Zara Larsson wore a yellow sequin bra top and floral beaded maxi skirt to the 2026 GRAMMY Awards, echoing early-2000s red carpet energy.
On the 2026 GRAMMY Awards red carpet in Los Angeles, Zara Larsson showed up like she time-warped in from one of those iconic TRL-era moments. Skin out, color loud, and just enough chaos built into the sparkle.
This wasn’t a gown. It was a two-piece —a sharply sculpted crop top and matching maxi skirt, both made of yellow sequins aggressive in shine and technically precise in fit. The bra top wrapped diagonally across the chest with a crossing shoulder strap that almost pretends to be supportive. Glossy gold beading lined the edges. That early 2000s DNA? Fully intact. It called on Britney, Christina, even a pinch of J.Lo—but leveled up.
The skirt… longer than expected. A column shape that pooled slightly at the hem, fully embellished in ornate embroidered florals framed in gold. Equal parts ballroom, Mardi Gras, and clubwear. Somehow, it didn’t feel like too much. Maybe it’s Zara’s posture—shoulders relaxed, body language fluid, just enough tension in her stance. Not trying. Just existing.
Hair was long and loose, styled into soft blonde waves with a center part. Almost mermaid, but cleaner. Her cheeks had warmth. Her lips leaned barely—glossed nude, not trying to complicate what the outfit already said. Earrings were big and gold. Not drop-shaped, not sculptural—just circular and bold like punctuation.
She’s a first-time GRAMMY nominee tonight, but you wouldn’t know it from the way she holds the carpet. No beginner’s nerves. Just an entrance. Polished, but not stiff. Fun, but not spongey.
The look doesn’t reinvent pop stardom—it just reminds you what it used to feel like.
Zara Larsson performed “Midnight Sun” at the 2026 GRAMMY Awards wearing a radiant green sequin ensemble with a dramatic sunburst waist.
For her live debut of “Midnight Sun” at the 2026 GRAMMY Awards , Zara Larsson didn’t just step on stage—she radiated. Fully. Figuratively. Literally. Her performance look was a sculptural burst of light molded into a stage-ready silhouette made from sequins, muscle, and impossible confidence.
A continuation of her red carpet theme but exaggerated for the arena lights, she wore a bright green-and-gold two-piece that caught every single beam. The top: a diagonally wrapped, strap-across-the-shoulder bra built from big mirrored sequins, curving upward like a blade. Her stomach bare, the midriff gleamed with movement under the heat of the spotlights.
But then—the skirt. Full-length, body-skimming, and completely covered in fern-like appliqués and microsequins, it shimmered with gold floral embroidery over a neon green base. From the waist, dozens of golden “rays” extended horizontally—beaded sticks exploding outward in a circle. Like a firework frozen at its most dramatic second. Architectural, risky, borderline dangerous if you’re standing too close. And yet controlled. Tight. Sharp.
She moved in it like it didn’t weigh a thing. Hair long, curled, swept behind the shoulders. She wore chunky gold earrings that mirrored the structural flair of the outfit—round, lit, maximal. Makeup minimal by comparison. Rosy lips. A wet, dewy face that glistened without slipping. She looked more like a goddess of heat than a typical pop performer—and that, of course, was kind of the point.
It wasn’t subtle, soft, or silver. This was sun-core fashion at full power—a dress that dared the stage to catch up.
Emma Laird wears a plush golden jacket and tailored trousers in British Vogue’s February 2026 issue, blending softness and sculptural nostalgia.
For the February 2026 edition of British Vogue , Emma Laird gives us a story told in texture and posture rather than excess. No gowns. No lashes. No stagey glam. Just a crouch, a stare, and an outfit that looks like a curated study in tension: soft sculpture on top, tailored context below.
The look? A wrapped cocoon of golden shearling—oversized, unfastened, and possibly unwearable outdoors. The coat doesn’t sit. It hovers. Boiled honey-colored volume, draped slowly around her chest like cloud insulation. No shirt underneath. No attempt to let the body lead. The garment leads.
Paired with that: greyish-brown suit trousers with a faint check pattern. Traditional men’s tailoring cut for a slouch. The drop is low, the legs curve out with lived-in creases, and they puddle slightly at the calf, stopping just short of the pointed toe. Her heels are subtle—a tobacco glaze of leather almost disappearing into the tone of the trousers. No red sole flash. No height drama. Grounded.
Her signature copper hair feels less styled, more tumbled—massive curls with a frizz halo that’s practically atmospheric. A face left bare on purpose, no thick liner, no pigment bomb. Just her. One visible earring. Nothing screams.
This is the kind of fashion photoshoot that resists the idea of seduction or status. It suggests weight. Mood. A quiet but deliberate refusal to “pop.”
Emma doesn’t deliver a look. She delivers a pause—and leaves it completely up to you what happens next.
