Nicole Kidman, 57, shows off her stunning figure in racy 'brat' singlet at Charli XCX concert in New York
The Australian A-list actress, 57, took to Instagram Stories on Sunday to share a stunning photo of herself at the English singer's concert.
Kidman donned a punk-inspired ensemble complete with a figure-hugging lack black tank top tucked into baggy jeans, a black jacket and sunglasses.
The Babygirl star pulled her signature strawberry blonde locks into a high ponytail and posed with her hands on her hips.
"Great night NYC," she wrote over the photo taken before a Charli XCX-branded lime green wall with the word 'brat' in bold black letters.
After the Von dutch hitmaker released her high-energy dance-pop album Brat in 2024, the term has dominated popular culture around the world.
Collins Dictionary announced brat as its 2024 word of the year and defined it as 'a confident, independent, and hedonistic attitude.'
The album inspired TikTok dances, marketing campaigns, and fashion trends which led Gen Z and millennials to coin the term 'brat summer'.
Kidman embraced the now-iconic album cover turned whole aesthetic as she danced to Charli XCX's hit Apple in the crowd of concert revellers.
Footage of the world-famous star shared by Pop Crave on X showed Kidman laughing along as she moved to the song's TikTok-inspired dance.
Bemused fans flooded the comments to dub Kidman and Charli XCX as the unexpected crossover no one saw coming.
"Nicole at a Charli XCX concert? That's the kind of crossover I didn't know I needed," one person said.
"OMG! Nicole Kidman at a Charli XCX concert? That's iconic! I can only imagine the vibes were immaculate. Wish I could have been there to witness that!" a third person said.
"Always beautiful," one more person said.
It comes as Kidman attended the 2025 annual Met Gala at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhatten, New York on Tuesday.
The Holland star turned heads in a recreation of a black sculptural 1951 gown by the luxury Spanish fashion house Balenciaga.
Her hair was chopped into a striking blonde mullet, which Kidman brushed back as she posed for photos on the red carpet.
This year's Met theme, 'Superfine: Tailoring Black Style', saw celebrities craft looks inspired by author Monica L. Miller's 2009 novel Slaves to Fashion: Black Dandyism and the Styling of Black Diasporic Identity.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles

Sky News AU
6 hours ago
- Sky News AU
Stella women's literary prize picks battle with non-existent enemy as it fights 'male gender bias' in the book industry
Australia's 2026 Stella Prize - for women authors - includes a male judge. If inclusivity is embraced to the extent that gender is no impediment to judging a gender-specific prize, then inclusivity has been rendered relativist to the extent of being just ideology with good branding. Paradoxically, it would be considered insensitive, in the current climate, to allege that a male judge was hindering representation and the distinctive voice of dozens of prospective female judges, whose lived experience and perspectives as women might make them inherently more suitable as a judge of a literary prize from which men are exempt as entrants. The Stella Prize claims to fight for gender equality. The Stella website says it 'takes an intersectional feminist approach to privilege and discrimination. We are committed to actively dismantling all structural barriers to inclusion for women and non-binary writers'. This is a sociocultural delusion, ignoring that the publishing industry is disproportionately, almost overwhelmingly dominated by women - roughly 60 to 70 per cent of Australian novels published in recent years have been written by women. The most up-to-date Lee & Low publishing survey found that 71 per cent of people in the US industry are women, including 74 per cent in editorial roles, 70 per cent of book reviewers, and 78 per cent of literary agents, with that number replicated in a scroll through the Australian Literary Agents Association website. Stella boasts: "… Data-driven initiatives – including our long-running Stella Count - collect, analyse, and distribute research on gender bias in the Australian literary sector." Looking at their reports, the findings indicate the systemic bias they allude to is an illusion: 55 per cent of the reviews in Australian newspapers and periodicals are of female authors, Stella's own report found. Similarly, "gender distribution of reviewers by publication" found women leading in eight of the twelve sampled publications. Benjamin Law, the male judge in question, is an Australian writer and broadcaster, and a founding member of the Australian Writers' Guild's Diversity and Inclusion Action Committee. He read Jessie Tu's The Honeyeater and "thought it slapped hard." And he is a massive Torrey Peters "stan". Peters is the author of 'Detransition, Baby' - possibly the most insufferable, archly preening novel of the last ten years. The socio-cultural carve-out here could feasibly be that the prize is also open to non-binary writers, which would open it up to LGBTQ authors, which could just about open it to Law. After all, the prize states: "We recognise that what it means to be a woman is not static and that rigid gender binaries reinforce inequality," suggesting that lived experience as a girl or woman is not a prerequisite to win a woman-oriented literature prize. From the submission criteria: "Entry is open to women and non-binary writers who identify with the Prize's purpose to promote Australian women's writing, in ways that align with the writer's own gender identity. This includes cis women, trans women and non-binary people." In this regard, non-binary writers have been granted a cultural skeleton-key to enter practically any literary competition. With the greatest sensitivity, in interviews and public profiles - including Men's Health, Star Observer, Sunday Guardian Live, SBS Voices, and Wikipedia – Mr Law consistently talks about being gay, with no mention of non binary identity. So there is, at best, an absolutely tenuous connection to the stipulation of "promoting Australian women's writing, in ways that align with the writer's own gender identity". At about this stage, the ideological prevarication and identity-sensitive pussyfooting will have turned your brain to mush. Womanhood, we're told, is an immutable characteristic - rooted in unique, lived experience that demands nurturing and protection in a literary world vulnerable to male hegemony (a hegemony that, statistically, ceased to exist a decade ago). Simultaneously, womanhood is mutable - open to self-declared gender fluidity, to non-binary redefinition, to the idea of a gendered soul. So, if you're a woman, submitting your manuscript to the women's only Stella prize, be conscious of the possibility of your work being assessed by a man - a culturally tuned-in, diverse, LGBTQ identifying published man - but a man, nonetheless. By 2012, when the Stella Prize was introduced, Australian publishing was already female-majority across all layers of gatekeeping, from editors to publicists and agents. In 2012, masculine themes (war, rural isolation, generational stoicism, etc.) were still critically respectable. Even non-urban, non-identity-centric male stories had a place. Literary agents were still receptive to quiet male protagonists, postcolonial masculine narratives, stories about fathers, veterans, male friendship, etc. But these were already waning. By 2012, diversity discourse was emerging forcefully. Male-authored manuscripts that didn't engage identity themes were becoming less fashionable, especially if they lacked a distinct 'hook' (e.g., trauma, cultural hybridity, queerness, etc.). There were already whispers in editorial circles about needing more 'own voices,' more 'underrepresented perspectives,' and less 'middle-aged white man navel-gazing.' Now, there is a strong diversity / identity tilt, and increasing ambivalence to traditional masculinity, which almost always must be shouldered with quotation marks. Masculine narrative spaces are borderline extinct, outside of genre writing. Male writers in 2025, submitting literary fiction that reflects traditional or psychologically subtle masculinity, face less editorial enthusiasm, fewer agenting opportunities, and lower prize prospects, meaning the situation for men, is now worse than it was for women when they felt compelled to band together to create the women's only Stella prize for literature in 2012. But even if someone instituted a male-only publishing prize - and imagine the opprobrium and scorn around that - It wouldn't occur to me to enter it, because any gender-specific prize, in 2025, is banal and dated. Nicholas Sheppard is an accomplished journalist whose work has been featured in The Spectator, The NZ Herald and Politico. He is also a published literary author and public relations consultant

