Kimberley Garner enjoyed the Caribbean sun on January 22, 2026, wearing a blue-and-white pattern swimsuit while standing at the shoreline in bare feet.
Nothing fancy here — just sunlight, skin, and slow waves collapsing at the edge of the frame. Kimberley Garner stands mid-surf, still, hair shining gold in the mix of salt and breeze.
She wears a one-piece swimsuit : sky blue and white, marked with a soft baroque print that ripples slightly under the water’s reflection. The cut is clean, high on the thigh, sculpted through the waist. Nothing loud, just the right lines against the neutral sand tone.
Her posture stays loose, one hand brushed across her shoulder, eyes closed like she’s catching the last bit of late afternoon light. The beach isn’t busy — no crowd, no clutter. Just rock face behind her and shallow tide swirling around her feet.
Olivia Ponton was seen in January 2026 wearing a tan Coach trench coat with dark heels and oversized shades while walking through New York City.
Under the cold metal of an overpass, the city hums — trucks, early light, a little wind. Olivia Ponton moves through it like she’s late but unbothered, coat belted at the waist, stride confident.
She’s dressed head to ankle in Coach , the trench a tan suede tone that catches stray streaks of silver from skyscraper glass. The cut falls just past the knee, shaped without fuss. Underneath: black tights, a whisper of sharp tailoring at the cuffs. The shoes, pointed mules with a faint gloss, make a quick rhythm on the pavement.
Kimberley Garner was spotted on a Caribbean beach on January 22, 2026, wearing a yellow string bikini and holding a Coca-Cola can under the sun.
The photo catches warmth before motion — salt haze, soft sand, that unmistakable Caribbean glare. Kimberley Garner stands barefoot near the shoreline, tan under layered sunlight, hair lifting in the breeze.
She wears a bright yellow string bikini , minimal and sharp against the muted beige of the sand. The color does the work here — optimistic, uncomplicated, sunlight in fabric form. The bikini top ties behind her neck and back, while the bottoms hang from slim side cords that dip slightly below the hip bone. A fabric piece, also yellow, wraps casually over one hand, dragging a line through the sand like a paintbrush through dust.
In her other hand, a red Coca-Cola can , a jarring modern accent — metal glint and commercial gleam next to all that nature. Her body language relaxed, somewhere between posing and existing — shoulders loose, one knee soft, the kind of instinctive posture that doesn’t know it’s being watched.
