Dakota Johnson wore a black fringed suede coat and carried a leopard tote bag while heading to dinner in Los Angeles on January 22, 2026.
The restaurant hum is low, amber lights soft. Dakota Johnson steps in quietly, one hand wrapped around a large leopard‑print tote . She wears a long fringed suede coat — the Officine Generale Joyce Fringed Suede Coat , to be precise — its dark tone absorbing the bar’s glow . The coat hangs loosely over wide black trousers , an outfit that drifts between polished and undone.
There’s a relaxed kind of rhythm to her movement — someone comfortable bridging art‑house minimalism and California ease. Her hair falls unstyled around her shoulders, bangs light across her brows. No flash of color, no overdone elements. Just a whisper of silver on her fingers — likely the Sophie Buhai Nautilus Ring — catching the faint reflection of a wine glass somewhere off‑frame.
Leigh-Anne Pinnock fronts Music Week’s February 2026 issue, reflecting on identity, independence, and her solo debut.
The February 2026 issue of Music Week places Leigh-Anne Pinnock in sharp focus. On the cover she raises her arms, cropped white top and gray shorts, the headline blunt: “I’m killing off a version of myself.” It’s not styled for glamour. It’s direct, almost stripped down, a gesture of release.
Inside, the story stretches. Her debut album My Ego Told Me To is framed as rebirth. She speaks of dismantling an old self, summoning an alter ego that carries fire, confidence, refusal. The magazine outlines her independence—her own imprint, Made In The 90s Ltd, partnered with Virgin Music Group. The autonomy is emphasized again and again. Quotes from her team, Tap Music and Virgin executives, underline the rarity of such control in today’s industry.
The interview digs into identity. She recalls her years in Little Mix, the struggle of being “one quarter of something,” the difficulty of asserting her Blackness in a group with a largely white fanbase. She admits to phases of trying on roles—“the sexy one,” short dresses, hairstyles claimed and reclaimed. Over time, she realized the need to carve out her own space. Brazilian fans chanting her name gave her a sense of visibility she hadn’t felt before. That moment, she says, shifted her confidence.
There’s also politics. She reflects on race, on the fading momentum of diversity pledges after 2020, on the need to use her platform for more than music. She mentions campaigns, documentaries, and the Black Fund she co-founded with Andre Gray. The tone is not bitter, but weary, aware of cycles of attention and neglect.
The visuals match the words. One page shows her with green lipstick, holding a lollipop, playful but sharp. Another lists her team—stylists, managers, legal, marketing—an entire infrastructure built around her autonomy. Elsewhere, archival shots of Little Mix at the BRITs remind readers of the journey from teenage waitressing jobs to global stages.
The music itself is described as rooted in heritage: reggae, dancehall, Afrobeats. She insists it’s not about chasing charts but about authenticity. “I really hope people will get to know me with this album,” she says. Virgin Music Group echoes the sentiment, calling her autonomy rare and powerful.
Thomasin McKenzie wore a coral jacket and bubble-hem mini skirt at the Patou Menswear Fall/Winter 26-27 show in Paris on January 25, 2026.
On January 25, 2026, Thomasin McKenzie attended the Patou Menswear Fall/Winter 26-27 fashion show in Paris, France in an event appearance look that does not pretend to be casual. It is a matching set in a warm coral-pink: a structured jacket with a wide pointed collar and a smooth front closure, plus a short mini skirt with a rounded, bubble-like hem that puffs out and sits away from the thighs. The fabric looks dense and felted , the kind that holds shape without begging.
She keeps the accessories sharp and simple. Black Mary Jane heels with a glossy finish ground the sweetness, and chunky metallic earrings (rounded, sculptural) add a little hardware near the face. A small yellow top-handle bag sits beside her, bright in a way that feels intentional, like a secondary note rather than a matching trick.
There is something almost dollhouse about the silhouette, but not in a childish way. More like fashion remembering it can be weirdly cheerful even in winter. That coral reads warm against a neutral room, and the bubble hem turns her lower half into a shape, not just a length. For a reference bucket, this is the kind of celebrity event look that gets pinned and replayed as celebrity style : not because it is practical, but because it is clear.
Does the bubble-hem mini feel more like modern couture play, or like a retro silhouette revived for the front row?
