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How the Galliano Show at the Met Fell Apart

 

How the Galliano Show at the Met Fell Apart

 

Anna Wintour put her full power and prestige behind a designer convicted of an antisemitic hate crime. Behind the scenes, influential New Yorkers revolted.

 

By Jacob BernsteinVanessa Friedman and Dana Rubinstein

Sept. 2, 2026

Updated 3:05 p.m. ET

https://www.nytimes.com/2026/09/02/style/john-galliano-met-exhibition-cancel-anna-wintour.html

 

Early last month, Anna Wintour, the global editorial director of Vogue and powerful Metropolitan Museum of Art trustee, reached out to Julie Menin, the daughter of a Holocaust survivor and the first Jewish speaker of the New York City Council.

 

Over a 30-minute video call, Wintour tried to persuade Menin that honoring John Galliano, the fashion designer convicted of an antisemitic hate crime, with a solo exhibition in the Met’s Costume Institute was a good idea.

 

Galliano is a creative genius, Wintour said, according to Menin. And he is contrite about his previous rants against Jews — which included an exclamation of “I love Hitler!” and a taunting of patrons at a bar that their forefathers would all be “gassed.”

 

During the call, Wintour, who rules over the fashion world and the Met Gala with almost unquestioned authority, offered to have Galliano meet privately with Menin. She also, according to Wintour’s spokeswoman, discussed possible ways to mollify critics of the show, such as moving the date of the gala, changing its focus and opening the exhibition early for Jewish leaders.

 

Menin left the call feeling brushed off. Wintour had continued to exude confidence that the exhibition would be a success.

 

On Monday, that confidence collapsed, as the Met abruptly announced that the show was off.

 

The implosion of the most important event on the museum’s calendar, with its star-studded extravaganza that draws luminaries from the worlds of entertainment, art and industry and generates tens of millions of dollars each year, was a striking stumble for the 76-year-old Wintour, who has personally championed Galliano and prides herself on her unerring judgment and her astute assessment of art and fashion.

 

Wintour’s effort to elevate Galliano by bestowing on him the Costume Institute’s highest honor — only two living fashion designers have previously been celebrated with solo shows — touched off a tense drama that played out among New York’s powerful and prominent as they scattered to their vacations during a typically quiet stretch of August.

 

By pushing ahead with the plan, Wintour and other Met leaders appeared to misread some essential realities of the moment: The fashion world’s forgiving and commercially driven values do not often reflect broader public sentiment. The Met leaders, many of them non-Jewish, seemed out of touch with the raw feelings of the city’s Jewish residents, who had witnessed searing incidents of antisemitism over the summer. And even the extraordinary ability of Wintour to sweep away scandal, criticism and controversies through sheer will and decisiveness has its limits.

 

“It was a perfect storm of unnecessary insensitivity,” said Rabbi David Ingber, senior director of Jewish life and senior director of the Bronfman Center at the 92nd Street Y.

 

In a statement, a museum spokeswoman said of the Galliano show, “Like every Met exhibition, it proceeded through the museum’s established processes of curatorial development and institutional review, including with certain board groups.

 

But the blunder has touched off many hard questions about Wintour’s, and the Met’s, judgment.

 

Said Elisha Wiesel, chairman of the Elie Wiesel Foundation: “If praise for Hitler and references to the gas chamber do not disqualify someone, where is the line?”

 

Growing Concerns

At first, the museum’s leadership team seemed confident that the public would want to see the exhibition, despite Galliano’s past misdeeds. Fifteen years had gone by since he was found guilty by a French court of the hate crime.

 

After his conviction, Galliano went into rehab and apologized for his remarks against both Jews and Asians. He met with Jewish leaders and studied the history of Judaism under rabbis. Wintour supported him when he was persona non grata, and helped him become the creative director of a prestigious luxury brand, Maison Margiela, where his tenure was widely applauded until his departure in 2024.

 

As far as the fashion world was concerned, Galliano was back, reputation restored, and the Met had good reason to believe the show celebrating the 65-year-old designer would be a hit: Five of the 10 most-visited exhibitions in modern museum history have been Costume Institute shows, and over the years, Wintour has transformed the Met Gala from just another stuffy benefit into a spectacle akin to the Super Bowl or the Oscars. Since 1999, when she took over the event, it has brought in over $300 million for the Costume Institute, the Met’s fashion wing, including a record $42 million in 2026. Overall, Wintour has raised more than $500 million for the museum.

 

But even in late July, after The New York Times broke the news of the planned Galliano exhibition, there were early murmurs of opposition. Some of them emanated from members of the nearly 100-person Met board, who had long tolerated Wintour’s imperious manner, from her habit of wearing sunglasses at board meetings to her neglecting to invite many of them to the gala. They had stayed quiet in the past, even as they chafed at the increasingly carnival-like atmosphere she created, from the arrival of the Kardashians at the gala to ever more outrageous clothes on display.

