Tyla wore a nude crystal-embellished Dsquared2 dress with a feathered train and Paris Texas Lidia heels at the 2026 Grammy Awards.
At the 68th Grammy Awards , Tyla didn’t float in—she smoldered in motion. She arrived wrapped in a soft-gold, vintage Dsquared2 gown that landed somewhere between ‘30s loungewear and early-2000s drama. Thin spaghetti straps , a low curved neckline dusted with gold crystal embroidery, and a dotting of jewels down the body—applied almost like rainfall. Deliberate. As if each placement had a personal note.
But the real chaos—the poetic kind—was at her feet. Not literally, but from them. A dense, feathered train , pale as champagne fizz, trailed out behind her like a brushed-off sentence. She held it scrunched in one hand like it’d tried to run off and she caught it mid-rebellion. That’s where the nude Paris Texas Lidia mules came into focus—caramel-toned patent leather, steep as a whisper, with that modern arch that makes the foot look impossibly long.
Neck: stacked. Pandora’s “The Together Collier” wrapped tightly. A few rings scattered across both hands. Hair in a sculpted high ponytail—messy enough to feel lived-in, not posed. Face framed by slick-edged baby hairs and curtain-length tendrils, makeup warm and bronzy, lip somewhere between gloss and balm.
There was something off-beat about the entire pitch. Not overly polished. Not ethereal. No princess story here. Just slick, glowing effort. The kind that comes from archiving references and remixing them with bite.
A dress like this doesn’t whisper timelessness—it hisses quietly and leaves a trail of feathers like receipts.
Lana Del Rey and Madison Beer attended the 2026 Pre-GRAMMY Gala in black and ivory strapless gowns, balancing quiet romance with sultry structure.
At the Pre-GRAMMY Gala & GRAMMY Salute to Industry Icons honoring Avery and Monte Lipman at The Beverly Hilton in Los Angeles, Lana Del Rey and Madison Beer turned up with two very different definitions of subtlety.
Look 1: Lana Del Rey’s Sculptural Noir
Lana, on the left, opted for near-anonymity in all black. But it wasn’t flat. Her strapless gown—likely taffeta or another structured textile—relied less on embellishment, more on shape. The bodice was fitted but not squeezed, flowing down to a drop-waist silhouette with a quiet flare that resisted drama. There was no slit, no shimmer, no sharp structure—just fabric that moved like it wasn’t in a hurry.
Hair softly waved and tucked behind her shoulders. Makeup? Very Lana. Pillowy lips in a sheer pink. Brows brushed but not sharp. She wore a thin chain necklace with a modest double-ring charm, and long red nails that blinked like punctuation marks against the monochrome dress.
It didn’t beg for attention. But it held it just the same.
Look 2: Madison Beer’s Ivory Siren Dress
Next to her, Madison looked like someone had peeled her from a 1950s cigarette ad— in the best possible way . She wore a ruched, strapless ivory gown with a sweetheart neckline, clinging like it was still deciding whether to stay on. Fabric pulled tight across the torso and hips, then broke into a daringly high slit —just above the ankle, revealing pearl-studded platform sandals. The fabric was light enough to barely hold a shape on its own, and that was the point.
Her hair was brushed out in polished waves, face glowing under soft light. A warm bronze contour, brushed brows, and a matte beige lip. Not one piece of jewelry out of place—diamond drop earrings and a single ring. Like she knew you’d be looking at the dress anyway.
Together, they didn’t clash. They balanced. One soft, one sharp. One quiet, one crafted. Both intentional.
A perfect visual duet: Lana whispered, Madison smirked—and somehow, they stayed in key.
Sabrina Carpenter wore a beaded sheer Valentino gown with cascading ruffle tiers and a pearl-embroidered bodice at the 2026 Grammy Awards.
At the 68th Annual Grammy Awards in Los Angeles, Sabrina Carpenter didn’t just dress like a nominee—she looked like a memory half-frozen in light. Her custom Valentino gown had that kind of presence: shimmering, detailed, maybe a little sugary but not soft.
Visibly beaded from collarbone to train, the dress clung in all the expected places, yet stayed playful—romantic, even clumsy in its sweetness. The upper half was sculpted, corset-style, but softened by illusion tulle and glassy embroidery that spelled out florals with no petals. Thin off-shoulder draping gave the illusion of a capelet without adding weight. Below the waist, things got lighter—seven tiers of ruffled mesh , covered in tiny scattered pearls, falling down like layered icing. It didn’t drag dramatically, but left just enough trail to count as formal.
Hair tied back. Loose pieces near the eyes. Blush heavy on the cheeks, probably on purpose. Matte lips somewhere between rose and oxblood. She skipped heavy jewelry. Just earrings, just a few rings. Let the dress overtalk—because that’s what it was meant to do.
This wasn’t a futuristic look or a deconstructed risk. It was almost defiantly referential— Old Hollywood , filtered through teenage fantasy, hemmed with TikTok modernity. A compromise between timeless and trend. And still, distinctly hers.
If Barbie ever cried glitter, this is what it might dry into.
