Courtcore: why the right outfit is as important as a good lawyer

The courtroom is a runway

Santos Paltrow Finch courtcore
(Yasmina Green)

When the film version of To Kill a Mockingbird came out in 1962, America was captivated. In part it was because of the moral force of Harper Lee’s story about a lawyer who does what today’s Twitter progressives will not: think twice about whether a mere accusation is enough to convict a supposedly shitty man. But it was also because, to put it plainly, the hero Atticus Finch was played by Gregory Peck in a loosely fitting but perfectly tailored gray three-piece suit. And, well, Peck looked hot.  

George Santos is not hot, but he is an icon….

When the film version of To Kill a Mockingbird came out in 1962, America was captivated. In part it was because of the moral force of Harper Lee’s story about a lawyer who does what today’s Twitter progressives will not: think twice about whether a mere accusation is enough to convict a supposedly shitty man. But it was also because, to put it plainly, the hero Atticus Finch was played by Gregory Peck in a loosely fitting but perfectly tailored gray three-piece suit. And, well, Peck looked hot.  

George Santos is not hot, but he is an icon. In the last year or so he has hit the headlines for his perfectly curated preppy fashion that make him look like an oversized prep school kid. The Washington Post described his look as “bland but utterly unforgettable.” (My gay friends tell me that he’s up there in the Gay Icon Hall of Fame next to Lana Del Rey and Marianne Williamson.) And he may soon, like Atticus, be spending some time in court. He’s pleading not guilty to thirteen criminal charges, including wire fraud and money laundering, some of which was ironically — and allegedly — spent on kitting himself out with a designer wardrobe.

Luckily for the fame-hungry congressman, a few weeks in court isn’t career suicide anymore, as long as you get it right. You can pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for the best hotshot lawyer, but what they don’t teach you in law school is that now you can win over the public with little more than a good cashmere sweater. I use this example because a good cashmere sweater was key to what I believe was one of the greatest PR moves of modern times.

A few months back, the wellness-hawking actress and vagina candle merchant Gwyneth Paltrow transformed her public image in just one week, after she was taken to court by a retired optometrist who accused her of breaking his ribs and causing permanent brain damage in a ski incident. I won’t go into the details of the case. They aren’t important. What is important is how Paltrow transformed her image from unpleasant, ridiculous celebrity to America’s organic, sugar-free sweetheart, simply by dressing the part. Days before the trial, Paltrow was blasted for “endorsing disordered eating” when she talked about how she spends her days intermittent fasting and sipping bone broth. Days later, GQ splashed the headline, “Gwyneth Paltrow Dressed Brilliantly for the Court of Public Opinion.” Fox News ran with, “Gwyneth Paltrow’s conservative court fashion earns easy win.” 

Analyzing Paltrow’s aesthetic, New York Times’s resident critic wrote that it was “a new style subgenre that ought henceforth to be known as courtcore.” A meme had been born — and a meme is just a fashion by another name.

There aren’t set rules for courtcore. In Legally Blonde, Elle Woods used exaggerated femininity to ensure she’s discounted at the first glance. The assumption that she was dumb became her greatest asset; the blonde hair, pretty face and great breasts were just a plus. Anna Delvey’s court looks had their own Instagram account with over 50,000 followers. She hired professional stylist Anastasia Walker to dress her every day she appeared in court. Walker, who has dressed the likes of Courtney Love, Morgan Freeman and more recently Sydney Sweeney, later claimed that she sent Yves Saint Laurent to Delvey in prison. But Delvey’s fashion had a different purpose; instead of proclaiming her innocence with her look, she leaned into her villainy. The courtroom to her was nothing but a runway and the F/W season was where she would showcase the plunging Michael Kors shift dress, the sheer black Saint Laurent top, the black choker necklace and her signature thick Céline frames. She must have done something right; soon after, Elle ran a guide entitled How to Dress Like Anna Delvey This Halloween with the very same court look described above.

It may seem obvious. Any half decent lawyer will tell their clients to dress in a conservative and respectful manner. But courtcore is slightly different. It is less about the clothing itself — anyone can throw on an expensive suit, after all — and more about how the person in it comes across to a jury. Do you trust this woman? Would you let her babysit your children? Does she look the type to break the ribs of an innocent man on a ski slope? Vogue described Paltrow’s look as “pared-back, pristine and perfectly pitched.” In other words, this was the clothing of a woman with a clean conscience. May it please the court.

Scrutiny of courthouse fashion isn’t just for the defendant. For better or worse (your honor), all eyes were on Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird. To use a real-life example, last year in the Depp v. Heard defamation trial, Depp’s lawyer Camille Vasquez went from a relatively unknown attorney to a woman with multiple fan pages made for her on Instagram. Some went as far as researching her skincare routine and spent hours traipsing the internet to find the exact pair of Alexander McQueen trousers she wore to court. Amal Clooney’s courtroom style has long been hailed a masterclass in workwear. It isn’t hard to see why, when she turned up to London’s Doughty Street chambers in her slouchy pinstripe suit by Dolce & Gabbana, she was sure to knock the wig off any stuffy British judge. 

All we’ve seen so far from the Santos legal saga are a few paparazzi pictures and a courtroom sketch from his plea hearing. That sketch, in which the artist uses pink and purple liberally, looks like an AI-generated photo of a sexy, camp Bond villain. You have to admit that the Ray-Bans, the Hermès bracelet, the perfectly set foundation and pursed lips, which I suspect have been recently filled with Juvederm, are statement making. No wonder Santos is being labeled by camp Twitter as “the People’s Princess.” 

Our clothes are after all tools not just for self-expression and staying warm, but also for how we want the world to perceive us. With Depp v. Heard, Amber mimicked the style of her ex-husband when it was clear that he was winning in the court of public opinion. Paltrow leaned into her snobbery and Anna Delvey treated the whole thing as a free Instagram shoot. It worked: she’s made far more money post-prison than what she was convicted of stealing. Whatever the verdict is with George Santos, I suspect that the court appearances will do nothing but elevate his standing as an icon, even if this does destroy his political career. After all, badly dressed felons seldom make history. 

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