Barbara Palvin’s US Open arrival was anything but expected—her powder-blue pajama set blurred the line between loungewear and red carpet irreverence.
Barbara Palvin knows how to play with fashion’s boundaries—and at the 2025 US Open Tennis Championships in New York City, she served a look that felt equal parts comfort and couture. While others leaned into sporty tailoring or classic Americana, Palvin walked the red carpet in what could only be described as sleepwear reimagined for the spotlight.
Her outfit: a light blue, subtly checkered two-piece that mimicked the silhouette of traditional pajamas. The long-sleeved top hung loose with a relaxed collar and button-down front, while the matching shorts offered a breezy counterpoint—structured enough to hold shape, soft enough to suggest she might’ve just rolled out of bed. The fabric appeared lightweight, likely cotton or a silk-blend poplin, catching the late summer light with a matte finish.
On her feet, white heeled shoes added a deliberate clash—elevating the look from ironic to editorial. It’s the kind of styling choice that says, “Yes, I know what I’m doing.” No jewelry was visible, and the accessories were kept minimal, allowing the outfit’s subversive charm to take center stage.
Her hair, long and wavy, was pulled back into a ponytail—neat, but not overly polished. The makeup leaned natural, with a soft glow and neutral tones that complemented the pastel palette. The overall mood? Playful, confident, and just a touch rebellious.
Palvin’s pose—mid-stride, phone in hand—felt candid yet composed. The backdrop of city buildings, greenery, and a black vehicle added urban grit to the otherwise whimsical ensemble. It’s a look that could’ve flopped in less capable hands, but on Palvin, it read as a clever nod to the rise of elevated loungewear in celebrity style .
Lily James brought architectural elegance to TIFF’s Getty Studio—her asymmetrical skirt and layered neutrals felt like a Bauhaus sketch reimagined for 2025.
There’s a quiet thrill in watching an actress known for romantic period dramas pivot into something sharper, more sculptural. At the Getty Images Portrait Studio during the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival, Lily James did just that—trading corsets and chiffon for a look that felt like it was carved from shadow and light.
Her outfit, a study in tonal layering, centered on a structured grey top with long sleeves and a subtle sheen. The fabric—possibly a wool-silk blend—held its shape with architectural intent, framing her shoulders and torso like a minimalist armor. Beneath it, a white blouse peeked out, softening the silhouette with a hint of classic tailoring.
But the real punctuation came from the skirt: dark grey, asymmetrical, and slit high to reveal a lighter inner panel and black tights. The contrast wasn’t loud—it was deliberate. The black trim traced the hem like a line drawing, adding graphic tension to an otherwise fluid composition. It’s the kind of skirt that moves like a sculpture in motion.
Accessories were kept minimal but intentional. A decorative necklace added a touch of metallic glint, catching the soft indoor lighting that bathed the beige walls and arched window behind her. Her hair, long and brown, fell naturally around her shoulders, while her makeup leaned neutral—earthy tones, brushed brows, and a muted lip that let the outfit speak.
Lorde’s DAZED cover is a moody collision of texture and tension—think post-apocalyptic glamour with a dash of suburban decay, all wrapped in burgundy.
Leave it to Lorde to turn a concrete wall and a pile of dry leaves into a fashion altar. For DAZED Magazine’s Autumn 2025 “Uncensored Issue,” the New Zealand artist trades pop mystique for raw, grounded provocation—lying supine against a weathered backdrop, her gaze locked and unflinching.
The outfit is a masterclass in tactile contradiction. A deep burgundy coat—textured, almost mossy in its visual weight—drapes across her torso like armor. It’s oversized but not shapeless, structured yet undone. Beneath it, black shorts peek out, slicing the silhouette with utilitarian sharpness. The midriff exposure feels deliberate, not accidental—a flash of vulnerability in an otherwise fortified look.
Is this couture’s answer to climate anxiety? Or just Lorde reminding us that celebrity fashion doesn’t need a red carpet to provoke?
