When Meghan Markle stepped out in Los Angeles in October 2023 for a casual selfie with TV host Jen Su and Philadelphia socialites Madison and Melissa Leonard, she wore a striking striped shirt: relaxed, wide camel-colored lines on crisp white fabric, with a pair of sunglasses hanging casually from the lapel. The photo was breezy, candid, unplanned — and yet, as with much of Meghan’s fashion, instantly iconic.

Fast forward to July 2025. Catherine, Princess of Wales, is photographed in what appears to be the same shirt. Worn under a beige pinstripe blazer, styled almost identically with a wide collar and rolled sleeves, the look instantly drew praise from the British press for its “polished elegance” and “timeless professionalism.”

But for many, especially those who have tracked the media’s relentless double standards toward Meghan, the shirt didn’t read as fashion. It read as erasure.

This isn’t about clothes. It’s about narrative theft.

Meghan’s 2023 look came at a moment of reinvention — following the collapse of her Spotify deal, as she reemerged on the L.A. scene, attending Beyoncé concerts and preparing for a new Archewell summit. The striped shirt was effortless, Californian, and confident. It reflected a woman shaping her post-royal identity on her own terms.

Catherine’s re-use of the look nearly two years later — in an official, staged appearance — signals something else: an institutional strategy to absorb what Meghan created and repackage it as royal tradition.

And it’s not the first time.

Kate has consistently echoed Meghan’s aesthetic — center-parted waves, wide-leg trousers, off-shoulder dresses, minimal jewelry — all styles that Meghan was vilified for while a working royal. When Meghan pushed boundaries, she was branded difficult, American, inappropriate. When Kate copies the same choices? She is celebrated as modern, elegant, relatable.

It’s a phenomenon not unfamiliar to women of color: break the mold, be punished for it, and watch a safer, more “acceptable” figure later be praised for adopting your style.

When Meghan wore the striped shirt, tabloids mocked her for being “performative,” for “attention-seeking” even in casual encounters. When Kate wore it, there was no backlash — only glowing headlines.

The media reframing isn’t just personal. It’s institutional. Meghan was told to be “50% of herself” to fit into the monarchy. Now that she’s gone, her full self — her voice, style, and authenticity — is being dissected and selectively redeployed to refresh the image of a duchess who stayed behind.

This is textbook appropriation without attribution. And it’s strategic.

Kate’s striped shirt may seem harmless, even flattering. But worn in this context — two years after Meghan — it becomes symbolic. Meghan built a brand of modern, multicultural womanhood. Kate is now permitted to wear its outer shell, divorced from the criticism and divorced from the woman who originated it.

What we’re witnessing is not fashion overlap. It’s the monarchy, through Kate, laundering Meghan’s innovation through whiteness and seniority. It’s not a compliment. It’s a cover-up.

To the casual viewer, it may just be a shirt. But to those watching closely, it’s a signal — that Meghan’s influence is undeniable, but her name must be erased from the credit. Her style becomes royal — only once it no longer belongs to her.