Fashionista has tabulated her fashion credits, which include quiet-luxury brands like Celine, The Row, and, of course, her own G. Label. But the look is less about branding than WASPy restraint, a territory Paltrow has been tilling for decades now. She comes by it honestly—it’s in her bones. (Even her ski outfit, she claimed on the stand, is one she’s owned for years; she said she dresses to blend in on the slopes.) Chic ski gear and tennis whites have proliferated since the pandemic, and old-money aesthetic feels like the antidote to the look-at-me, trend-enthralled world of TikTok. Fashion’s ongoing fascination with women like Carolyn Bessette Kennedy and Princess Diana and the stealth-wealth looks on Succession has only begun to burn. In an era of watered-down luxury, there’s a fascination with the idea of an innate style that you can’t buy. And Paltrow is its embodiment.
The courtroom can be almost as heightened a fashion hothouse as the runway or red carpet, as plaintiffs, defendants, and witnesses try to walk the uneasy tightrope of looking stylish but not superficial, trustworthy but not dowdy, tasteful but not ostentatious. No wonder Anna Delvey’s courtroom looks got their own Instagram account, Winona Ryder’s Marc Jacobs wardrobe is still a touchstone, and Cardi B followed up her many designer moments in court with a panoply of community service fashions. If designers are, like the rest of us, tuning in to Court TV, we might well see a new muse for spring 2024.
Alexander Ross has covered the video game industry for a decade, writing deep dives on game design, esports tournaments, VR developments, and gaming culture.
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