Katherine LaNasa wore a white textured midi dress with a capelet shoulder detail and black pumps for The View in January 2026.
Outside the studios of The View in New York on January 29, Katherine LaNasa stepped onto the sidewalk dressed like she had already answered every question—and didn’t overexplain any of it.
She wore a white textured midi-length dress , softly structured, printed with subtle dashes or micro-stripes that barely broke the clean palette. The silhouette leaned classic but carried modern sharpness, thanks to a built-in capelet shoulder detail —wide, sculpted, almost armor-like, but softened by the fabric’s bend. Sleeves capped, waist cinched with a narrow same-fabric belt knotted askew, just imperfect enough to disrupt the polish.
The front slit curved up just enough to bring breath to the look. Not sass—just room to walk with ease. She paired it with black pointed-toe pumps , classic, a bit glossy. The kind that say, “Yes, I walked here. And yes, they still work.”
In her hand, a structured black clutch with a gold hardware clasp—plain, direct, needed. On her face, oversized dark sunglasses , not costume-y, just there for purpose. That hint of lipstick red and pinned-back platinum hair said all the rest. Starched where it matters. Relaxed where it doesn’t.
Nothing demanded your attention. Everything earned it. LaNasa’s look didn’t chase relevance—it just stayed ready for it.
Kate Ritchie wore black bike shorts, a relaxed T-shirt, and sneakers while walking her dog in Sydney’s Centennial Parklands in January 2026.
Spotted in Sydney’s Centennial Parklands on January 29, Kate Ritchie didn’t dress for the camera—she dressed for the sun, for the dog, and let comfort cover the rest.
She wore a completely unbothered black-on-black combination : fitted bike shorts reaching mid-thigh and a slightly oversized T-shirt with a soft crew neckline and roomy sleeves. It wasn’t styled. It was lived in. Fabric moved with her, not against her. There’s not a stitch of branding in sight—no logo flashing, no forced sport-core agenda. Just clothes that breathe.
Her sneakers— black with blue-green detailing —look broken in, maybe a few hundred dog-walks past new. Not pristine, but clearly used with intent. Function first. A slim black baseball cap tucked most of her face in shade, with her hair looped into a low pony poking through the back. On her wrist, one practical fitness watch , possibly a tracker band. On the other: a thick pink leash , trailing a floppy-eared spaniel with its tongue out like it owned the sidewalk.
She moved casual, head down, leash in one hand, phone in the other. Not ducking attention, just moving through it. No curated vibe. Just everyday ease that doesn’t apologize for being normal.
Julia Garcia wore a wine lace gown with peep-toe heels for the Scream 7 x Meta Creator event in Los Angeles on February 3, 2026.
At the Scream 7 x Meta Creator Event in Los Angeles on February 3, Julia Garcia didn’t shy away from drama—but she kept hers romantic, not slasher. Standing next to Ghostface, she nailed the contrast: soft curves, deep tone, clean lines… and zero fear.
She wore a plum-red lace dress , full-length and form-skimming, with a plunging neckline edged in scalloped lace. The fabric clung where it should and relaxed where it could, no slit, no bells or whistles. It wasn’t flashy. Just fitted. A dress that works when you stand still and ruins nothing when you move.
Shoes? Champagne satin peep-toe platforms . Glossy, rounded at the front, high enough to polish the look without dragging it toward old-Hollywood cliché. Jewelry stayed light—small hoops, maybe pavé, and a single pendant necklace. No hard sparkle. A few gold rings, nothing overstuffed. Hair was styled loose but pinned up slightly in the back—half pony or twist, soft waves falling forward. Not overproduced.
Her makeup walked the same line—brows groomed, cheeks flushed, lips in that fleshy pink-beige that’s less about color and more about finish. It all felt lived in. She knew she was stepping into a horror theme, but chose intimacy instead of costume.
There’s a quiet power in showing up to a gimmick-heavy space wearing something that’s just beautiful—and refusing to match the chaos.
