Nina Dobrev wore a Monot black-and-white column dress with a Saint Laurent patent clutch to Michael Braun’s Golden Globes afterparty in 2026.
Mid-January night, Beverly Hills curbside. Nina Dobrev glides past idling SUVs, arm-in-arm with Colman Domingo, heading for Michael Braun’s post-Globes hideaway. Her look is pared to two colors and one clear intent. A Monot Spring 2021 column–inky black, sliced high at the thigh–meets a sharp white origami neckline that cups her shoulders like folded paper. Spaghetti straps; no jewels. In her grip, a mirror-shine Saint Laurent Patent Leather Clutch small enough to feel deliberate, not fussy. Black pointed pumps anchor everything, leaving the silhouette uninterrupted. Beside her, Domingo’s sequined bomber throws stray sparks, but Dobrev keeps her lane–quiet confidence against disco noise. The scene will feed tomorrow’s churn of celebrity red carpet slideshows, yet the outfit itself refuses the usual glitter tantrum.
Monot built its name on negative space, and Dobrev’s choice leans into that discipline. In a year when gowns keep inflating–tulle mountains, neon frosting–this strict monochrome feels almost rebellious. One sharp thought: minimalism survives not by hiding but by daring guests to pay attention to the cut. You notice posture, the tilt of a clavicle, the tempo of a stride.
Critique, straight up. The pumps’ modest height keeps her comfortable but steals a sliver of vertical drama; a higher stiletto could have stretched the column into something nearly architectural. Still, the overall picture lands clean. When color goes missing, precision takes center stage–Dobrev’s dress draws its power from what it doesn’t say.
Does the severe black-and-white palette feel boldly modern or slide into perfectly polite party camouflage?
Ariana Greenblatt wore a vintage tapestry coat with burgundy faux fur over a blue dress while filming Somedays in 2026.
Cranford’s back-street curb, gray noon light. Ariana Greenblatt steps between trailers, shooting “Somedays,” wrapped in a Vintage Wool Tapestry Coat with Faux Fur so plush it almost drags the sidewalk. The pattern–autumn browns and mossy swirls–meets shaggy wine-red trim at collar, cuffs, hem. Underneath flashes a cobalt mini dress, simple slip shape, cinched by a thin white strip that could be costuming tape or a last-second belt trick. Plaid tights peek through the coat’s swing, connecting to knee-high black leather boots with a blunt heel built for long takes, not glamour shots. Dark oval sunglasses, no jewelry, hair messy ponytail–set life shorthand for “let’s just get the next scene.”
One quick scroll of celebrity street style accounts and the look would be tagged maximalist vintage, yet here it doubles as character armor. The coat hums with 70s thrift energy–think thrift-store attic meets small-town nostalgia–which fits a film said to orbit lost days and half-remembered lovers. Sharp insight: when young actors lean into second-hand textures, they borrow time itself; the garment carries memories they haven’t earned, perfect for storytelling.
Critique, straight from the curb. The faux-fur edging is bold but heavy; camera lights may flatten its color to muddy brown, risking visual drag. A tighter trim could sharpen the silhouette. Still, the clash of tapestry, plaid, and electric blue sells a teenager-on-the-run vibe without one line of dialogue. Costume as back-story–every thread already knows more than we do, and that’s the hook.
Cultural Bridge Question: Does this tapestry-and-plaid mash-up read as authentic vintage grit or a stylist’s deliberate period pastiche?
Kendall Jenner wore a cropped gray bolero, dark sports bra and slim sunglasses while leaving Forma Pilates in Los Angeles in 2025.
Kendall Jenner slips into her black SUV outside the Beverly Glen Centre, afternoon light bouncing off the paintwork and her narrow, no-nonsense shades. A charcoal bolero–really just the collar and shoulders of a sweater–clasps at one button and stops. Underneath, a deep-brown athletic top cuts a clean V, skin doing most of the talking. Tote strap in oatmeal canvas, hair slicked back and center-parted, nothing flying loose after the workout. The scene feels mundane–parking lot, gray wall–yet phones still buzz because someone spotted a micro-cardigan. One moment later, the door shuts and she’s gone, leaving only another blip in the endless scroll of celebrity street style .
