Recycled Costumes
Why you see the same clothes over and over again
There’s a secret society nestled within the subset of people who identify as cinefiles. Right now there are about 200 members. And you too can join their ranks, as soon as you’ve had the epiphany they’ve all had.
The way in is to watch two particular movies in a row. Perhaps you could start with The Madness of King George, paired with Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette. Or you could watch Gone with the Wind and then A Woman Rebels with Katherine Hepburn. Or you could watch the TV show The Tudors and then the 1998 movie Elizabeth with Cate Blanchette. And if you watch one of these very special combinations, look at what the characters are wearing. You might catch on to the secret.
“After you find one, They'll just start coming to you. They're everywhere. I just see them now,” says Katie, the editor and proprietor of RecycledMovieCostumes.com. Since 2009, Katie has been gathering, vetting, and researching costumes that appear over and over again in movies and TV. A pool of about 200 people consistently send them to her.
One post reveals that Madonna’s Iconic dress for her 1990 Grammy performance was originally worn by Glenn Close in Dangerous Liasons. A costume that was worn by Anne Baxter in the movie A Royal Scandal was overhauled and re-cut for the movie Dragonwick the very next year. One costume was reused as many as thirteen times. The examples are copious. “I have over 5,000 things that I haven’t posted yet,” Katie laughs. “I have enough contributions to last me the rest of my life.
Most costumes on screen, especially for the background actors, have been reused. This even applies to famous costumes, like Marilyn Monroe’s Subway Dress. That was re-worn in the film The Bachelor Flat. And even though this reuse is rampant, it is most notable in period movies. Or at least, those are the easiest to spot.
“There's not really any defining characteristics in what we wear today,” says Katie. “But if we're comparing what we wear today versus, like, the elaborate embroidered jackets of the Georgian period. What we wear today is pretty simplistic, right?”
Depending on the era, Katie can often guess where the costumes came from. Usually, it’s one of four big costume houses: Western Costume Company (in Los Angeles), Cos Prop and Angels (both in London), and Torelli (in Italy). But any number of these recycled costumes could come from the dozens and dozens of smaller costume houses strewn all over Hollywood. And when I say smaller, I mean comparatively, unfathomably large.
In a warehouse the size of an air hanger, clothing racks are triple-decker-stacked to the ceiling, nearly grazing fluorescent lighting, whose loud hum is only interrupted by the occasional rustle of someone diligently clinking through the veritable forest of clothing hangers.
I have snuck into this warehouse, so I cannot say specifically who it belongs to. But I will say that all the major networks – ABC, Universal, Warner Brothers, you name it- each have their own costume houses. “It’s their property and everything inside is their property, but if you’re an independent stylist you can also come in and rent for independent things, which is how I’ve used it,” says Rachel Kinnard, who teaches at ArtCenter College of Design and designs costumes for indie films and music videos.
It’s easy for Rachel to sneak me into this costume house because the “front desk” is just a person in a folding chair. The many gaping entrances of the warehouse open right to the parking lot. It all assumes that distinctly LA sense of privacy: if you know about this place, in the middle of this arid office park, you probably deserve to be here.
In the racks, I saw sections labeled “1990s club suits,” “1990s sports shirts,” “1970s jumpsuits.” “1970s car coats.” I didn't know what a car coat was until that moment. There are a surprising number of Evil Knievel jumpsuits. An entire row of leather jackets. Santa Claus has a whole section to himself. I see a row labeled Hippie LS tops.
“LS?”
“Long sleeves.”
Next to it was “hippie SS tops” Short sleeves.
“What’s TN?
“Tie neck, maybe?”
Rachel and I quickly catch on to this warehouse’s unique jargon (VN is V Neck), before encountering a section of skydiving outfits. I didn’t know skydiving had its own outfit.
If you already thought shopping sucked, try doing it in an environment this oppressive. “I get very thirsty in here,” says Rachel, chugging from a water bottle she brought. I didn’t know Rachel well enough to ask for a sip even though I badly want one. “It’s very abrasive.”
The warehouse is the opposite of clothing displayed for consumerism. There’s no music. No soft lighting. No pleasing displays. A bucket of shoes says “1970s heels.” Another massive bin says “Birkenstocks.” Even in the “Fancy Room,” full of Gucci and Chanel for the rich characters, the vibe is very much clearance-sale-at-the-church-basement-thrift-shop.
