Amanda Seyfried’s Vogue Australia February 2026 editorial explores creative trust, spiritual embodiment, and the messy beauty of collaboration.
In Vogue Australia’s February 2026 issue, Amanda Seyfried sits beside Mona Fastvold, both in black tops, one layered with a checkered dress. The setup is simple. Neutral background, wooden chairs, no distractions. Just two women who built something together.
The shoot and interview orbit around The Testament of Ann Lee , a film that pushed Seyfried into new territory. She sings, screams, shakes — not for effect, but from somewhere deeper. The role demanded presence, not performance. And Fastvold gave her the space to find it. “You can rip off all your figurative clothes,” Seyfried says, “and really go into the unknown.”
Their conversation is loose, warm. They talk about attic parties in Williamsburg, about Leos Carax and Nina Hoss, about writing scenes at a breakfast-stained kitchen table. Seyfried calls Mamma Mia! a turning point, but it’s Ann Lee that feels like a spiritual one. “I wanted to bring that story to life with you,” she tells Fastvold.
The film itself is textured — grief, movement, hymns, intuition. Seyfried’s performance is described as staggering. But what lingers is the trust. “I felt that you had my back,” Fastvold says. That’s the tone they set. Messy, maternal, fearless.
This editorial isn’t about fashion. It’s about what happens when two artists stop pretending and start listening.
Mckayla Twiggs wore a white strapless romper with sheer black tights to the 2026 Universal Music Group Grammy Afterparty in Los Angeles.
At the Universal Music Group’s 2026 Grammy Afterparty at NYA WEST in Los Angeles, Mckayla Twiggs took the black carpet in a look that fused youthful bluntness with studio-glow slickness. It was compact. Purposeful. A little bratty—because it should be.
She wore a white strapless romper , buttoned at the bust and punctuated with symmetrical gold-tone zippers like something pulled from 2010s Frank Ocean visuals or mall-core’s rejected chic twin. The tailoring hugged at the ribs, then relaxed slightly through the hips—clean but not restrictive. The playsuit cut said “I’m not freezing,” even while the sheer black tights underneath said, “I definitely am.” That’s balance.
Her shoes: patent black heels , sharp toe, with a slim ankle strap barely visible behind the sheen of hosiery. Nothing ornamental. Just movement. Her hair , soft and parted down the center, fell in loose waves past her shoulders—glamorous, sure, but not trying to prove it. Makeup stayed youthful: flushed cheeks, fresh brow, a glossed mauve-pink lip, lined just enough to matter.
She skipped a clutch altogether. Smart call. The outfit didn’t need interruption. The overall tone? Like she drifted out of a photoshoot and landed, perfectly unfazed, into a media event . There was no hard posing, just presence.
The fashion verdict ? Tight, edited, fast. Mckayla kept it light—sharp enough to cut through the noise, soft enough not to get stuck in it.
Rachel Sennott wore a halter-neck purple dress and pale heels on the Perfect Magazine February 2026 cover photographed by Yasmine Diba.
For the Perfect Magazine #10 February 2026 cover, Rachel Sennott brought chaos, glamour, and a box wrench. Styled for maximum disruption by photographer Yasmine Diba, Sennott appears sprawled (on purpose) beneath the bumper of a classic white Cadillac, wearing a wind-whipped purple halter dress that might be couture or might be stolen from a prom queen in an indie comedy.
The dress, which lifts and folds around her legs like fabric caught mid-spin, features a bold halter neckline and flared mini skirt that reveals more street than silk. The material—likely taffeta or silk faille—catches natural daylight with soft reflectivity in a way that says shot in real light, not cleaned in post . A single dramatic fold at her side adds structure to what at first glance looks like chaos. But the chaos is constructed.
The heels— pale pink slip-ons with clean straps and thin stiletto base—feel like a dare. She’s holding a wrench, after all. The mismatch is deliberate. The sexy tool girl treatment—done without oil smudges or cleavage pander—is cut through with irony sharp enough to glint off chrome.
Hair is down, soft waves, not quite brushed out. A natural flush in the cheeks pushes realism, then collides with a wide-eyed expression looking somewhere between dramatics and dazed cool. There’s a hint of 2000s Los Angeles here—but it’s filtered through irony and updated with the post-post-post-feminist filter that knows you get dirty while being hot, not because you’re hot.
The fashion verdict ? Off-kilter, bold, and a little absurd—intentionally so. Rachel’s cover isn’t just styled—it’s staged like a punchline in stiletto timing.
