online following by doing something that doesn’t quite feel real. Viewers refer to him as the “human cheetah” because it appears he has near-instant reflexes.

    Grabbing objects out of the air with uncanny precision, flicking clothespins and lighters, and throwing a blur of punches and kicks at impossible speeds, it is easy to call him unbelievable. Half the audience thinks his viral speed videos are fake. The other half is just as convinced they are watching something incredibly rare.

    Hands so fast they blur time

    In the video above, a timer runs to confirm its authenticity. In what looks like half a second, he reaches out and snags the lighter from the table. To prove it is real, he does it twice.

    Having amassed millions of followers on his TikTok page, the identity behind the mysterious influencer remains largely unknown. Active since around 2022, with almost 100 million accumulated likes, Lee has cultivated a fandom around his self-proclaimed “Superhero per Hobby!”

    Do you believe it is real? Is this person the fastest human alive? Many followers cannot wait for the next video to be posted. Plenty of his fervent fans are Italian, so sifting through the remarks takes a bit of hunting. Here are some comments that sum up how much people enjoy the fun and the spectacle:

    “Ken lee the fastest and the best”

    “Most dangerous human”

    “Is this what the lighter sees before my homie steals it”

    “It was sped up during he grabbed the lighter, if u count up with the timer u would be off by like 0,5 seconds whenever he grabs the lighter.”

    “If the flash were human”

    “How is it possible to get such powers ?”

    “I blinked and I missed it”

    People love good entertainment

    The awe of peak performance attracts people to watch elite athletes, musicians, or even dancers. There is something that deeply satisfies all of us when a human appears to push a skill to its limit. Whether it is real or fake seems to matter less than the opportunity to chime in on some good entertainment.

    How far could any of us go by practicing and repeating a particular motion over and over until it is mastered? Beneath the flashy nickname and his viral speed videos, Lee’s content has a way of drawing people in. This is not a superpower. Just repetition. Focus. Obsession. And maybe some digital wizardry.

    Testing the science of speed

    If you wish to question the validity of Lee’s performances, maybe some basic science can help. Human reaction time is not just a reflex. A 2024 study found that the nervous system can fine-tune responses in real time. Practice can make movements appear almost automatic.

    It has been well established in research that the gap between seeing something and responding has a limit. A 2025 study concluded that the most elite extremes allow for reaction times of 100 milliseconds. At that speed, the human brain can barely process that something has happened.

    Science explains Lee is not necessarily moving as fast as we might perceive him to be. And therein lies all the fun of it. We cannot prove it is real, nor can we actually prove that it is fake.

    Maybe Lee is the “fastest man alive” or the so-called “human cheetah.” Or maybe he is just a remarkable entertainer. Either way, he has clearly tapped into something strange and fascinating: a blend of human ability and fantasy that people do not want to miss.

    To give context to Lee’s videos, watch this performance on Tú Sí Que Vales:

  • Despite all the likes, literallys and dropped g’s, English isn’t decaying before our eyes
    Photo credit: LisaStrachan/iStock via Getty Images Fear not: There isn’t anything that needs saving.

    As a linguistics professor, I’m often asked why English is decaying before our eyes, whether it’s “like” being used promiscuouslyt’s being dropped deleteriously or “literally” being deployed nonliterally.

    While these common gripes point to eccentric speech patterns, they don’t point to grammatical annihilation. English has weathered far worse.

    Let’s start with something we can all agree on: Old English, spoken from approximately A.D. 450 to 1100, is pretty unintelligible to us today. Anyone who’s had the pleasure of reading “Beowulf” in high school knows how different English back then used to sound. Word endings did a lot more grammatical work, and verbs followed more complicated patterns. Remnants of those rules fuel lingering debates today, such as when to use “whom” over “who,” and whether the past tense of “sneak” is “snuck” or “sneaked.”

    The language went on to experience centuries of tumult: Viking invasions, which introduced Old Norse influence; Anglo-Norman French rule, which shifted the language of the elite to French; and 18th-Century grammarians, who dictated norms with their elocution and grammar guides.

    In that time, English has lost almost all of the more complex linguistic trappings it was born with to become the language we know and – at least, sometimes – love today. And as I explain in my new book, “Why We Talk Funny: The Real Story Behind Our Accents,” it was all thanks to the way that language naturally evolves to meet the social needs of its speakers.

    From dropping the ‘l’ to dropping the ‘g’

    The things we tend to label as “bad” or sloppy English – for instance, the “g” that gets lost from our -ing endings or the deletion of a “t” when we say a word like “innernet” – actually reflect speech habits that are centuries old.

    Take, for example, “often.” Originally spoken with the “t,” that pronunciation gradually became less favored around the 15th century, alongside that “l” in “talk” and the “k” in know. Meanwhile, the “s” now stuck on the back of verbs like “does” and “makes” began as a dialectal variant that only became popular in 16th-century London. It gradually replaced “th” whenever third persons were involved, as in “The lady doth protest too much.”

    While dropping the “l” in talk may have been initially frowned upon, today it would be strange if you pronounced the letter. And the shift makes sense: It smoothed out some linguistic awkwardness for the sake of efficiency.

    If people learned to look at language more like linguists, they might come around to seeing that there is more than one perspective on what good speech consists of.

