Ella Mendelsohn wore a plum button-down, mid-wash jeans, and black pointed boots to the Good American Fall 2026 preview in New York City.
At the Good American Fall 2026 Preview in New York City on February 3, Ella Mendelsohn showed up looking like she walked straight out of a cool-weather mood board. Firelight behind her, denim underfoot, she nailed that in-between zone: not dressed up, not careless—just confident.
She wore a plum button-down shirt , slightly oversized, sleeves loose, collar open to the second button. The fabric looks like lightweight cotton or brushed twill—matte, lived-in, with just enough structure not to collapse. It’s tucked casually into a pair of mid-wash straight-leg jeans : clean, not distressed, the kind with a real waistband and a silhouette that nods vintage without parodying it.
Footwear: black pointed-toe boots , probably leather. Slim profile, sharp toe—strong enough to ground the softness above, subtle enough to stay out of the way. She kept accessories minimal: gold rings on one hand, and what looks like a small shoulder bag tucked just behind her arm.
Hair worn down in gentle waves—center-parted, slightly glossy, not flat-ironed to death. Makeup natural but defined: warm-toned blush, brushed brows, and a neutral gloss that finishes it without tipping it into “done.”
This wasn’t a fashion show guest trying to steal thunder. Mendelsohn showed that sometimes presence doesn’t need punctuation—it just needs a good shirt, a fire, and self-assured shoulders.
Lili Reinhart wore a textured burgundy gown with a sweetheart neckline and matching peep-toe heels at SCAD TVfest in February 2026.
At the 2026 SCAD TVfest in Atlanta, Lili Reinhart stood calm and wine-toned against a black-and-gold backdrop—Spotlight Award trophy in hand, posture set like someone who’s been here before, but still appreciates the moment.
She wore a deep burgundy gown , close-fitted through the body in a matte textured fabric. Not sparkly. Not floaty. Something almost jacquard, or lace backed by structure. It hugged the frame straight down with slight flare at the hem—not dramatic, just enough to let it move. The neckline carried everything: slightly off-the-shoulder, molded into a soft sweetheart curve , edged with scallops and tiny gathers that added visual lift without over-designing.
Footwear was color-matched burgundy peep-toe heels , barely peeking under the hem, just enough height to keep everything elevated. Accessories? Minimal. One cocktail ring, low-key manicure to match the dress, and no visible bag. Hair pulled back into a soft twist or bun (the back isn’t visible, but it’s not loose), clean with a few flyaways—natural on purpose. Skin looked fresh, blush high, brows brushed and held in place. No shimmer overload. Just enough highlighting to catch the lens without catching too much attention.
She didn’t layer on fashion. She wore something that stays close, feels confident, and leaves space for the actual moment. No hard lines. No high gloss. Just quiet texture and a dress that understood where it needed to stop.
Emma Raducanu wore a color-blocked athletic dress and neon wristbands during her second round match win at the Winners Open in February 2026.
During her second-round match against Kaja Juvan at the Winners Open in Cluj-Napoca, Romania, Emma Raducanu stepped onto the hard court looking fast, focused, and visually dialed in. No elaborate styling, no entrance act—just a player in gear that felt matched to movement.
Her court kit was a sleeveless, asymmetrical athletic dress , color-blocked in dynamic tones. A cobalt and periwinkle base cut sharply with a black front panel created just enough optical play without looking gimmicky. Thin neon trim along the arms added bite, landing somewhere between utility and highlight reel detail. The back wasn’t fully visible, but the structure was built for motion—tailored up top, flared in the skirt, split on the hem for flexibility. Nothing clingy. Nothing heavy.
She wore matching neon wristbands , wide enough to register, coordinated with her edging. Her fingernails, painted a sharp traffic-light red, peeked through against her racket frame as she adjusted grip between points. Hair was pulled half-back for clarity—no flyaways, no fuss. No earrings, no ring clutter. Just game face and raw court presence.
Tennis gear is usually read as functional first, stylistic second. But Raducanu’s look worked because it didn’t try to impress—it just did what needed doing, beautifully, and kept moving.
