Kristen Bell wore a black lace-paneled Elie Saab Halter Neck Dress to the 2026 Critics Choice Awards ceremony.
Kristen Bell stands on the dark carpet in Santa Monica. It is January 4, 2026, the night of the 31st Annual Critics Choice Awards. She has chosen an Elie Saab Halter Neck Dress . It is black, stark, and unrelentingly vertical. The gown features a high halter neckline that slices inward at the shoulders, anchored by a sheer bodice overlaid with black lace. This isn’t delicate, bridal lace; it’s graphic, almost web-like. Solid fabric creates a column down the center front and skirt, flanked by these shadowy, transparent panels. It is a familiar rhythm in celebrity red carpet history—using negative space to make a black dress feel less like a uniform.
This feels like a correction. A step back from the performative whimsy that often dominates her public image. There is no bright color here, no playful volume. Just severity. It aligns with a broader fatigue in Hollywood fashion, where stars seem to be retreating into the safety of “serious” clothes. It suggests a mood that is less about entertaining the gallery and more about simply surviving the flashbulbs with dignity intact.
The verdict? It is precise. The lace bodice fits with a tension that prevents it from looking sloppy, a common risk with sheer inserts. The geometry of the lace—forming a chevron shape at the waist—attempts to engineer an hourglass figure, though the transition between the sheer top and the solid skirt feels a bit abrupt. A harsh line. The skirt itself pools slightly, heavy and matte. Her styling is minimal, almost an afterthought. Loose tendrils of hair escape an updo, softening the architectural harshness of the halter neck. It’s not an outfit that screams for attention; it waits for it. A calculated use of darkness to clear the noise.
Kaley Cuoco wore a black satin Simkhai suit with Pomellato jewelry to the 2026 Critics Choice Awards ceremony.
Kaley Cuoco walks the carpet at the Barker Hangar in Santa Monica. It is January 4, 2026, for the 31st Annual Critics Choice Awards. She bypasses the gown rack entirely. Instead, she wears a black suit that looks almost liquid under the strobes. This is the Simkhai Norah Blazer paired with the Simkhai Kyra Pant . The fabric is a high-sheen satin, dark and slippery, creating a silhouette that is less about structure and more about drape. It is a notable shift in the usual celebrity red carpet playbook, trading corsetry for something that moves like water.
There is a distinct mood here—a rejection of the “armored” woman. In a season where stiffness often equals formality, this look leans into the “pajama dressing” revival but cleans it up for the cameras. It suggests a desire for comfort that doesn’t sacrifice polish, a recognition that one can attend a high-stakes industry event without holding one’s breath for four hours. It feels modern, slightly undone, and entirely sensible.
The execution is tricky, though. Satin is an unforgiving narrator; it tells you exactly where the fabric folds, bunches, or pulls. The blazer is cut generous and boxy, swallowing the waist, while the trousers pool aggressively at the floor. It risks looking a bit messy, a bit too relaxed for the venue. To counteract the slouch, the jewelry works hard. She wears a Pomellato Catene Necklace , a heavy chain link piece that adds necessary weight and sparkle near the face. The look is finished with Pomellato Nudo Earrings and a Pomellato Nudo Ring , injecting small points of light into the dark expanse of fabric. It’s a brave choice—a tailored garment that refuses to be stiff.
Michelle Randolph wore a structured white corset top with a contrasting black skirt to the 2026 Critics Choice Awards.
Michelle Randolph turns up at the Barker Hangar in Santa Monica. It is January 4, 2026. The event is the 31st Annual Critics Choice Awards. She wears a floor-length ensemble defined by high contrast. The upper half is a white corset, structured with visible cups and wide straps, executed in a fabric with a low sheen. It cuts off at the hip, giving way to a black skirt that flares gently as it hits the floor. It is a textbook example of celebrity red carpet styling—clean, legible, and designed for the flashbulb.
This aesthetic feels like a deliberate pause. In a landscape often cluttered with method dressing and viral stunts, this choice leans into quietude. It evokes the minimalism of the mid-90s, where the garment was a frame for the face rather than a prop for a skit. It suggests a shift toward wardrobe staples elevated to couture status, a rejection of the temporary high of a “loud” dress.
The success here lies in the tailoring. The corset bodice fits with a rigidity that feels almost architectural, holding its shape against the body rather than just clinging to it. The stark division between the white top and the black skirt creates a visual break that lengthens the torso, though it risks looking a bit like separates rather than a cohesive gown. The choice of a single sapphire-toned pendant on a delicate chain is smart; it provides a necessary focal point against the expanse of white skin and fabric. It’s not an adventurous look, certainly not avant-garde. It’s polite. The styling relies on the tension between the lingerie-inspired bodice and the formal skirt. A refined, if somewhat safe, execution of modern eveningwear.
