Vanessa Friedman is the chief fashion critic for the New York Times, and she decided to set her gaze on Prince Harry and his court fashion. Thank god! I’m still not tired of dissecting Harry’s California glow-up. The old version of Harry bought discounted shirts at TK Maxx and wore the same suede shoes with every outfit. California Harry wears Dior suits and beautifully crafted designer shoes, with a high polish. The Duchess of Sussex is a former actress and model, plus I think Meghan just has a good eye, a good baseline aesthetic, and her style has rubbed off on Harry. He puts care into how he presents himself, how he dresses for the occasion. It was nice of Vanessa Friedman to notice:

Now, thanks to his two days of testimony in London’s High Court in the phone hacking trial against the Mirror Newspaper Group, there is one more Harry: the serious private citizen, girded to fight for the right of all against the untoward intrusions of the British tabloid press.

It is the first time a royal has testified in court since 1891, and his appearance can reframe not just what that looks like for history, but also what Harry represents. After all, there are no cameras in the courtroom, so the entrance imagery is what the world sees even before they read reports about what is said (if they read reports about what is said). It is the basis on which new public opinion is formed.

This Harry wears neatly tailored single-breasted dark suits — deep navy on Tuesday, dark gray on Wednesday, shaded to convey the somber nature of the situation (also not Dior, according to the brand — at least not “to our knowledge,” a Dior spokeswoman said). Skinny ties in single shades just hint at his royal status: a purple so dark it was almost black, a light silver. Pure white shirts with slightly shrunken collars and black shoes shined to a high gloss.

His silhouette, like his ties, is narrow with just a whiff of California, rather than Savile Row, in the line. There is very little to distract from his words, save for the occasional flash of a rope bracelet when he waves at the watching public.

“The entire ensemble is ‘spare’ of detail,” said Joseph Rosenfeld, an image consultant for executives in New York and Silicon Valley, nodding to Harry’s former identity as the spare. The effect is traditional enough to be respectful without seeming hidebound, Mr. Rosenfeld said. “The man knows, whether he likes it or not, that many eyes are upon him.”

The effect is of someone somber and entirely unruffled, though also, thanks to his scruffy beard — the one Harry once described as a “shield” from anxiety — himself…He more closely resembles a successful businessman (one who works somewhere other than the family “firm”) than a royal, which also makes him more relatable.

It’s hard to imagine that he just randomly pulled the look from his wardrobe, given the strategic way his wife, for one, has clearly considered the couple’s image-making and its effects since their relationship began. Rather, for this purpose, Harry is clad in the supersuit of courtroom attire. Up, up and away with the phone hacking, the abuse of power, the irresponsibility. He’s an avenger of a different kind, and this is his endgame.

[From The New York Times]

I appreciate this, and it’s interesting that she got Dior to go on record about how these don’t look like their suits. I would imagine that the suits are probably from an American designer – she’s right that these don’t look like the Savile Row suits Harry’s father prefers. What’s also great is that Harry wears the f–k out of clothes. Even when he wore cheap sh-t, he still looked good, maybe like a rumpled bad boy with fluffy hair. Look at him now that he has the money and time to put together a modern civilian uniform.

Photos courtesy of Avalon Red, Backgrid.