Elizabeth Hurley and Billy Ray Cyrus Turn CMA Red Carpet Into a Rom-Com

Mia Reynolds, 11/20/2025Elizabeth Hurley and Billy Ray Cyrus turn heads at the 2025 CMA Awards, showcasing a fresh romance that blends Hollywood glamour with Nashville charm. Their chemistry and shared backgrounds hint at deeper stories, making this red carpet moment one of the night’s most intriguing highlights.

It’s not every night the CMA press line pauses, but Hurley—sixty, unapologetically glamorous—wore her wrap dress as if the afterparty started at her doorstep. That plunging neckline, the bold keyhole, the slit slicing skyward just enough to stir a southern breeze: none of it felt performative, just strikingly self-assured. Her waves tumbled over one shoulder, crimson lips matching the dress, and her platforms suggested she could hoof it the length of Broadway without a single wince. It wasn’t pageant flash, either—just a couple of deep-drop earrings, a slim bracelet, and the sense that she’s been here before, even if, technically, she hasn’t.

The man on her arm? Billy Ray, decked in all black—from crisp jacket to jeans—his look a nod to the old guard but with a hint of joyful mischief. Aviators perched where they always do, cowboy hat angled just so, a couple of his shirt buttons left open, as though to let a breeze through or maybe show off a cross and a chest as familiar to American pop culture as Sunday morning commercials. Call it the aura of a dad who became a meme and a chart-topping rebel all at once; there’s a lived-in sparkle to his grin that doesn’t just lend authenticity—it’s practically its own theme song.

Together, their chemistry was less tabloid spectacle and more two souls catching a second wind. They didn’t posture for the lens; instead, laughter bubbled up in those unscripted gaps between flashes. Was it new love or something further along the mile marker of experience? Tough to say. Billy Ray’s social post on the eve of the show read like the grown-up version of a handwritten note left on the kitchen table—earnest, not syrupy, full of those little breathless exclamations you expect from someone legitimately happy and, perhaps, a little surprised.

Some might raise an eyebrow at the pairing (Hollywood meets Tennessee tradition, after all), but 2025’s red carpet had room enough to swallow such caution. Their shared roots—bonded on a Christmas movie set a few years back, if the gossip is true—go deeper than a lightweight headline. Word is they’d watched every season of “Nashville” together; you can almost imagine Hurley humming along to every Hayden Panettiere ballad while Billy Ray supplies harmonies. Probably didn’t smugly call it “research,” either; likely just collected the mood.

On the subject of that public debut, a small hum of secrecy trailed them—friends apparently kept in the dark (one sly source hinted at a sworn pact of silence), all culminating in a reveal that put the usual slow-reveal Instagram strategy to shame. There was no mistaking it: this walk was a statement, not an accident.

As for the ceremony itself, Hurley and Cyrus didn’t just play the game of star plus plus-one. Presenters for Single of the Year, they were wedged in a lineup spanning Steve Martin to LeAnn Rimes, Billy Bob Thornton floating somewhere in the mix—a jamboree only Nashville could pull off. It said something about the CMAs in 2025: genre lines keep blurring, old rules make space for new faces, and being an “outsider” is more a badge of honor than a gatecrasher’s pass. If Hurley’s neckline or Billy Ray’s fashion choices ruffled a feather or two, well—this is country music, where a little irreverence never goes out of style.

Yet the baggage (and really, who doesn’t have it by sixty?) was part of the moment’s odd warmth. Cyrus has the sort of sprawling family tree that could fill a small amphitheater, including a pop icon daughter and a jukebox of crisscrossed marriages; Hurley, no stranger to the headlines, has her own long reel of romances and a grown son starting to carve his path. In interviews, she played it cool—barely a shrug, quietly listing off their mutual taste for laughter, wide open spaces, two-step soundtracks, and, in her words, “cowboy boots, definitely.” It didn’t play like a dodge, just the reality of two adults who’ve circled around the block more than once.

It’s hard not to catch hope from that scene, even for cynics. There’s something deliciously upending—almost cheeky—about a couple striding into the thick of Nashville’s most tradition-soaked night, radiant, a little patched up from the journey, yet open to whatever spark’s next. Maybe that’s the unofficial story this year: Sheen and shimmer, yes, but also the possibility of an unscripted second (or third) act. Hurley and Cyrus didn’t just play along—they left the impression that the boldest verses haven’t yet been written.

So, in the echo of applause and the rustle of rhinestone, the message lingers. Whether in verse or in life, nobody gets to the chorus without wading through a verse or two. And maybe, for those still tuning in, the encore’s the sweetest surprise of all.

