Mckayla Twiggs wore a white strapless romper with sheer black tights to the 2026 Universal Music Group Grammy Afterparty in Los Angeles.
At the Universal Music Group’s 2026 Grammy Afterparty at NYA WEST in Los Angeles, Mckayla Twiggs took the black carpet in a look that fused youthful bluntness with studio-glow slickness. It was compact. Purposeful. A little bratty—because it should be.
She wore a white strapless romper , buttoned at the bust and punctuated with symmetrical gold-tone zippers like something pulled from 2010s Frank Ocean visuals or mall-core’s rejected chic twin. The tailoring hugged at the ribs, then relaxed slightly through the hips—clean but not restrictive. The playsuit cut said “I’m not freezing,” even while the sheer black tights underneath said, “I definitely am.” That’s balance.
Her shoes: patent black heels , sharp toe, with a slim ankle strap barely visible behind the sheen of hosiery. Nothing ornamental. Just movement. Her hair , soft and parted down the center, fell in loose waves past her shoulders—glamorous, sure, but not trying to prove it. Makeup stayed youthful: flushed cheeks, fresh brow, a glossed mauve-pink lip, lined just enough to matter.
She skipped a clutch altogether. Smart call. The outfit didn’t need interruption. The overall tone? Like she drifted out of a photoshoot and landed, perfectly unfazed, into a media event . There was no hard posing, just presence.
The fashion verdict ? Tight, edited, fast. Mckayla kept it light—sharp enough to cut through the noise, soft enough not to get stuck in it.
Elizabeth Debicki wore a deep velvet pantsuit with flared legs and a plunging neckline on the Elle UK January 2026 cover shoot.
For the Elle UK January 2026 edition, Elizabeth Debicki doesn’t pose so much as lean—shoulder half-pressed into the frame of a doorway, hands tucked in her pockets like she has nothing to prove and even less to explain. It’s more posture than pose. No tension. Just presence.
She’s dressed in a sharply tailored black velvet pantsuit , cut with restraint and a whisper of drama. The blazer is single-breasted, with an exaggerated V -shaped neckline that plunges decisively low—no blouse, just skin, light, and fabric. The trousers sit clean at the waist and fall into an exaggerated flare that skims the carpet, long enough to disappear into the soft shadows near her feet.
There are no loud accessories, no unnecessary styling flourishes. One single gold button holds the jacket in place. That’s all. The texture of the velvet absorbs the chandelier light behind her, complicating the color until black looks like ink, or midnight, or deep moss depending on what part you focus on. Hair? Loose, wavy, barely touched. Almost like she walked in barefoot then added shoes at the last second. Minimal makeup. Brow intact. Skin even.
It’s a quiet kind of high fashion . Not shimmery or bright. It doesn’t sell drama. Just shape, texture, patience. And Elizabeth, as always, knows how to carry weight while making it look effortless.
The fashion verdict ? Intellect meets softness. Tailoring this silent makes a louder statement than any gown.
Amanda Seyfried’s Vogue Australia February 2026 editorial explores creative trust, spiritual embodiment, and the messy beauty of collaboration.
In Vogue Australia’s February 2026 issue, Amanda Seyfried sits beside Mona Fastvold, both in black tops, one layered with a checkered dress. The setup is simple. Neutral background, wooden chairs, no distractions. Just two women who built something together.
The shoot and interview orbit around The Testament of Ann Lee , a film that pushed Seyfried into new territory. She sings, screams, shakes — not for effect, but from somewhere deeper. The role demanded presence, not performance. And Fastvold gave her the space to find it. “You can rip off all your figurative clothes,” Seyfried says, “and really go into the unknown.”
Their conversation is loose, warm. They talk about attic parties in Williamsburg, about Leos Carax and Nina Hoss, about writing scenes at a breakfast-stained kitchen table. Seyfried calls Mamma Mia! a turning point, but it’s Ann Lee that feels like a spiritual one. “I wanted to bring that story to life with you,” she tells Fastvold.
The film itself is textured — grief, movement, hymns, intuition. Seyfried’s performance is described as staggering. But what lingers is the trust. “I felt that you had my back,” Fastvold says. That’s the tone they set. Messy, maternal, fearless.
This editorial isn’t about fashion. It’s about what happens when two artists stop pretending and start listening.
