In a room that whispers old-world charm, Madalina Ghenea leans into vintage femininity—red heels, cream buttons, and a mood that’s more cinema than selfie.
There’s a kind of glamour that doesn’t shout—it sighs. In her September 2025 editorial, Madalina Ghenea trades spectacle for intimacy, offering a look that feels plucked from a Fellini frame or a forgotten Vogue Italia spread. The setting? A warmly lit room dressed in ornate furniture and wallpaper that hums with nostalgia. The mood? Soft, cinematic, and quietly decadent.
Victoria Justice trades red carpet polish for elevator-door drama—her Bronx and Banco FW25 gown glitters like shattered glass in a noir-tinged fashion fantasy.
There’s something deliciously cinematic about a woman in couture framed by cold architecture. On September 13, 2025, Victoria Justice turned a New York elevator lobby into a runway moment—no velvet ropes, no flashbulbs, just steel, tile, and a dress that refused to whisper.
Justice wore a floor-length, sleeveless gown from Bronx and Banco’s FW25 collection—a piece that feels engineered for impact. The semi-sheer fabric is netted and glistening, covered in sparkling embellishments that catch light like sequins frozen mid-shatter. Black fabric accents cinch the waist, sculpting the silhouette into something both statuesque and fluid. It’s a dress that doesn’t just move—it flickers.
Justice’s pose is assertive: one arm raised against the elevator door, the other relaxed, gaze steady. In the second frame, she smiles slightly, hand on hip, framed by the stark “7” etched into the wall. The lighting is moody, directional, casting her in high contrast against the dark background. It’s editorial, yes—but also intimate. Like catching a star mid-transformation.
Emma Brooks channels a concrete muse—tattooed, bare-armed, and unapologetically raw—in Sydney Jackson’s September 2025 shoot, a quiet rebellion against polished celebrity fashion.
There’s something arresting about stillness when it’s deliberate. In Sydney Jackson’s latest editorial, Emma Brooks doesn’t pose—she occupies. Seated against a bare concrete wall, she turns an industrial void into a canvas for quiet provocation. No props, no distractions. Just a woman, a dress, and the kind of stare that makes you reconsider what “styled” even means.
Brooks wears a sleeveless, floor-length dress with a subtle tie-dye wash in shades of white and stormy gray—a palette that feels like fog rolling over asphalt. The fabric is soft and fluid, catching light in muted waves, and the silhouette is relaxed but intentional: a column cut with just enough drape to suggest movement, even in stillness. It’s unclear who designed the piece (unconfirmed at press time), but the restraint in embellishment suggests a designer fluent in minimalism—perhaps The Row or Rick Owens in a softer mood.
Her jewelry is sparse but declarative: a single oversized ring, silver-toned, worn on her index finger like a punctuation mark. No shoes, no bag. The absence of excess is the point. The tattoos on both arms—visible and unedited—become part of the styling language, blurring the line between accessory and identity.
