An awards show red carpet is rarely about the clothes alone. It is a text, written in silk and satin, jewels and jawlines. It is the opening statement in a long and carefully managed conversation that we collectively call awards season. At the 77th Primetime Emmy Awards, held in mid-September, that conversation felt distinctly urgent. The usual hum of safe, elegant choices was punctuated by a series of sharp, deliberate, and deeply personal declarations. From the overtly political to the artfully subversive, this was a red carpet where the message was the medium.
Of course, there was no shortage of classic Hollywood glamour illuminating the Peacock Theater in Los Angeles. But the looks that truly arrested the eye were those that had something to say, those that weaponised the codes of formalwear to honour a legacy, challenge a normative boundary, or simply make a point with startling clarity. We have long moved past the era of the red carpet functioning merely as a parade of borrowed diamonds and safely tailored silhouettes. Today, in an age where every visual output is immediately dissected online by millions of armchair critics, the clothing chosen by television’s elite serves as a complex communicative tool. It was a stark reminder that fashion at its most interesting is never just about looking good – it is fundamentally about being understood.
The Archival Citation
The phenomenon of “naked dressing” has dominated the red carpet for several seasons now, often substituting sheer provocation for actual design. We have seen countless variations of the translucent crystal gown, a trend that occasionally flirts with exhaustion. However, the concept continues to find new and more intellectually rigorous forms of expression when placed in the hands of a skilled designer and a willing muse. Jenna Ortega’s arrival was a piece of pure archival theatre that completely upended the sheer-dress fatigue. Her custom ensemble, designed by Sarah Burton for Givenchy, was a breathtaking construction of upcycled vintage jewelry.
Operating under the conceptual framework of a “broken chandelier,” the bustier-style top was woven entirely from heavy gemstones, pearls, and crystals, worn over a sleek, high-slit black maxi skirt. But this was not merely an exercise in opulence; it was a highly specific cultural citation. The look was a direct nod to the iconic, jewelry-laden styling of Isabella Rossellini’s character, Lisle von Rhuman, in Robert Zemeckis’s 1992 gothic satire Death Becomes Her.
By eschewing the usual illusion-tulle in favour of heavy, clinking hardware, the look functioned more as armour and sculpture than as a traditional garment. Its vintage-patina jewels glittered with a sense of cinematic history under the harsh flashbulbs. It was a remarkably clever choice for an actress who has meticulously built her public persona on a foundation of gothic intelligence and deadpan macabre. Styled by Enrique Melendez with dark, vampiric lips that contrasted sharply with the bodice’s crystalline glamour, the ensemble functioned as a conversation between two distinct eras of cult film and television. It was a knowing wink to those who understood the reference, a statement about taste, archival preservation, and the formidable power of a well-chosen homage.
Narrative Weaving and Subliminal Signals
Pink, in all its varying degrees of intensity, was the night’s unofficial thematic undercurrent, rendered in every shade from soft rose to shocking fuchsia. Yet, it was Lisa – the Blackpink vocalist making her highly anticipated acting debut in the upcoming third season of The White Lotus – who managed to transcend the monolithic colour trend and deliver a moment of genuine sartorial storytelling.
She arrived in a custom Lever Couture gown that was nothing short of a confection. Constructed from painterly, bubblegum-hued mesh ribbons, the dress was arranged in effervescent, sculptural brushstrokes that seemed to physically swirl around her frame. Featuring an asymmetrical hem, a dramatic thigh-high slit, and a wispy, tapered train, the garment was at once delicate and fiercely structured. The clever layering of mesh created a sense of constant, kinetic movement, a visual trick that Lever Couture has practically patented in recent years.
But the look demanded closer inspection beyond its cotton-candy exterior. Coiling at her throat and wrist were heavy, serpentine Bvlgari Serpenti jewels. The sapphires and diamonds were not merely decorative; they were a sly, subliminal reference to the motifs of her hit HBO show, set to premiere with its own nest of literal and figurative snakes. Lisa’s styling underscored the power of a cohesive narrative on the red carpet. It demonstrated an acute understanding of how a television star can begin telling the story of their character long before the premiere date, using every detail – from the architectural swoops of the fabric to the bite of a diamond serpent – to establish a psychological mood.
A Quiet Epilogue for an Emperor
The most poignant sartorial statements are often those steeped in quiet reverence. The death of Giorgio Armani on September 4, just ten days before the Emmy Awards, cast a long, elegant shadow over the proceedings. While the timing was perhaps too tight for the industry to coordinate a heavy-handed, sweeping tribute, the legendary Italian designer’s enduring influence was palpable. His fingerprints were all over the night’s most understated and powerful silhouettes.
