Eve’s Numéro Netherlands January 2026 shoot moves between leather grit, feathered drama, and surreal prints stitched into sharp frames.
In Numéro Netherlands’ January 2026 issue, Eve steps into a pink backdrop, sleeveless leather top zipped tight, shorts laced at the waist. Black heels, bracelets stacked, feathered headpiece rising like a crown. The pose is confident, almost defiant.
Another frame strips color away. Black-and-white, oversized coat with triangular sleeves jutting outward. Lace-up pants shine underneath, rings flashing as she clutches the collar. Hair cut blunt, bob neat. It feels architectural, more structure than clothing.
Then the textured dress. Spiked embellishments, feather-like shards running down the body. She leans against a metal bar, one hand on her hip, the other stretched. The roll-up door behind her makes the outfit sharper, less polished, more industrial.
The last look folds surrealism into tailoring. Gray blazer with exaggerated shoulders, pants printed with a human face. Gloves black, sunglasses dark. Arms raised, fingers spread. It’s dramatic, but not theatrical. More like a sketch come alive.
Together, the spread doesn’t flatten her. It lets her shift. Leather and feathers. Triangular sleeves. Spiked dress. Printed pants. Numéro Netherlands doesn’t chase one image. It lets Eve be many.
Nessa Barrett wore a sheer black mesh dress with patent pumps at Cosmopolitan and Pandora’s 2026 L.A. music weekend event.
At the Cosmopolitan and Pandora Jewelry celebration of Music’s Biggest Weekend, held January 30, 2026, at Mother Wolf in Los Angeles, Nessa Barrett made a statement that felt both bare and deliberate. She wore a fully visible, body-skimming black dress characterized by a sheer mesh overlay stitched in a lattice motif, revealing a structured, lightly ruched black satin bustier beneath. The hemline grazed just above the ankles, ending in soft floral-scalloped detailing. On her feet: pointed black patent pumps —simple, sharp, and a little cold. Her long dark hair fell loose in soft ripples, with minimal styling. The makeup was similarly subdued: matte skin, a hazy shimmer across the lids, and muted nude lips. A singular word tattoo— heartless peeks out beneath her collarbones, nearly matching the dress’s cool defiance.
This wasn’t high drama or attention-baiting glamour. It felt more interior. A girl lingering in the shadow of the party rather than bursting into its spotlight. There’s something unmistakably intimate in choosing a sheer texture for an event appearance like this—on a night built for camera flashes and surface dazzle. Barrett didn’t lean fully into visibility, but she didn’t hide either. She landed somewhere in between: not transparent, but translucent. That tension—the one between confidence and privacy—is where the outfit holds its quiet force.
Stylistically, the look skims the edge of 1990s raw femininity. Think Dolce & Gabbana during their lingerie-dress era, but drained of overt seduction. It also gestures at media event minimalism seen lately across younger alt-pop performers: barely-there fabrics, simple silhouettes, knowingly vulnerable. The polished pumps, almost too pristine beside an otherwise emotionally gritty ensemble, create a friction point. Intentional? Maybe. But it interrupts the mood a little—a crack in the aesthetic hypnosis.
There’s an irony to wearing something this sheer as armor—it makes the exposure deliberate, and therefore less vulnerable.
Ruth Wilson wore a black velvet jacket, wide cuffed jeans and sculptural heels for a Harper’s BAZAAR UK editorial shot before Dior’s fall show.
For a Harper’s BAZAAR UK x Dior editorial imagined through the quiet luxury lens of photographer Darren Gerrish, Ruth Wilson sat still. Not posed — placed. A frame within a frame.
She wore a black velvet double-breasted blazer , plush and matte, the fibers soaking up the soft light like ink on silk. Sharp lapels. No theatrics. Just tailored presence. The sleeves finished crisply at the wrist, hands relaxed on lacquered wood — ring-heavy, red-nailed, almost forgotten.
Below: denim. Not faded, not slim. Wide-cut, boxy cuffed jeans , stitched at the knee in a hybrid reenactment of workwear and rebellion. The exaggerated fold at the ankle felt deliberate but unbothered — like the pants refused to end any other way.
Then the shoes. A study in friction. Two-tone pointed slingbacks in cream and black, with a quirky bow, one foot sunk deeper into the carpet’s hush than the other. No symmetry. Pure quiet discordance.
Hair was pulled back — clean and simple. Makeup dialed into one feature: deep, dramatic oxblood lips , defined and defiant. Everything else stayed low-volume.
The mood wasn’t revolutionary. It just slowed everything down long enough to notice.
