Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce: Let Them Eat Cake

All of Hollywood is on the edge of its seat, waiting for me to weigh in on the big questions from the holiday weekend.

Is Richard Rushfield upset that Blake and Ryan weren’t invited?

Was he excited that Adam Sandler officiated?

But I’m only interested in one question about Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce’s extravagant wedding at New York’s Madison Square Garden:

Has the entire artistic class lost its freaking mind?

If Hollywood keeps this up, we are potentially standing at the brink of a revolt against the elites and the privileged like the world hasn’t seen in 100 years — and our “tastemakers” think that this is the moment to crank up their Marie Antoinette act?

Okay, before Swifties swoop in and declare “off with his head!” — I am very happy when any couple finds and celebrates their love and union; they should celebrate it any way they want, be it a lavish wedding or a small affair. Black-tie chanting vespers at dawn or naked conga line down Wilshire Boulevard — I’m all for it.

I don’t actually care who was invited or wasn’t invited — and, hey, for all I know, Taylor and Steven Spielberg (one of the 1,000 guests to have attended) really are besties forever and talk on the phone all night about how they would rewrite the third act of Amistad if they could do it all over again…

But these celebrity weddings — see also the Jeff Bezos nuptials last summer — are beginning to feel more like casting than actual events. The guest lists are an idealized notion of who your closest friends are — or who you want the world to consider in your league.

Then there’s this:

When a private ceremony becomes an event for public consumption, when it dominates the entire culture to the point of eclipsing both the World Cup and the semiquincentennial, it is no longer just a joyous private affair (though it still may be). 

When you, say, hold it at the most famous arena in America, smack in the middle of the media capital of the world — when it is in honor of the world’s most skilled master of public relations, who controls every piece of information about her brand and can spend a year building up anticipation with a steady diet of leaked Easter eggs, it becomes a public event.

So, on the nuptials — I am thrilled for the bride and groom! Tell me where I can send them a Starbucks gift card.

But about the public spectacle, including the giveaway of Chanel purses as prizes and handing out literal desserts to screaming fans — well, I know Marie Antoinette has become something of a fashion icon in recent times, but do these folks remember how that story ends?

Fortunately, Taylor Swift’s wedding hasn’t ignited the powder keg that tears civilization apart. Nor has the World Economic Forum, the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, the Met Gala and this week’s billionaire summer camp, the Allen & Co. Sun Valley Conference.

But it feels like we’re getting close.