Cate Blanchett, a longtime collaborator, muse, and global ambassador for the brand, arrived to represent her nominated Apple TV+ series Disclaimer. She wore a piece from the Armani Privé Fall/Winter 2025 Couture collection: a masterfully tailored black velvet jumpsuit. It featured a deep, plunging neckline accented with geometric sheer panels and subtle crystal embellishments, anchored by sharp, exaggerated shoulders and crisp white shirt cuffs protruding from the sleeves.
The look spoke of absolute loyalty and a shared aesthetic language built over decades. It was an embodiment of the Armani ethos – a refusal to equate glamour with excess, finding profound beauty in structure and restraint. Other notable attendees, including Keri Russell and Leslie Bibb, also wore Armani designs, their choices serving as a collective, quiet reminder of the designer’s impact on the very concept of awards dressing. Armani perfected a kind of effortless, architectural elegance that eventually became the gold standard for Hollywood’s elite, pioneering the very concept of the red-carpet designer partnership back in the 1980s and 90s. Before Armani, actors largely dressed themselves; Armani brought high fashion to the Hollywood step-and-repeat, transforming it into a multibillion-dollar global marketing apparatus. The presence of his final collections on the carpet felt less like a coincidence and more like a necessary, fitting epilogue to a titanic career that reshaped how the modern celebrity presents themselves to the world.
Disruption of the Male Uniform
For men, the black-tie dress code can often feel like an inescapable uniform – a sartorial straitjacket with very little room for personal expression outside the safe parameters of lapel width and watch choice. The most interesting menswear of the evening, therefore, came from actors who chose to gently and intelligently reimagine those rigid codes without descending into thoughtless novelty.
Sam Nivola, another alumnus of The White Lotus expanding his dramatic footprint, stood out by treating traditional tailoring as a mere suggestion. He arrived in a sharply cropped peak-lapel jacket paired with an intricately embroidered floral waistcoat from Dior. It was a look that fundamentally respected the formality of the occasion while gently subverting its expected proportions. The high crop of the jacket visually elongated the leg, while the floral motif introduced a softness rarely permitted in traditional formal menswear.
Harvey Guillén, the breakout star of What We Do in the Shadows, took a decidedly more dramatic and theatrical approach. His tailoring was worn entirely shirtless, the jacket flowing seamlessly into a dramatic, sweeping train that trailed behind him on the carpet. It was a gesture of high camp and pure, unfiltered confidence, a refusal to be constrained by the historical lines of masculinity. These instances were not loud, colourful protests against the tuxedo; they were quiet, intelligent negotiations with it, asking what the garment could become if its foundational rules were respectfully bent to accommodate modern identities.
The Unvarnished Protest
Amidst the sea of meticulous couture, diamond loans, and carefully calculated brand ambassadorships, the most talked-about statement of the night was undeniably the simplest, and the most raw. Megan Stalter, the comedian and star of the Emmy-winning comedy Hacks, arrived deliberately stripped of the usual Hollywood gloss. She stepped onto the carpet in a plain white T-shirt and casual blue jeans. Taped to her black handbag was a handwritten note in thick black marker: “CEASE FIRE!”
The low-fi nature of the protest stood out violently against the backdrop of luxury fashion, its message rendered all the more stark for its complete lack of polish. It was a powerful use of the platform, a disruption of the fantasy that reminded everyone watching that the red carpet is not a vacuum, but a highly visible node in a real, and often brutal, world. Stalter also wore an Artists4Ceasefire pin, cementing her stance. When questioned on the carpet by Variety regarding her decision to make a political statement at television’s biggest night, Stalter was unequivocal in her moral clarity. “It’s important to stick up for people and for peace, to ask for an end to war,” she stated. “We have to use our platforms. What’s the point of being at these big events if you’re not going to use your privilege?”
Stalter was far from an isolated voice in this regard. Javier Bardem, ever the commanding presence, eschewed traditional neckwear, instead wrapping a keffiyeh around his neck and using his brief red carpet interviews to state his political positions explicitly against the ongoing violence in Gaza. Later, inside the Peacock Theater, Stalter’s Hacks co-star Hannah Einbinder used the highly coveted platform of her acceptance speech for Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy Series to issue an impassioned plea for a “free Palestine,” pushing the political discourse directly onto the main broadcast. The collective message from these artists was crystalline: in the face of ongoing global tragedy, silence – even the glamorous, well-dressed kind – was simply not an option.
It was a night composed of many such conversations. Some were whispered in the arcane language of couture construction, archival fashion history, and subtle character homages. Others were written in thick, uncompromising marker pen on a handbag for the world’s cameras to capture. But together, they created a red carpet that felt remarkably alive, intellectually engaged, and deeply personal. The 77th Emmy Awards proved, definitively, that what an artist chooses to wear is a profound choice. On a stage this large, and under a spotlight this bright, every sartorial decision possesses the potential to speak volumes. The text is written; we merely have to be willing to read it.
