Kim Tae-ri Makes Her Leather Jacket Look Like a Masterclass in Texture and Restraint

Kim Tae-ri has the kind of filmography that makes journalists reach for words like 'chameleonic' and 'transformative.' She's disappeared into The Handmaiden's intricate betrayals, commanded the colonial streets in Mr. Sunshine, and lately been racking up credits in prestige projects like Twenty Five Twenty-One and Abyss. Off-camera, though, she brings that same refusal-to-choose energy to getting dressed. She can pivot from textured and moody to sporty and zen in the same week, and somehow both feel completely authentic.

Her first outfit is pure cinema waiting to happen. Picture a sunlit park—real greenery, real shadows—where Kim Tae-ri appears in black cropped sleeveless top tucked into high-waisted, wide-leg pinstriped trousers. Over it, she throws a brown vintage leather jacket—not supple and perfect, but worn just enough to have soul. The jacket alone does the heavy lifting here, as brown leather over black creates this unexpected richness. Then the Prada bag: supple leather with delicate eyelet-strap details that catch the light. She either sets it casually on the grass or swings it from one shoulder, and in both cases it reads as so effortlessly hers that you forget Prada is a flex. Sunglasses pushed up into her hair, she looks less like she's getting ready for a magazine shoot and more like she just wandered into a film frame—because she's cool enough that the park around her becomes the supporting cast.

Same week, different woman: Kim Tae-ri's second look is all athleisure intention and physical confidence. She's wearing a brown sports bra-top paired with leggings that have a front slit detail—nothing flashy, just room to move. Her hair's pinned up in a casual clip, which immediately reads as 'I'm working out or about to, and I'm too focused to keep my hair down.' Over the shoulders: an oversized black zip hoodie that she wears like a friend's jacket on a lazy morning. White sneakers ground the whole thing in reality. There's no leather, no luxury hardware, no 'look-at-me' energy—just the clean geometry of someone who knows their body and doesn't need props to feel good. It's the opposite of her park moment, but equally devastating in its own way. Same person, two different ways of moving through the world.