    And yes, that absolutely is a sentence ending with a preposition – something many modern grammar guides discourage, even though the idea only took hold after 18th-century grammarian Robert Lowth intimated it was a less elegant choice based on the model of Latin.

    Though Lowth voiced no hard and fast rule against it, many a grammar maven later misconstrued his advice as an admonition. Just like that, a mere suggestion became grammatical law.

    The rise of the grammar sticklers

    Many of today’s ideas about what constitutes correct English are based on a singular – often mistaken – 19th-century view of the forces that govern our language.

    In the late 18th century, the English-speaking world began experiencing class restructuring and higher literacy rates. As greater class mobility became possible, accent differences became class markers that separated new money from old money.

    Emulation of upper-crust speech norms became popular among the nouveau riche. With literacy also on the rise, grammarians and elocutionists raced to dictate the terms of “proper” English on and off the page, which led to the rise of usage guides and dictionaries that were eager to sell a certain brand of speech.

    Another example of grammarian angst reconfiguring the view of an otherwise perfectly fine form is the droppin’ of the “g.” It became so tied to slovenly speech that it was branded with an apostrophe in the 19th century to make sure no one missed its lackadaisical and nonstandard nature.

    Up until the 19th century, however, no one seemed to care whether one pronounced it as “-in” or “-ing.”

    Evidence suggests that -ing wasn’t even heard as the correct form. Many elocution guides from the 18th century provide rhyming word pairs like “herring/heron,” “coughing/coffin” and “jerking/jerkin,” which suggest that “-in” may have been the preferred pronunciation of words ending with “-ing.” Even writer and satirist Jonathan Swift – a frequent lobbyist for “proper” English – rhymes “brewing” with “ruin” in his 1731 poem “Verses on the Death of Dr. Swift, D.S.P.D..”

    Embrace the change

    Language has always shifted and evolved. People often bristle at changes from what they’ve known to what is new. And maybe that’s because this process often begins with speakers that society usually looks less favorably on: the young, the female, the poor, the nonwhite.

    But it’s important to remember that being disliked and bad are not the same thing – that today’s speech pariahs are driven by the same linguistic and social needs as the Londoners who started going with “does” instead of “doth” or dropped the “t” in often.

    So if you think the speech that comes from your lips is the “correct” version, think again. Thou, like every other English speaker, art literally the product of centuries of linguistic reinvention.

    This article originally appeared on The Conversation. You can read it here.

  • 10 boys and 10 girls were left alone in separate houses and the different results are just wild
    Photo credit: Ian Taylor PhotographerTwo young children play in the grass.

    It sounds like the plot of William Golding’s Lord of the Flies. However, in the mid-2000s, it was a very real and very controversial reality television experiment.

    Footage from the UK Channel 4 documentary Boys and Girls Alone is captivating audiences all over again. It offers a fascinating and chaotic look at what happens when you remove parents from the equation.

    The premise was simple but high stakes. Twenty children, aged 11 and 12, were split into two groups by gender. Ten boys and ten girls were placed in separate houses and told to live without adult supervision for five days.

    The Setup

    While there were safety nets in place, the day-to-day living was entirely up to the kids. A camera crew was present but instructed not to intervene unless safety was at risk. The children could also ring a bell to speak to a nurse or psychiatrist.

    The houses were fully stocked with food, cleaning supplies, toys, and paints. Everything they needed to survive was there. They just had to figure out how to use it.

    The Boys: Instant Chaos

    In the boys’ house, the unraveling was almost immediate. The newfound freedom triggered a rapid descent into high-energy anarchy.

    They engaged in water pistol fights and threw cushions. In one memorable instance, a boy named Michael covered the carpet in sticky popcorn kernels just because he could.

    The destruction eventually escalated to the walls. The boys covered the house in writing, drawing, and paint. But the euphoria of freedom eventually crashed into the reality of consequences.

    “We never expected to be like this, but I’m really upset that we trashed it so badly,” one boy admitted in the footage. “We were trying to explore everything at once and got too carried away in ourselves.”

    Their attempts to clean up were frantic and largely ineffective. Nutrition also took a hit. Despite having completed a cooking course, the boys survived mostly on cereal, sugar, and the occasional frozen pizza. By the end of the week, the house was trashed, and the group had fractured into opposing factions.

    The Girls: Organized Society

    The girls’ house looked like a different planet.

    In stark contrast to the mayhem next door, the girls immediately established a functioning society. They organized a cooking roster, with a girl named Sherry preparing their first meal. They baked cakes. They put on a fashion show. They even drew up a scrupulous chores list to ensure the house stayed livable.

    While their stay wasn’t devoid of interpersonal drama, the experiment highlighted a fascinating divergence in socialization. Left to their own devices, the girls prioritized community and maintenance. The boys tested the absolute limits of their environment until it broke.

    The documentary was controversial when it aired, with critics questioning the ethics of placing children in unsupervised situations for entertainment. But what made it so enduring, and why footage keeps resurfacing years later, is what it reveals about how kids are socialized long before anyone puts them in a house together. The boys weren’t born anarchists and the girls weren’t born organizers. They arrived at those houses already shaped by years of being told, implicitly and explicitly, what boys do and what girls do. Whether that’s a nature story or a nurture story is the question the documentary keeps asking without quite answering, which is probably why people are still watching and arguing about it nearly two decades later.

    This article originally appeared two years ago. It has been updated.

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