Behold: She is coming soon.
When she hasn’t been working on her #secretproject with Steven Klein and getting chummy with Frank Ocean, Katy Perry and Sky Ferreira at the MET Gala (and showing up everyone in the building by actually knowing the definition of “punk”), Madonna has been working her minions to the bone preparing her upcoming MDNA Tour DVD, which was filmed in Miami last year—and it’s all finally coming together.
Madonna‘s recent arrival to the Instagram party has been delightfully weird, rule-breaking and, as is her usual M.O., rather iconic. (So much so, in fact, that each new upload seems to warrant another post here at MuuMuse.)
But in the past few days, the Queen of Pop has been doing more than just channeling Bettie Paige for Purim and stanning hard for Frida Kahlo, Marilyn Minter and Man Ray. No, she’s got something up her kimono sleeves: She’s going to tell us a secret — again.
If you’re anything like me, you might be sitting at home right now eating buffalo wings and wondering to yourself: Say, what’s Madonna doing tonight?
Don’t worry. Now that the Queen of Pop’s got Instagram, we know exactly what she’s doing with her Saturday night: Trying on a Bettie Page wig, applying a thick coat of scarlet lipstick and striking a pose for the camera. Stars–they’re just like us! (She looks fucking gorgeous, no? Those eyes! Like a dominatrix version of “Rain.”)
M’s been a straight-up Insta-holic ever since she joined the service a few weeks ago, posting dorky selfies and stanning hard for Frida Kahlo and Man Ray. In fact, she’s already gone so hard expressing her artsy self that she’s angered the Instagram Gods, receiving a strongly-worded email after Instagramming one of Man Ray’s nude photographs of his love, Lee Miller. But don’t worry–she Instagrammed that too.
Why? Because 30 years later, she’s still breaking all the rules.
EXPRESS YOUR SELFIE, DON’T REPRESS YOUR SELFIE.
Last night, Madonna joined Instagram.
And how did she choose to make her Instadebut? Sipping a martini. Staring daggers. Blunt bangs. Unimpressed. “Cheers, motherfuckers! I’m on Instagram.” And some dare to question her position on the throne?
Madonna on Instagram is a very, very good thing. I eagerly await the inevitable highly filtered photos of raw kale chip mid-morning snacks, Brahim‘s bare ass in the shower and “Who’s prettier?” comparison shots with Lourdes.
And in case you were wondering how many photos we’d have to sit through after the Queen of Everything’s first post until we got a gratuitous bathroom selfie…
Bow down to the Queen, bitches.
I’m not religious, but she makes me want to pray.
Several minutes after 10 PM, the lights dropped at the TD Garden in Boston on Tuesday night as a group of hooded priests huddled around a massive censer, praying quietly to themselves. Behind them, a giant cross with the words “MDNA” brightly burned on the screen. Slowly, the vessel–now smoking with incense–was hoisted into the air by a giant rope, eventually swinging madly just above the audience in the pit to the shrieks of both awe and actual terror below.
After more “Isaac”-like chanting from the priests, the MDNA cross behind them slowly split open to reveal a figure kneeling inside of a floating prayer room, hidden behind a white veil. As it drew closer into the stadium, the ever-familiar Act of Contrition began to pour into the speakers. “Oh my God.” A shiver ran through the crowd. “Oh my God.” we heard on repeat–or was it just the crowd? “Oh my God.”
Suddenly, the priests began to run across the stage. And just as quickly, the figure inside the chamber began to rise, grabbing at something and turning toward the sheet. The synthesizers of “Girl Gone Wild” blared into the speakers, the sheet turned to glass, and shattered. And there she was: Madonna–gun in hand–cocked, loaded and ready to go.