Rachel usually will spend one to three hours here, rolling a wheeled rack through the rows, pulling out vertigo-inducing ladders to get to the high racks (she does actually get Vertigo), and creating her selection for a project. She might send some pictures to the director to choose from. Maybe she will stop for lunch and come back. And then she might start the process all over again. A lot of times she’ll have to go around to a number of these behemoths, pulling from multiple collections. This means a big part of the job of costuming is simply remembering which clothes came from which costume house, before getting all the items dry cleaned and returning them. Damaged clothing gets a fine. Even though, in my unprofessional opinion, all the costumes all looked a little busted.
Given the state of all the garments I saw (heavily worn, often visibly stitched and repaired), I had assumed they would come at a steep discount. But it turns out it is not actually that much of a bargain. “You know, it might be like $20 to rent, but that's the price of buying it too.” The prices depend on the quality of the garment and how long you need it for. It turns out the real benefit of the costume house is, in fact, the sorry state of the clothes.
You want the clothes to look like they’ve had a life. The repairs and signs of wear are features, not bugs. Because these are not meant to be clothes that are pristine. These are clothes that tell a story. After all, real people in the real world don’t all dress the same. We don’t follow trends in lock step. Our clothes are quirky, anachronistic. Stained. Mended. Sometimes fished out of a discount bin. Sometimes thrifted, sometimes handed down. Through the costume sheds, It’s like every production is slowly contributing to the authenticity of the next one that will follow. A daisy chain of worn experience.
“This is my strength– that when I build costumes within a film, I really try to go with this imperfection because I think in general people are not so perfect,” says seasoned costume designer Ola Staszko. “It's not about the shirt and pants, but this combination of things.”
In the film Ida, by Pawel Pawlikowski, one character is carrying Ola’s grandma’s purse. Another wears some of Ola’s grandmother’s earrings. “So I travel around costume warehouses and look at things that are there and I collect them and I build a wardrobe within my own wardrobe,” says Ola. Bringing in her own clothes and her own sentimentality adds another dimension to the films. So much so, that the line between Ola’s clothing and her costume collection is blurring. “So very, very often I end up wearing leftovers from my film. Actually, I was laughing the other day because I was wearing Vanessa Kirby's shoes.”
Dressing characters is, in its own way, a form of acting. It’s about identifying the character and figuring out what makes them tick. For a period film, Ola will look through her extensive collections of old photo albums and books to find an image she can base a character on. “On the other hand, when working on contemporary film it's really fascinating for me to travel around and see people –like I would go on the subway and see, okay, this is like this character or this is that one. I look at people and I try to see a real person who could be a character.”
Costume design is not fashion design. It’s not about putting brand new clothes on perfect people who are supposed to be beautiful, blank canvases. In costuming, like in real-world dressing, the magic of the garment comes from a collaboration between the clothing and the wearer. In other words, attitude is a factor. The performance impacts the garment. You can tell an actor to move different, and the garment changes. “So you can put a very cheap suit on a man, but if he knows how to present it, it would look rich,” Stazcko laughs.
Perhaps that’s why we, the still-uninitiated, have remained unaware, unhaunted by repeated movie costumes for so long. Quite simply, a dress looks entirely different on different characters. Even if it’s been reused over and over again and chronicled every turn on RecycledMovieCostumes.com.
“Occasionally people tend to think that it's a critique on costume designers, and it's not,” insists Katie . “I think of it as a celebration of the amazing work that costume designers do.” Although when I asked Katie if her knowledge of recycled costumes and warehouses spoils the illusion of the movies, she gave a sly smile and answered diplomatically. “I mean. I love when there is a new movie with a costume I haven’t seen before.”
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Thank you for humoring me while I took a little break! I’m back! And if it’s ok with you, I’ve turned payments back on. Of course, donations are very helpful, but no worries if you’d prefer not to. I’m just honored that you’re along for the ride.
February is full of talks, if you’re in nyc and want to meet in person. It’d be a treat!
2/8 (tomorrow!) I’ll be talking with artist and documentarian Sayre Quevedo at Union Docs
2/21 I’m having a conversation at The Center for Architecture with curator Andi Soos about the intersection of fashion and buildings.
2/22 I’m talking with JRAT- one of my favorite designers- at Bungee Space at 7pm.
2/29 I’ll be hosting On Air Festival (featuring Laurie Anderson and Norah Jones!)
Another amazing Trufelman drop! Thank you for sneaking into these secret places and delivering the goods. Wish I was in NYC right about now!
This was absolutely fascinating!