The Age
6 hours ago
- The Age
‘It must be in the DNA somewhere' - Annie star credits her famous gran
Mackenzie Dunn might well be the best antidote for anyone catastrophising about our fraught world. She has dreams. She has verve, and she has the talent to bring some of theatre's sassiest roles to the stage. Cast as the dopey but spirited Lily St. Regis in a new Annie production, she shares the stage with Australian luminaries such as Anthony Warlow. At 30, she has an infectious optimism, intelligence and a clear sense of her role in Australia's music theatre scene. In fact, her cheerful nature echoes the very heart of Annie's appeal. Just as Annie brims with optimism in the grim surrounds of her 1930s orphanage, there's something about Dunn that's heartening amid our doomscrolling and global anxieties. Perched in a chilly rehearsal room with a snug yellow beanie and opinions to spare, she's a spirited advocate both for original new Australian work, and for comforting revivals. 'People still need hope. I think its good to go back to your inner child no matter what age you are, and Annie reminds us of family and of passion. We need something that's uplifting and I think Annie is the perfect show for any age.' In her iconic red dress, Annie is brave and optimistic amid depression-era misery. Based originally on the comic strip Little Orphan Annie that began in the 1920s, the tale tells of mean Miss Hannigan and her brood of neglected little girls. Annie is rescued by a would-be philanthropist, Oliver 'Daddy' Warbucks, who offers to host an orphan for a short spell in his mansion. Escaping squalor, Annie gets a taste of luxury and love. Inexplicably, American president Franklin D. Roosevelt makes an appearance – with a bit to say about the New Deal, a nod to Annie's sense of fairness – and the dastardly duo of Rooster and his gold-digging girlfriend Lily set off to dupe Warbucks, and make money out of Annie's sudden good fortune. The original Broadway musical, created by Charles Strouse and Martin Charnin, opened in 1977 and blitzed that year's Tony Awards. Chernin's reflections very much bear out the need for hope and light in dark times.

Sydney Morning Herald
6 hours ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘It must be in the DNA somewhere' - Annie star credits her famous gran
Mackenzie Dunn might well be the best antidote for anyone catastrophising about our fraught world. She has dreams. She has verve, and she has the talent to bring some of theatre's sassiest roles to the stage. Cast as the dopey but spirited Lily St. Regis in a new Annie production, she shares the stage with Australian luminaries such as Anthony Warlow. At 30, she has an infectious optimism, intelligence and a clear sense of her role in Australia's music theatre scene. In fact, her cheerful nature echoes the very heart of Annie's appeal. Just as Annie brims with optimism in the grim surrounds of her 1930s orphanage, there's something about Dunn that's heartening amid our doomscrolling and global anxieties. Perched in a chilly rehearsal room with a snug yellow beanie and opinions to spare, she's a spirited advocate both for original new Australian work, and for comforting revivals. 'People still need hope. I think its good to go back to your inner child no matter what age you are, and Annie reminds us of family and of passion. We need something that's uplifting and I think Annie is the perfect show for any age.' In her iconic red dress, Annie is brave and optimistic amid depression-era misery. Based originally on the comic strip Little Orphan Annie that began in the 1920s, the tale tells of mean Miss Hannigan and her brood of neglected little girls. Annie is rescued by a would-be philanthropist, Oliver 'Daddy' Warbucks, who offers to host an orphan for a short spell in his mansion. Escaping squalor, Annie gets a taste of luxury and love. Inexplicably, American president Franklin D. Roosevelt makes an appearance – with a bit to say about the New Deal, a nod to Annie's sense of fairness – and the dastardly duo of Rooster and his gold-digging girlfriend Lily set off to dupe Warbucks, and make money out of Annie's sudden good fortune. The original Broadway musical, created by Charles Strouse and Martin Charnin, opened in 1977 and blitzed that year's Tony Awards. Chernin's reflections very much bear out the need for hope and light in dark times.