Movie’s biggest night proved that, if the story is about you, you don’t have to be an actress to go on stage to present

Anna Wintour and Anne Hathaway presenting. Screen shot: abc/YouTube

It was a surprise not only for the movie-making community, but also the fashion community. Anna Wintour was on the Oscar stage at the Dolby Theatre to present the Best Costume and Best Makeup and Hair awards. Ms Wintour has attended the Oscars presentation before, but never as a presenter. There she was, appearing not only as herself. but also as a former magazine editrix that supposedly inspired the character Miranda Priestly in the parodic The Devil Wears Prada. It soon became clear what she was there for. The media has called it “corporate cross-promotion”, but it was more than a mere plug; it was essentially a three-minute infomercial for The Devil Wears Prada 2. She appeared with Anne Hathaway, who acknowledged her presence as the fashion big-wig: “The most important people in fashion will be judging how one looks.” But Ms Wintour was both fashion police and movie promoter. Their onstage banter was largely one-sided, which befits the ice queen of Ms Wintour, who called Ms Hathaway “Emily”, not-so-subtly channeling Miranda Priestly by really being herself. A moment that became a high-gloss annex for Condé Nast too.

Appearing on stage at the Oscars is even a bigger win for the Brit than appearing at the BAFTAs’ which she never did. Ms Wintour always operated in the global arena of fashion and spectacle (such as Vogue World). But stepping onto the Oscars stage cements her as more than an editor, even more than a tastemaker. She’s now part of the mythology of Hollywood itself. This appearance dramatises the paradox of Wintour’s career: She’s a British figure who became the face of American fashion, and now she’s folded into Hollywood’s narrative machine. It’s a bigger win for her professionally because it’s not about national prestige, it’s about global presence. For her, home is wherever the camera is most present, most focused. She traipsed the same stage as movie legends. Who’d guess that someone who started her fashion career as a salesgirl in the legendary London store Biba in the swinging sixties would end up on the world’s largest stage for honouring the movies, not even that lass herself. Yet here she was, not just attending, but performing, leaning into her own legend—the culmination of a journey from a Kensington shop floor to the pinnacle of cultural myth-making.

Ms Wintour with sunglasses on to be more recognisable. Photo: Getty Images

Yet, for all the self-important mythology, the stage entry and the execution of her act were remarkably human. You saw an individual not in her prime. You saw, in the unnecessary close-ups of her, why she often wears sunglasses indoors and in the night. You saw fashion erasing the slow-motion mugging of the years. And the stage was clearly not her domain. The woman who once navigated the chaotic floor of Biba seemed momentarily defeated by the simple physics and placement of a Dolby microphone. She placed herself too far from it, her mouth seeking the mesh-capped baton as if a holy relic that might strike back. But in front of people who actually act, her aloof silence was audibly unnatural. When she ignored “Emily” asking her about the latter’s gown, she really sounded as if she was reading from a teleprompter: “And the nominees are…”, without the bite or disdain she was supposed to wield. It was a stark reminder that, while she has mastered the global arena of fashion show-and-tell, the technical soul of the stage remains a foreign country.

For a night about fashion too, it was surprising low-key for gown-watchers. It was as if all the actresses received a memo to tell them not to out-dress the Dame. Elle Fanning un-blotched in her Givenchy princess-y gown, Emma Stone safe and sound in Louis Vuitton, and Nicole Kidman poultry perfect as she Chanel-feathered herself at the waist and calf. They were all off-white gowns and there were more. You can’t resist wondering if the invitation had been handled by a dry cleaner with a sense of vengeance and a surplus of bleach. Or that Ms Wintour was to be the only one to look like she could have been an extra from My Fair Lady. Dressed by brand du jour Dior, she was in her usual silhouette: a lean, long-sleeved gown, this time with floral embroidery and a stone-heavy necklace, but threw on a lace jacket that looked like an abandoned kite project from the waist down. Even her co-presenter, in Valentino, was as well-dressed as Andy Sachs stumbling into the Runway wardrobe for the first time. Galling, if unsurprising, was Teyana Taylor in a spaghetti-strapped Chanel number with such amazing shagginess that an old Muppet might have shedded on her. Had arrangements been made so that Anna Wintour would steal the show and be a global visual asset?

Timothée Chalamet in innocent white. Photo: Getty Images

The most watched star of the evening was possibly the night’s biggest loser Timothée Chalamet. Dressed also in all virginal white, in a double-breasted suit and a pair of boots to effect a certain swagger, the vision of purity was hoping that his appearance could be a deliberate counterbalance to his reputation for being loose‑lipped. Yet, the very act of dressing so starkly pristine only heightened the scrutiny. It was a preemptive trick to make him look like a good boy (after insulting the world of high-art), only to look like a Cuban grandpa. However, in a night where gowns were muted and fashion felt subdued, his look became the canvas onto which everyone projected meaning. Host Conan O’Brien (thankfully without the opening look of a poor imitation of Amy Madigan in Weapons) made sure little Timmy did not forget that, beginning his routine with a joke directed at Mr Chalamet: “Security is extremely tight tonight. I just gotta mention that. I’m told there’s concerns about attacks from both the opera and ballet communities”. It was the exact moment the ping-pong campaign died. In the end, it was clear “no one cares” about him. He was snubbed of the best actor award. It was hard no to think that his actions and over-exposure cost Supreme Marty the Academy’s favour.

If the Oscars are meant to be a showcase for the alchemists of cinema, this year, it was also a platform for the most cunning marketers. To be sure, it has always been a high-level marketing activation for luxury brands. But in the final tally, the 98th Academy Awards will be remembered not for the films it honored, but for the institutions it surrendered. As Timothée Chalamet’s structural devotion to innocence collapsed into the background of a historic shut-out, the stage was made memorable by a woman who didn’t need an Oscar to command the space—she simply required a microphone and a release date. By the time the credits rolled on this ‘Vogue World’ production, the message was clear: in an event that tried to sync with the modern attention economy, fame, even unrelated to cinema, is enough. The Academy may have handed out golden statues, but the night was won by one May 1st marketing plan. It was a major yawn for cinema, but a triumph for the commercial flash. Anna Wintour sure knows how to make her mark. Like a beautiful drop of claret on white charmeuse.