Machine Gun Kelly is the man of the hour in New York, with the rollout of his new Hulu documentary, Life in Pink, prompting the 32-year-old to engage in the usual public relations stunts. Red carpets! Empire State Building photo-op! Smashing through champagne bottles! Er, wait.
During his premiere afterparty at Madison Square Garden on June 28, MGK inexplicably crushed a champagne bottle over his precious, pink-haired noggin, bloodying that million-dollar mug and his sequined shirt.
Actually, let’s pause here and review the ‘fit.
Before he left for the party, MGK grabbed coffee in a pink version of the baggy chain pants he Barbie & Ken’d with Megan Fox the previous night.
This time, however, he remembered to actually button his pants.
That eve, he pulled on an eye-watering coat printed with multi-colored tiger stripes and embroidered with enough rhinestones to make a QVC-shoppin’ granny blush.
Beneath, the aforementioned sparkly shirt, some rubberized pants — perfect for New York’s humid, 78°F weather — and black boots.
Especially with the treasure chest of rings, chains, necklaces, and earrings that permanently ensconce MGK’s extremities, it has the feel of someone taking a swing at a Big Fit without really caring that much about what actually makes a Big Fit, though none of the other options he laid out for the show were much better.
That brings us to the bottle incident, of which there are some blurry photos and Instagram Stories from the event.
It looks like MGK got so into performing for his pals that he simply smashed the bottle over his head in the moment, as you do.
For a guy whose music is pretty poppy — I’m not an impartial critic here but can only describe it as a mix between Kidz Bop Blink-182 and post-Soundcloud sobcore — MGK sure plays up the bad boy persona, as evidenced by his edgy stage name and edgier tattoos, of which my favorite is probably his Banksy because, damn, really makes you think.
I suppose it’s more palatable than the outfit, at least.
And I say that as someone who didn’t really mind the baggy pants from the other day, dangling chains and bulbous Rick Owens shoes aside. Maybe next time?