Dixie D’Amelio wore a sheer black lace catsuit and corset top to the 2026 Spotify Best New Artist event in West Hollywood on January 29.
At Spotify’s 2026 Best New Artist event in West Hollywood, Dixie D’Amelio walked the black carpet dressed like a haunted silhouette—provocative, exact, a little spooky, a lot intentional.
She wore a fully sheer black lace catsuit , clinging ultra-tight, no opacity, no hiding. The lace is floral, delicate but stretching with purpose, revealing without stumbling into chaos. It’s one of those pieces that doesn’t need volume or cutouts—it participates by exposure alone. Over the top: a sculpted black corset , full boning structure, matte satin texture, cups outlined but not bulky. The kind of corset that shapes but doesn’t dominate. It keeps the lines sharp. Especially against all that soft lace.
The catsuit has elbow-length flutter sleeves, giving it an unexpected softness. A shrugging motion disguised as tailoring. And the fit? From neckline to ankle, it’s body-map precision. She styled it with pointed black stilettos , patent pumps with thin heels, barely visible from under the lace hem.
Her hair was styled voluminously with a tall, soft bouffant bun, face-framing strands staying out in that perfectly-messed-up way that screams retro but doesn’t feel playful. The glam? Smoky around the eyes, nude lip, contoured jawline. Earring-less. Bracelet-less. No accessories except her presence—which is a statement piece all its own.
In a room full of color-blocking, trend-chasing, and TikTok-neutral-safe-bets, Dixie went full visual risk. This look is high-concept street style meets lingerie editorial , but done without apology. She didn’t pull back on coverage for shock value—she leaned into construction. There’s a method under the skin, literally. It’s about silhouette and friction—not glamour.
Sydney Sweeney wore a white tank, sweatpants, and sneakers while out in Los Angeles on January 29, 2026.
Spotted under the Southern California sun, Sydney Sweeney stepped out in Los Angeles with zero pretense and plenty of comfort. There’s something quietly effective about wearing what you want without it needing to explain itself—and she looked like she had no plans to try.
The look? Casual in posture, but specific in its pieces. She wore a fitted white ribbed tank top , the kind that hugs sculpted shoulders and makes even the simplest look land with more precision. Straight-cut, no crop, no embellishment. The tank was paired with heather gray sweatpants , high-rise and loose but not dragging—the soft kind, the run-errands-and-disappear-inside-them kind.
On her feet: white sneakers , low-profile with minimal branding. Clean enough to show she cares. Scruffed just enough to say she really doesn’t. In one hand, she carried a thick patterned fleece jacket , southwestern-inspired in design—earth-toned, geometric motif, a rare hit of print in an otherwise minimal look.
Topping it off: a navy baseball cap , structured, emblazoned with a round emblem patch. Hair tucked underneath in soft blonde strands, peeking at the collarbone. No handbag visible. No glam touches. The only accessory? A delicate chain necklace and a whisper-thin gold bangle at the wrist.
In a week shaped by red carpets and curated chaos, this moment hits refresh. This is celebrity street style built for errands, workouts, coffee stops—quiet, useful, and real. Sydney’s version of off-duty isn’t styled within an inch of its life. It just breathes. And maybe that’s the takeaway.
The fit doesn’t force relevance. But it doesn’t fade either.
Bella Poarch wore a strapless layered red tulle gown and matching opera gloves to the Go Red for Women event in New York on January 29.
At the American Heart Association’s Go Red for Women Red Dress Collection Concert in New York, Bella Poarch gave us full fairytale drama—with edge. She looked like a rose in full bloom, if that rose had tattoos and didn’t care if it was being watched.
The dress was floor-length, strapless, and completely consumed in layered shades of red tulle , ranging from bright cherry to soft pink undertones peeking near the hem. The gown’s bodice was ruched diagonally, creating structure without stiffness, and the skirt poured outward in a glowing, almost translucent flood. But the real punctuation came from the left side—draped with sculptural fabric rosettes, growing up and out of the hip like petals mid-motion.
She wore matching tulle opera gloves , fingertip-length and fitted, which gave the look cohesion, but also let it lean slightly surreal—like she wandered out of a Renaissance painting halfway through and decided to make it punk. The styling was minimal elsewhere—no necklace, no excess. Long, softly curled waves fell over her shoulders. Her ink peeks out like an afterthought—but it never is.
The makeup was quietly glam. Rounded eye, fluffy brow, diffuse lip. Nothing overdrawn, nothing showy. It was softness held in tension. And that tension? Makes it memorable.
