Heidi Klum wore a plunging crimson gown with a slit and textured coat at the 2026 Pre-GRAMMY Gala held at the Beverly Hilton.
At the Pre-GRAMMY Gala & GRAMMY Salute to Industry Icons at the Beverly Hilton, Heidi Klum did what only a few celebrities still do without flinching—she committed to a Look. Not ironic. Not minimalist. No monochrome “less is more.” Just volume, red, and 200% neckline.
The dress—a halter-neck column gown in textural scarlet fabric —dropped down low in the front, unapologetically deep. The plunge was sharp and clean, without mesh, tape, or any tricks—just confidence and adhesive, presumably. The bodice skimmed, then cinched into a wide waistband made from a subtly sheened material, wrapping the torso like a glamour bandage.
Below the waist, the skirt picked up a faint shimmer and a vertical texture—somewhere between pleated and crushed. A side slit opened the leg just past mid-thigh. Not an up-to-there moment. Just enough movement. Just enough mischief.
Then came the shrug. She tossed a bold red textured coat —voluminous and fuzzy, almost cartoonish—around her arms, letting it ride low enough to show shoulders. Think: fur bomb meets Muppet energy. But instead of camp, it felt… ceremonial. She wasn’t playing. She was just dressing like the cameras were always rolling.
Hair was blown out in loose, straightened waves—parted slightly in the middle, nothing tucked. Makeup centered on smoky silver eyes, bronzed skin, and an icy pink matte lip. No necklace. A few rings. Not much to compete with that neckline.
This look wasn’t just red carpet fashion. It was red carpet muscle memory.
Emma Laird wears a plush golden jacket and tailored trousers in British Vogue’s February 2026 issue, blending softness and sculptural nostalgia.
For the February 2026 edition of British Vogue , Emma Laird gives us a story told in texture and posture rather than excess. No gowns. No lashes. No stagey glam. Just a crouch, a stare, and an outfit that looks like a curated study in tension: soft sculpture on top, tailored context below.
The look? A wrapped cocoon of golden shearling—oversized, unfastened, and possibly unwearable outdoors. The coat doesn’t sit. It hovers. Boiled honey-colored volume, draped slowly around her chest like cloud insulation. No shirt underneath. No attempt to let the body lead. The garment leads.
Paired with that: greyish-brown suit trousers with a faint check pattern. Traditional men’s tailoring cut for a slouch. The drop is low, the legs curve out with lived-in creases, and they puddle slightly at the calf, stopping just short of the pointed toe. Her heels are subtle—a tobacco glaze of leather almost disappearing into the tone of the trousers. No red sole flash. No height drama. Grounded.
Her signature copper hair feels less styled, more tumbled—massive curls with a frizz halo that’s practically atmospheric. A face left bare on purpose, no thick liner, no pigment bomb. Just her. One visible earring. Nothing screams.
This is the kind of fashion photoshoot that resists the idea of seduction or status. It suggests weight. Mood. A quiet but deliberate refusal to “pop.”
Emma doesn’t deliver a look. She delivers a pause—and leaves it completely up to you what happens next.
Paris Jackson wore a long-sleeve minimalist black gown with tousled waves and stacked rings at the 2026 Pre-GRAMMY Gala in Los Angeles.
At the Pre-GRAMMY Gala & GRAMMY Salute to Industry Icons at the Beverly Hilton, Paris Jackson took a different route than most. No sparkle, no slit, no shouting. Just a long black dress, a handful of rings, and a pair of heels she didn’t feel the need to wear all night—she held them in one hand like an afterthought.
The gown was jet black, matte finish, and full-length, with long sleeves and a boat neckline that barely dipped. No embellishments. No visible closures. It looked like it had been poured on without a zipper. That kind of no-fuss fashion that feels intentionally against-the-grain in an event full of beading and breastplates.
She wore her blonde hair up, loose curls casually pinned with a few wisps left to frame the face. The kind of undone bun that probably took 45 minutes to get just messy enough. Makeup was soft and controlled—nude-pink lips, darkened eyes, brows brushed thick.
What stood out more than anything, oddly, were her fingers—each one nearly covered in rings, layered and irregular, silver and chunky. No symmetry. All attitude. One heel dangling loosely in her grip, like the red carpet was finished with her before she was done with it.
It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t polished. But it worked like a shrug that lands clean.
Paris didn’t dress to impress. She dressed like she’s not amused by trying anymore—and that, somehow, felt rare.
