Paris Hilton wore a deep-cut black gown with a crystal-studded waist and matching choker to the 2026 Pre-GRAMMY Gala at the Beverly Hilton.
At the Pre-GRAMMY Gala & Salute to Industry Icons at The Beverly Hilton, Paris Hilton strode into the red carpet frame looking every inch like herself—hyper-aware of the camera, stylized without apology, glamor built like armor.
She wore a black floor-length gown with a neckline that dropped until it almost couldn’t. Deep V. Plunged. But not soft—sharp lines that cut straight from collarbone to midriff with no lacework or illusion mesh to interrupt. Smooth black, maybe silk jersey or satin-heavy stretch, hugging the body like a second thought.
At the waist, things tightened and glittered. A crystal-embellished belt detail—not wrapped, but built into the dress—pulled everything inward. Like the gown was being held together by sparkle and pressure. That same effect repeated at the neck: a thick black choker encrusted with matching stones, mirroring the waist but doubling as a frame for the absence of fabric in between.
Her signature blonde hair was swept to one side and curled into glossy, Hollywood waves. No loose tendrils, no fake mess. It was brushed, curled, sprayed. The eye makeup was dramatic—full lashes, silver shimmer lids, sharp cheekbone shadow. One hand on her hip, the other just brushing against the hem. One finger extended like she was mid-thought. She knew the shot before the flash.
That’s the thing with Hilton. It’s not reinvention. It’s persistence. She doesn’t show up chasing trends—her style has always been frozen in gloss and glitter, and that’s where it’s strongest.
This wasn’t a look that begged to be seen—it simply expected it, and waited under the spotlight like it paid rent there.
Paris Jackson wore a long-sleeve minimalist black gown with tousled waves and stacked rings at the 2026 Pre-GRAMMY Gala in Los Angeles.
At the Pre-GRAMMY Gala & GRAMMY Salute to Industry Icons at the Beverly Hilton, Paris Jackson took a different route than most. No sparkle, no slit, no shouting. Just a long black dress, a handful of rings, and a pair of heels she didn’t feel the need to wear all night—she held them in one hand like an afterthought.
The gown was jet black, matte finish, and full-length, with long sleeves and a boat neckline that barely dipped. No embellishments. No visible closures. It looked like it had been poured on without a zipper. That kind of no-fuss fashion that feels intentionally against-the-grain in an event full of beading and breastplates.
She wore her blonde hair up, loose curls casually pinned with a few wisps left to frame the face. The kind of undone bun that probably took 45 minutes to get just messy enough. Makeup was soft and controlled—nude-pink lips, darkened eyes, brows brushed thick.
What stood out more than anything, oddly, were her fingers—each one nearly covered in rings, layered and irregular, silver and chunky. No symmetry. All attitude. One heel dangling loosely in her grip, like the red carpet was finished with her before she was done with it.
It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t polished. But it worked like a shrug that lands clean.
Paris didn’t dress to impress. She dressed like she’s not amused by trying anymore—and that, somehow, felt rare.
Laufey wore a vibrant green satin gown with bow and ruffle detailing at the 2026 Pre-GRAMMY Gala honoring the Lipman brothers in Los Angeles.
At the Pre-GRAMMY Gala & GRAMMY Salute to Industry Icons held in honor of Avery and Monte Lipman at The Beverly Hilton, Laufey did what she always does—appeared like a breath of something old and something oddly fresh. She wore a structured, satin green gown in a distinctly retro silhouette that managed to feel sweet and slightly strange at the same time.
Straight-cut in the body but all drama down the front, the strapless dress featured symmetrical structured ruching and a cascading ruffle seam that ran from neckline to floor. A keyhole cutout peeked from under a centered satin bow—childlike without being naive. Deliberately kitsch. The off-shoulder strap design didn’t curve softly—it stuck out parallel to the floor, sharp and stubborn, like it had something to say.
The green? Not mint. Not neon. Just that kind of artificial apple hue you’d expect on a 1960s gelatin mold. Fabric had a slight reflective sheen—not wet but not matte either. Polished skin and neutral makeup kept it clean. Glossed lips, groomed brows, soft contour. Her hair was pulled into a classic updo, pinned with care but not fussy. A delicate chain necklace barely glinted across the collarbones.
There’s a specificity to Laufey’s style that rejects “cool girl” minimalism without diving headfirst into fashion chaos. What she wore wasn’t about edge or seduction. It was pure form. Aesthetic as joke, and maybe as compliment.
If Wes Anderson styled prom night, this is probably what would walk in and write a perfect song about it.