Spotlights swung across the entrance just as Elizabeth Hurley stepped onto the 2025 CMA Awards red carpet, her scarlet dress sending crimson ripples through a crowd otherwise blanketed in silver fringe and sequins. She wasn’t simply arriving—she was owning the story, threading her arm confidently through Billy Ray Cyrus’s, and together, they might as well have been the leads in a late-summer rom-com set somewhere between Mayfair and Music City. You could almost hear a pedal steel sighing in the background.It’s not every night the CMA press line pauses, but Hurley—sixty, unapologetically glamorous—wore her wrap dress as if the afterparty started at her doorstep. That plunging neckline, the bold keyhole, the slit slicing skyward just enough to stir a southern breeze: none of it felt performative, just strikingly self-assured. Her waves tumbled over one shoulder, crimson lips matching the dress, and her platforms suggested she could hoof it the length of Broadway without a single wince. It wasn’t pageant flash, either—just a couple of deep-drop earrings, a slim bracelet, and the sense that she’s been here before, even if, technically, she hasn’t.The man on her arm? Billy Ray, decked in all black—from crisp jacket to jeans—his look a nod to the old guard but with a hint of joyful mischief. Aviators perched where they always do, cowboy hat angled just so, a couple of his shirt buttons left open, as though to let a breeze through or maybe show off a cross and a chest as familiar to American pop culture as Sunday morning commercials. Call it the aura of a dad who became a meme and a chart-topping rebel all at once; there’s a lived-in sparkle to his grin that doesn’t just lend authenticity—it’s practically its own theme song.Together, their chemistry was less tabloid spectacle and more two souls catching a second wind. They didn’t posture for the lens; instead, laughter bubbled up in those unscripted gaps between flashes. Was it new love or something further along the mile marker of experience? Tough to say. Billy Ray’s social post on the eve of the show read like the grown-up version of a handwritten note left on the kitchen table—earnest, not syrupy, full of those little breathless exclamations you expect from someone legitimately happy and, perhaps, a little surprised.Some might raise an eyebrow at the pairing (Hollywood meets Tennessee tradition, after all), but 2025’s red carpet had room enough to swallow such caution. Their shared roots—bonded on a Christmas movie set a few years back, if the gossip is true—go deeper than a lightweight headline. Word is they’d watched every season of “Nashville” together; you can almost imagine Hurley humming along to every Hayden Panettiere ballad while Billy Ray supplies harmonies. Probably didn’t smugly call it “research,” either; likely just collected the mood.On the subject of that public debut, a small hum of secrecy trailed them—friends apparently kept in the dark (one sly source hinted at a sworn pact of silence), all culminating in a reveal that put the usual slow-reveal Instagram strategy to shame. There was no mistaking it: this walk was a statement, not an accident.As for the ceremony itself, Hurley and Cyrus didn’t just play the game of star plus plus-one. Presenters for Single of the Year, they were wedged in a lineup spanning Steve Martin to LeAnn Rimes, Billy Bob Thornton floating somewhere in the mix—a jamboree only Nashville could pull off. It said something about the CMAs in 2025: genre lines keep blurring, old rules make space for new faces, and being an “outsider” is more a badge of honor than a gatecrasher’s pass. If Hurley’s neckline or Billy Ray’s fashion choices ruffled a feather or two, well—this is country music, where a little irreverence never goes out of style.Yet the baggage (and really, who doesn’t have it by sixty?) was part of the moment’s odd warmth. Cyrus has the sort of sprawling family tree that could fill a small amphitheater, including a pop icon daughter and a jukebox of crisscrossed marriages; Hurley, no stranger to the headlines, has her own long reel of romances and a grown son starting to carve his path. In interviews, she played it cool—barely a shrug, quietly listing off their mutual taste for laughter, wide open spaces, two-step soundtracks, and, in her words, “cowboy boots, definitely.” It didn’t play like a dodge, just the reality of two adults who’ve circled around the block more than once.It’s hard not to catch hope from that scene, even for cynics. There’s something deliciously upending—almost cheeky—about a couple striding into the thick of Nashville’s most tradition-soaked night, radiant, a little patched up from the journey, yet open to whatever spark’s next. Maybe that’s the unofficial story this year: Sheen and shimmer, yes, but also the possibility of an unscripted second (or third) act. Hurley and Cyrus didn’t just play along—they left the impression that the boldest verses haven’t yet been written.So, in the echo of applause and the rustle of rhinestone, the message lingers. Whether in verse or in life, nobody gets to the chorus without wading through a verse or two. And maybe, for those still tuning in, the encore’s the sweetest surprise of all.