Invitations, or Not

The Devil on Screen, the King and Queen in Person

It’s the weekend before the Met.

If you didn’t see my post from this time last year, scroll back. I wrote about not being invited to the Met. I’m not going to repeat it here, but I’m still very comfortable with it. If you’re new, take a look at my Substack feed and scroll back. It’s a good excuse to browse. There’s a year’s worth of thoughts there.

What I want to talk about now is invitations more broadly.

If you scroll a little further, you’ll also find a post I wrote about the internal monologue I have whenever an invite comes in:

Should I go?
I won’t go.
Maybe I’ll go.
I’m going.
I’m not going.

Back and forth. Every time. I struggle with invitations. With events. With the idea of showing up.

I’ve said this before. I’m basically a shy guy. In certain social settings, I can freeze up, so it’s easier not to go. And the truth is, I’ve made peace with it. There’s comfort in opting out.

This weekend, there are many pre-Met events. After-parties. Private dinners. The kind of invitations that people who love this world would jump at. I’ve received a handful of them, including one from a very high-powered couple for a private pre-event.

I’m not going. Not because I can’t. Not because I wasn’t included. Just because I don’t want to.

And it doesn’t mean I don’t like the people going or the people who invited me. That matters. A no isn’t a rejection; it’s just a choice.

I’ve learned something about myself over time. For every moment when I think I should go, because it’s important, rare, or impressive, there’s usually a quieter voice beneath saying I’ll be happier not going.

I remember being in Paris during Fashion Week. There was a major magazine launch party. I wasn’t planning to go, but one of the co-hosts pushed me: “Get out of your shell. Have fun.”

So I went. I stayed for 15 minutes. The only part I enjoyed was getting back to my hotel room.

There’s also the dynamic of going alone. At most of these events, I’m solo. No built-in comfort, no wing person. I remember arriving at the black-tie 50th-anniversary Ralph Lauren fashion show in Central Park. I spotted someone I’m close to, someone who thrives in these settings, and immediately gravitated toward them.

But it wasn’t the same.

Different setting, different energy. The familiarity didn’t translate as I expected. That’s not on them; it’s just how these spaces work. I’ve learned that context changes the relationship. What feels easy in one environment doesn’t always carry over to another.

And I’m not immune to the other side of this either.

I’ll see friends out to dinner on social, people I care about, and I’ll wonder why I wasn’t invited. And then, when I am invited, I don’t want to go. It’s contradictory. A little irrational. But it’s real.

On the flip side, we do a lot of work around events at CFDA, and not everyone can be invited every time. Please don’t take it personally. The invite list is usually carefully considered, with attention to space, balance, timing, and who needs to be in the room for that particular moment. It’s rarely arbitrary, and it’s never about someone’s worth.

With Grace Coddington at the King’s Trust reception for Their Majesties, The King and Queen of the United Kingdom

To be clear, it’s not all one way. There are events that are genuinely special, and I feel lucky to be part of them. This week, for example, King Charles III and Queen Camilla visited New York, and I was invited to an event celebrating cultural exchange. I even shook the King’s hand. How cool is that?

I was also invited to two private advance screenings of The Devil Wears Prada 2, one of which allowed me to bring a friend, and that one, in some ways, felt like the better night. And the Tory Burch Foundation founders breakfast this week, another moment that felt meaningful and worth showing up for.

So yes, I decline some invitations. For others, I don’t take them for granted. Where does that leave me? Somewhere simpler, actually.

Invitations are not validation. Attendance is not a measure of worth. Missing something is not the same as being left out.

Saying no, quietly and confidently, is not failure. It’s just knowing yourself.

This weekend, there will be rooms I’m not in. Conversations I’m not part of. Photos I won’t be in the background of. And I’m okay with that. I hope those who invited me are, too.

Wherever you are, whether out, in, invited, or not invited, you’re exactly where you need to be.

With Nicole Phelps at The Vogue Book Club screening of The Devil Wears Prada 2