 

Some prominent Jews, meanwhile, were unsettled by the news, but worried that if they spoke out, they would play into stereotypes.

 

“People didn’t want to seem like they were complaining,” said Alice Tisch, whose extended family has donated millions to the Met. “One of the trustees I talked to said, ‘I think they’ll take it out more on the Jews.’”

 

As a result, many people who disagreed with the plan hoped to work quietly toward a resolution, especially as both Wintour and Galliano assured them Galliano’s bigoted behavior was firmly in the past.

 

But then doubts about that claim surfaced.

 

Early in August, a Facebook post written by fashion publicist Lauren London began to ricochet around industry circles about a more recent event allegedly involving Galliano. London described an encounter she said she had with the designer in 2019 at the luxury Henri Chenot spa, an alcohol-free wellness retreat in Italy. She wrote that her friend had been speaking in Hebrew on her cellphone, when Galliano overheard her and began screaming, “Merry Christmas!”

 

“When my friend asked him if he had a problem with Hebrew he promptly and very unapologetically responded that he did,” London wrote in the post. “She then told him that she had a lot of his clothes and when she got back to her home in Israel she would dispose of them. He told her to please do.”

 

Still, even as the Facebook post gained traction, allies of Wintour were unmoved.

 

“I have no opinion about Facebook posts,” said Andrew Solomon, a member of the Met’s executive committee who spoke to The Times after the post surfaced last month. “I think they’re frequently made up, or exaggerated, or incoherent, and I have no idea what the truth is or is not behind that.”

 

Galliano later denied through a spokesman that the incident at the spa took place. But London’s friend who made the call, and her daughter, backed up her account.

 

Around the same time London wrote her post, Arne Glimcher, an art world titan, sent an email to David Breslin, a Met curator, and Max Hollein, who as the Met’s director had given final approval to the Galliano exhibition.

 

“I don’t think you have considered the cost of this action and its reverberations to come,” Glimcher wrote. He added that he and his wife were “seriously reconsidering other works that have been earmarked from our collection to the Met in our wills.”

 

It is not clear how Hollein responded, but his ties to Wintour were deep. And, as far as he understood, the museum had taken steps to head off just this kind of negative reaction. In the spring, Wintour and Andrew Bolton, the curator in charge of the Costume Institute, had arranged private meetings between Galliano and Jewish leaders. Most of those leaders came away saying they found him remorseful for his past actions. They were also assured that the exhibition would deal frankly with his hateful statements.

 

The Jewish leaders made their support public when the show was announced. But the full board of the Met was never consulted, leaving many feeling that there had not been sufficient deliberation about the appropriateness of the museum’s choice.

 

“I thought it was insane,” Tisch said.

 

Climate of Fear

On Aug. 14, a man entered Central Synagogue in Manhattan and attacked a congregant and a security guard during Shabbat services, rattling the city. The violence hit especially hard for many of the museum’s benefactors, who are congregants there. And it occurred as hate crime against Jews in New York continued to rise, representing the majority of all such crimes in the city.

 

Those already jolted by the Met’s decision to honor Galliano began to worry that the exhibit would serve to normalize antisemitism inside one of New York’s most hallowed spaces.

 

No longer was the fashion discussion occurring in a vacuum, but in an increasingly tense New York. As the days ticked by, city officials including Menin and City Comptroller Mark Levine, were growing fed up with the Met leaders’ failure to respond to their concerns. On Aug. 26, Menin wrote a letter of protest, on official city stationery.

 

“Our cultural institutions, particularly those that receive funding from the City of New York, have a responsibility to demonstrate that hatred and bigotry carry consequences,” Menin wrote to Wintour, Hollein and Bolton.

 

Two days later, Tisch fired off a message of her own to Hollein. In it, she described the plan for the exhibit as a “whitewash” of a “known” antisemite.

 

The exhibition, she went on to say, “bespeaks a failure of governance as it seems you are unduly influenced and directed by a corporate donor and commercial enterprise, and mining it all for financial gain.”

 

When Tisch didn’t hear back, she forwarded her email to people she knew on the board: Samantha Boardman, Daniel Brodsky, Dasha Zhukova Niarchos, Blair Effron — “anyone whose email address I happened to have,” she recalled.

 

(Board members interviewed for this article spoke on the condition of anonymity, because the museum’s leadership has been reprimanding trustees for sharing their concerns with the news media.)

 

On Friday, The Times published an article describing the intensifying backlash. Social media lit up with more criticism. A sense of crisis took hold inside the Met, even as the show’s key players were scattered around the globe — Hollein in his native Austria, Bolton in Lake Como, Galliano in his Paris studio.

