Courtroom Style, But Make It High Fashion
The camp, calculated, and criminal art of celebrity courtroom dressing
Hot Takes are my bullet point thoughts on fashion's hottest issues. These posts get to the heart of why people are talking about what they’re talking about, what this means, and where this could go next.
Let’s set the scene.
By now, we all know the truth: courtroom fashion is not just about dressing appropriately. It’s about dressing strategically. Dressing performatively. Dressing, in some cases, as if the courtroom is the runway. And if you’ve ever wondered what happens when fame collides with felony, look no further than the high-drama, low-morality theatre of celebrity trial style.
Let’s start with the case of Kim Kardashian — reality royalty turned prison reform advocate turned high-glam courtroom witness. When she arrived in Paris earlier this year to testify in the 2016 robbery that saw her bound, gagged, and stripped of $10 million in jewellery, she did not dress down. No. In fact, she did the exact opposite.
Kim K stepped into the Assize Court dripping in vintage spring 1995 John Galliano: strong shoulders, cinched waist, peplum and all, accessorised with an $8,100 Briony Raymond ear cuff and a $3 million Samer Halimeh necklace — yes, to talk about how her diamonds were stolen.Â
Camp? Iconic? Absolutely. Subtle? Not even close.
Some called it a revenge look. Others clocked it as a power move, a way of taking back control where she’d once been violently stripped of it. But make no mistake: Kardashian wasn’t just there to testify. She was there to communicate. To tell the world that she is still the main character in this narrative. A muted outfit might have been more appropriate, but Kimmy doesn’t do beige emotion. She does brand consistency.
We have a voyeuristic obsession with seeing the untouchable undone. We want our celebrities vulnerable, but styled. Suffering, but chic. Watching them teeter on the edge of scandal in head-to-toe designer becomes a kind of blood sport for the fashion-obsessed. It’s courtroom cosplay for the public eye, a high-stakes performance where we scrutinise everything.Â
But this insatiable appetite has consequences. These moments don’t just live in tabloid memory; they ripple through runways, influencer feeds, and street style roundups. Fashion doesn’t simply observe courtroom drama; it metabolises it, sells it back to us. The optics of guilt, glamour, and the possibility of leniency intertwine, revealing how image can subtly shape the outcomes of justice.
All rise… for the outfit.
Perp Walk or Runway? The Style Trials of the Rich and Famous
Celebrity courtroom style is a genre all its own, a strange hybrid of self-preservation, performance art, and media jiu-jitsu. When A$AP Rocky was tried for felony assault in 2025, he didn’t dial it down either. Instead, he gave us a near month-long masterclass in menswear: Saint Laurent suiting, exaggerated trench coats, pinstripes. His daily courthouse struts looked less like a perp walk and more like a prelude to an album launch.
But perhaps no one has leaned into the paradox of court chic quite like Gwyneth Paltrow. During her 2023 ski collision trial, she floated into courtrooms in creamy cashmeres, pleated skirts, and neutrals so pristine they whispered stealth wealth with every swish. It was Goop goes to court. Alpine minimalism at its smuggest. And it worked: she didn’t just win the trial; she reclaimed the quiet luxury narrative in one fell swoop.
This is not new. Courtroom theatrics via fashion have a rich history. Winona Ryder’s 2002 shoplifting trial lives rent-free in our cultural consciousness precisely because of what she wore: a demure black Marc Jacobs dress… from the very designer she was accused of stealing. The audacity! The symbolism! The unbothered queen of the Gen X pout, caught red-handed and camera-ready. Ryder was convicted, but the fashion world forgave her. Jacobs himself later cast her in his campaign, how’s that for a redemption arc?
The courtroom, for celebrities, can be a place of rebranding. A moment to be vulnerable, perform accountability, and flex their street cred. Some go for the demure, while others double down on their image. Cardi B, when facing charges from a 2019 strip club altercation, turned up in fur coats, power suits, and bodycon dresses. Like she was headed to brunch, but make it indictable.
High Fashion, Low Morals: The Camp Spectacle of Courtroom Style
There’s something deliciously subversive about watching a celebrity saunter into a courthouse decked out like they’re accepting an award, not defending themselves against criminal allegations. It’s high-stakes dress-up, with real-world consequences. And it raises a thorny question: when fashion becomes the story, what happens to justice?
Of course, we could argue that this sartorial spectacle diminishes the seriousness of legal proceedings. That showing up to court in designer everything feels disrespectful. Naomi Campbell doing community service in full Dolce & Gabbana was not exactly an ode to humility; it was a flex. A finger in the face of propriety. A reminder that fame isn’t just a shield, it’s a spotlight. And in the court of public opinion, sometimes that matters most.
But here’s the truth: courtroom fashion isn’t about guilt or innocence. It’s about optics. And celebrities, more than anyone, know the power of a first impression. With hours of sitting, staring, and silent judgment broadcast for the world to see, what you wear can become the loudest voice in the room.
So yes, the tradition of courtroom dressing is deeply camp. It's absurd, theatrical, a little tacky, and completely irresistible. You shouldn’t stare, but you absolutely will. And somewhere between the lever arch file and the paparazzi flashbulb, between a guilty verdict and a great outfit, lies the strange, sparkling truth of celebrity culture: no matter how bad the scandal, no one wants to look like a mess.
My two cents.
Ultimately, celebrity courtroom style serves as a cultural mirror — one that reflects our obsession with fame, our appetite for scandal, and our belief that appearances can, in fact, alter reality. What a star wears to court isn’t just a fashion choice; it’s a calculated signal to fans, critics, judges, and juries alike.Â
Are they contrite? Defiant? Untouchable? Relatable? It's all there in the stitching. The courtroom becomes an unlikely stage where reputation, identity, and narrative management are as central as legal arguments — and often far more entertaining.
We may scoff, but we’re complicit. Every time we zoom in on a pearl earring, dissect a pleat, or debate whether a Givenchy blazer feels too smug for a felony hearing, we reinforce the game. Celebrity trials give us permission to indulge in real-life theatre with a side of luxury. They scratch the same itch as a red carpet, but with the added thrill of potential downfall.Â
In the fashion stakes of justice, the judgment is sharper, the accessories more symbolic. When it comes down to it, every collar is a clue, every shoe a statement. And the more surreal the contrast, the more irresistible the spectacle. And we can't seem to look away.
So, where does it go from here?Â
As celebrity culture continues to merge with politics and influence, courtroom appearances are likely to get even more stylised, more memeable, and, let’s face it, more monetisable. Could we see courtroom glam sponsored by a high-end label? An exclusive capsule collection for disgraced billionaires? Stranger things have happened.
Until then, we’ll keep watching the courthouse doors like they’re Paris Fashion Week’s front row — waiting for the next Chanel-clad contrition or Dior-drenched defiance. Because in the end, justice may be blind, but fashion never is.
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