I was about a quarter of my way through a post on Beyoncé’s modern Botticelli waves and incandescent, otherworldly skin reminiscent of the Italian painter’s "Madonna della Loggia" currently hanging in the Uffizi Gallery. (The next-level makeup by Sir John was amazing, BTW.) Then Adele’s tribute to George Michael happened…and it brought the Grammy Awards solidly back down to Earth. Not all of us can walk on water as consistently as Queen Bey—we're only human, including the inimitable Adele.
Tonight she proved that shit happens—sometimes in front of your most esteemed peers and the entire world watching live. Life isn’t always an impeccably choreographed dance where your bum-grazing, platinum waves blow perfectly on cue. There are times when you’ll sing off key regardless of being the most talented person in the room. There will be instances when things will go radically wrong despite your best efforts to prepare and avoid the pitfalls. Adele proved that it’s okay—if not commendable—to admit that you fucked up and start over. “I’m sorry I’m swearing and I’m sorry for starting again. I just can’t mess this up for him,” said the star referring to the late music legend.
But there was nothing to be sorry for. If anything, Adele’s performance was what so many of us needed right now. Like the heartfelt lyrics to “Hello” (which took home Song of the Year), it’s Adele’s honesty and vulnerability that fans around the globe relate to and love. (Remember when she kicked off her heels on stage at The Royal Albert Hall? Yes girl, we feel you.) In today’s world, where 99.9% of what we see on social media is an illusion and people can curate and layer a flattering filter over their lives (eliminating any and all of those messy moments not worthy of an Instagram story or Snapchat), it was refreshing to see someone being real for once.
May Adele’s mishap serve as an important reminder that we’re all, as Prince noted in “Let’s Go Crazy" (performed tonight by Bruno Mars), trying “to get through this thing called life,” so forgive yourself for not slaying every single second of it. Don’t be afraid to pour yourself a stiff drink (preferably from a Swarovski-studded flask similar to the one Rihanna hung onto for dear life), drop a few F bombs, shed some tears, then reapply your winged liner and start again.