Lola Young wore a cartoon-print olive green tracksuit with white socks and patent flats at the 2026 Grammy Awards red carpet.
At the 68th Annual Grammy Awards , Lola Young didn’t dress for the cameras. She dressed for herself—and maybe a mushroom-dwelling emoji character. On a night built for sequins and silhouettes, she arrived instead in a droopy, olive-green tracksuit splashed with soft-focus camouflage and airbrushed stencil prints of cartoon animals. Ducks. Teddy bears in oversized hats. Some frowning. Some a little eerie.
The sweatshirt bloused over loose-fitting drawstring pants gathered just tight enough to read “intentionally wrinkled.” Beneath the oversized collar, she layered a crisp white dress shirt with a dramatic, oversized spread and a vintagey red-and-blue striped tie , knotted high and off-center like it had been yanked in frustration. The whole look read like school uniform meets living room loungewear—with a dose of TikTok surrealism.
Hair was draped in long onyx waves, parted far to one side, with a section curled like punctuation across her forehead. Makeup leaned theatrically glam: overdrawn lashes, an arched brow that said “don’t try me,” and a constellation of faux freckles dotted across her cheeks. She wore black patent flats with glinting white socks pulled high—like recital shoes for a piano student gone rogue.
She carried no accessories. No earrings. No bag. Just an undeniable sense that nothing about the outfit happened by accident—even if it looked like it did.
The fashion verdict ? Satirical, strange, and deeply controlled. Lola didn’t wear the look so much as shrug it on like a private joke she dared us not to get.
Keltie Knight wore a sparkling gold embellished cutout gown with a thigh-high slit at the 2026 Grammy Awards red carpet.
At the 68th Annual Grammy Awards , Keltie Knight embraced full-lens glitter. No tricks. No distractions. Just shimmering skin and fabric so gold it nearly blurred into the brass railings behind her.
She wore a sharply cut asymmetric sequin gown , built entirely in high-shine rose-gold embellishments that scattered light like a disco ball mid-spin. One shoulder was left bare, the other draped just enough to anchor a slashed neckline that met low in the sternum at a precise vertical slit—not quite daring, but definitely calculated. Then came the cutout waist , carved below the ribs, and the hip-high slit that drew a direct line from bodice to carpet.
The training hem—minimal, but present—trailed behind like a glitter-dusted curtain in motion. Nude open-toe stiletto heels kept things lengthened without adding clutter. Jewelry was barely there. Smart move. The gown was the jewelry.
Hair was curled into soft, structured waves, tucked just enough behind one ear to frame the face without fuss. Makeup leaned understated—matte rose lip, bronzed cheek, clean lashes—giving everything the look of polish held just shy of overdone.
What made this look sit differently was its precision. There was no chaos in this chaos. Every opening, cut, and shimmer had been placed like geometry. Intention stitched in sparkle.
The fashion verdict ? Old-school red carpet motives, executed with modern bluntness. A gown that whispered “showstopper” in a tone so confident, the crowd already knew to stop.
FKA Twigs wore a draped earth-toned gown and spiked red hair to the 2026 Grammy Awards after winning Best Dance/Electronic Album.
At the 68th Annual Grammy Awards , FKA Twigs hit the red carpet looking like she’d just stepped out of some forgotten myth. The dress? A distressed, layered skin of peach, chestnut, and singed-rose gauze —half unraveling, half sculptural—draped across her torso like wind-tossed bark, held in place by knotted cords and what looked like metallic insects perched along the seams.
The construction blended fragility with firmness. You could imagine it tearing if you blinked wrong… except it never did. The fabric hung unevenly in strips that floated behind her—ghost limbs with no weight. Her legs, visible through sheer panels, were sheathed in matching mesh tights that bore black tattoo-style roses , etched from ankle to upper thigh. The left leg bore a gore-ish flourish: a sculpted anthurium flower , blood-red and curling out from the dress like something growing, not attached.
None of this, though, could compete with her hair. A piercing, electric red , pulled into molded oxidation spikes reaching outward like flames crossing a wind tunnel. Between the peaks of fire, strands of slick braids coiled down her back, anchored with black binds and little charms. She didn’t accessorize much—maybe one silver cuff on her right forearm, a few rings, a weathered book-bound clutch clutched tight in one hand like she knew its secrets.
The whole thing wasn’t pretty. It was feral poetry . A little mad. A little transcendent. And deeply rooted in Twigs’s long-time obsession: the twisting of flesh and folklore into wearable performance.
The fashion verdict ? Not a look—an incantation. She wore ruin like a ritual and let it bloom.