 

The Met called an executive committee meeting for 8 a.m. on Monday, with a video conference of the entire board scheduled for 4 p.m.

 

But before they even met, Hollein, Bolton and Wintour agreed to a plan with Galliano: He would say publicly that he had asked the museum to suspend plans for the show.

 

At 8:45 a.m. Monday, he put out a statement on social media: “After much reflection and discussion with all those involved, I have decided, with great sadness, that it is best for the exhibition not to take place at this time,” he wrote.

 

“I do not want the debate surrounding me to place the Met in a difficult position or distract from the remarkable work of the Costume Institute,” he continued. “I also recognize and respect that an exhibition honoring my work would be painful for some.”

 

Almost 100,000 comments poured in, many praising Galliano and calling the outcome unfair, others denouncing the Met and Wintour for abandoning the show.

 

Back in New York, recriminations began. The afternoon meeting of the full Met board took place as scheduled over Zoom. It began with board leadership scolding members for talking to the news media, according to participants. When other members asked why they had not been consulted early on, they were told that the full board could not be included on every decision.

 

Hollein spoke of Galliano’s talent and the Met’s decision-making process. Wintour, who was also present on the video call, remained silent.

 

But that day, Vogue published an article about the canceled exhibition. The story did not detail the concerns about antisemitism, but it said the plan to honor Galliano had been met with “mixed reactions.”

 

Quoted in the article, Wintour praised Galliano as “the premiere couturier of his generation.” She also described the show not as canceled, but only “postponed.”

 

Jacob Bernstein reports on power and privilege for the Style section of The Times.

 

Vanessa Friedman has been the fashion director and chief fashion critic for The Times since 2014.

 

Dana Rubinstein covers New York City politics and government for The Times.

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The new Purdey season is here.

 

A Gentleman's London, Episode Twelve: Purdey

https://www.purdey.com/

 

James Purdey & Sons, or simply Purdey, is a British gunmaker based in London, England specialising in high-end bespoke sporting shotguns and rifles.[1][2] Purdey holds Royal Warrants of appointment as gun and rifle makers to the British and other European royal families.

 

History

 

James Purdey & Sons Ltd. in Audley House on South Audley Street, in London's Mayfair

 

Four-barreled pistol of Henry Pelham-Clinton, 4th Duke of Newcastle made by James Purdey

James Purdey was born in Whitechapel in 1784, and apprenticed to his brother-in-law, Thomas Keck Hutchinson. After completing his training, he worked for both Joseph Manton and Rev. Alexander Forsyth, before establishing his own company in London, England, in 1814, locating his business on Princes Street, now Wardour Street, near Leicester Square.

 

In 1826, the company moved from Princes Street to Manton's former premises at 314-315 Oxford Street. Due to a conflict of numbering, the business used the address ‘314½ Oxford Street’ from 1827.  Due to a conflict of numbering, the business used the address ‘314½ Oxford Street’ from 1827. 

 

The founder's son, James Purdey the Younger, took over the company's running from his father in 1858. James the Younger saw rapid change in the development and design of guns and rifles during his lifetime, essentially moving from muzzle loading flintlocks in the 1820s to breech loading hammerless ejectors by the 1890s. James the Younger was always at the forefront of advances in designing and building his guns and rifles and took out several patents for technical innovations over the years. These included the famous ‘Purdey Bolts’ locking system, and his concealed third bite. Both remain in production today, and may other gunmakers also adopted these designs as well.

 

In 1878 James the Younger took two of his sons into the business, renaming it James Purdey & Sons. In 1882, the company moved from Oxford Street to new premises at 57-58 South Audley Street, on the corner with Mount Street, where the company remains today. James the Younger designed this building to accommodate his showroom and the factory, and later, the building provided living quarters for James' family. The City of Westminster unveiled a memorial plaque on the shop at 57-60 South Audley Street on 30 April 1992.

 

Purdey introduced their self-opening hammerless gun in 1880. Designed by Frederick Beesley, a former Purdey craftsman, his hammerless self-opening mechanism uses one limb of a V-spring to operate the internal hammers and the other to operate the self-opening feature. This action was modified in 1888 through the incorporation of William Wem’s ejector design. Apart from occasional refinement and the optional single trigger mechanism, very little change has subsequently been made to the design of the side-by-side gun.

 

In 1900, Athol Purdey took over from his father and ran the business through the prosperous Edwardian years, as well as supervising Purdey's manufacturing of sniper rifles and aerial gunnery sights for the War Office during World War I. Athol's sons, James and Tom, both of whom had served in France, joined the firm in the 1920s.