Jennifer Hudson wore a dramatic black satin coat dress with a thigh-high slit to the Pre-GRAMMY Gala in Beverly Hills on January 31, 2026.
At the Pre-GRAMMY Gala honoring industry icons Avery and Monte Lipman, held at The Beverly Hilton on January 31, Jennifer Hudson redefined dramatic tailoring in a look that blended trench-coat structure with red carpet grandeur. She was wrapped in a black floor-length satin coat dress , cinched tight at the waist but split wide through the leg. A generous front slit exposed one leg up to the hip, balancing softness with strategic edge.
The dress had volume and tension—the oversized collar, the structured shoulders, the puffed sleeves gathered just right at the cuffs. Polished hardware punctuated the silhouette: gold buttons, a wide belt with gleaming details. The fabric caught just enough light to feel intentional, not reflective. Not glam. Powerful. Almost militant, but in satin.
She paired the dress with pointed black pumps , barely peeking beneath the hem. Hair was swept up into a softly-curled ponytail, structured at the crown, loose near the ends. Makeup leaned into warm neutrals—defined brow, amber lids, chestnut lipstick—the kind of face that doesn’t need sparkle to finish a look. Gold hoop earrings and a delicate chain necklace completed it. Not over-accessorized. Just punctuated.
Hudson didn’t raise her voice or flash sequins—she let the cut talk and gave the fabric its own mic.
Rose Byrne moves through Style Magazine’s February 2026 issue, caught between satin polish and maternal unraveling.
In Style Magazine’s February 2026 issue, Rose Byrne leans into a black-and-white striped armchair, halter-neck satin dress catching the light. The room is modern, geometric, almost too composed. But the pose is loose, like she’s halfway through a thought.
The editorial shifts. She’s stretched across a black couch, white fringed dress, red ribbon heels. A lamp hangs overhead, beige and soft. It’s not glamour. It’s something quieter.
Then the quote: “Having a baby is like going to the moon, and nobody ever tells you that.” She’s on a pale blue sofa now, brown top, dark skirt, black shoes. The wall is paneled, the mood is still.
The story behind the shoot is heavier. Byrne stars in Mary Bronstein’s “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You,” a film born from diaries, cheap wine, and locked bathroom doors. It’s not horror, but it’s close. Claustrophobia, monitors beeping, motherhood stripped of polish. Byrne plays Linda, Bronstein’s avatar, and the script was built at a kitchen table in Brooklyn, word by word.
Her career has zigzagged — Troy, Marie Antoinette, Damages, Bridesmaids, Insidious, Peter Rabbit, X-Men, Mrs America, Physical, Platonic. She calls herself a “career bee.” But this film feels different. Not a crescendo, maybe, but a rupture.
The final image folds it all together. Green dress, Golden Globe in hand, smile tight. It’s not triumph. It’s survival.
Do these outfits feel like fragments of different personas, or one restless editorial voice?
Jade Thirlwall wore a printed satin dress with soft draping and fluid movement to the Pre-GRAMMY Gala in Beverly Hills on January 31, 2026.
At the Pre-GRAMMY Gala and Salute to Industry Icons honoring Avery and Monte Lipman on January 31, Jade Thirlwall arrived on the red carpet with quiet confidence and soft texture. Her dress—fluid, sculptural, and dipped in an emerald green satin print —brought a sense of speed and softness, like it was stretched in motion. The fabric wasn’t actually ruched, but the illusion of folds was printed onto it. Like shadows sketched into motion.
The neckline was an elegant cowl, pooling just slightly at the chest. One slender strap split subtly at the collarbone. The shape hugged without squeezing, flowing into a full-length silhouette that stopped just above the floor. On either side, long matching sashes hung down from the hips—an echo of sleeves that never existed, left to trail like loose punctuation.
Her beauty was moody but clean. Defined lips in a dark mauve , glowing skin, thick brows—not overdrawn. The hair stayed soft and wavy, long past the shoulders, parted slightly as if it was shifted by thought. Shoes were mostly hidden beneath the hem, but the toe gave it away— black pointed pumps , minimal, sharp, not fighting for attention.
This was less of a loud look than an intelligent one. Thirlwall floated onto the carpet with texture, tone, and a kind of elegant refusal to overstate.
