‘Do you prefer “fashion victim” or “ensemble-y challenged”?’ Josie Sampson, creator of Film Reel Fashion examines the legacy of Mona May’s costume design for Clueless (1995, directed by Amy Heckerling).

When Clueless arrived onto screens in the mid-1990s, it ensured Alicia Silverstone’s Cher Horowitz became an overnight sensation. Teenage girls identified with Cher’s heartbreak and social worries, simultaneously envying her revolving wardrobe and online outfit chooser. Loosely based on the plot of Jane Austen’s Emma, this is a High School film at its finest. Set in sunny Beverly Hills with a free rein of Daddy’s credit card, the fashion is of utmost importance and communal acceptance. These are girls on the precipice of adulthood, their levels of sophistication undeveloped and gaudy. Inwardly, they are desperate to be taken seriously and their garishly matched designer uniforms are their outward attempts at this.

Cher is the most popular girl in school, surrounding herself with the social elite in one of the most affluent cities in the world. Her style is ‘rich girl prep’ and her signature patterned mini-skirts, knee high socks and patent miniature backpacks became emulated by girls the world over. The look is all about tasteless colour and texture, with Crayola brights adorning the pleats and pinstripe patterns. When more is more, accessories are bountiful; the tackier the better. The girls are drowning in faux-fur handbags, feather-trimmed coats and velvet headbands, with Cher’s best friend Dionne (Stacey Dash) exhibiting a penchant for flamboyant hats.

The first time we meet Cher, she is decisively picking out her outfit for another day of school. Settling on a mustard yellow checked jacket complete with matching pleated skirt and white knee high socks, she exemplifies the student body’s tasteless attempts at sophistication. We are next introduced to Dionne who is wearing a carbon copy of Cher’s outfit, albeit in an eye wateringly clashing palette of red, white and black. Instead of being horrified at the ultimate fashion faux pas of wearing the same ensemble, the girls are smugly delighted to be as equally stylish as one another. After all, this is a place where berets appear to be not only socially acceptable, but actually fashion forward.

In Cher’s world, appearance is the defining factor on which your successes in life depend. She is a lover of style over substance, often misusing or mispronouncing cultural references in an attempt to appear worldly. Indeed her later love interest, Josh, sarcastically remarks that her only direction in life is “towards the mall”. On the morning of her driving test, instead of practicing procedures or revising vital knowledge, Cher is seen tearing the house upside down in search of a particular crisp white collared Fred Seagul shirt, considering it to be her “most responsible looking ensemble”. She believes that by presenting herself in an immaculate and well put together outfit, she will project an image of herself as someone deserving of a driving licence, disregarding the need for any actual skills.

Similarly, when faced with the prospect of the first evening date with her object of desire Christian (Justin Walker), Cher is completely engrossed in the potential aesthetics. Outfit choices, lighting concepts and makeup are all carefully designed to showcase her to her very best. Any prospective personality or conversational factors do not enter her dating periphery. She settles on a vampish red dress, traditionally the colour of love and lust. In contrast, its skater style flair and Cher’s sweetly pinned backed hair are young and childlike, suggesting again the idea of an adolescent girl desperately trying to break into the adult world. It is interesting to note here her use of the phrase “costume decisions” when deciding on which outfit to wear. Akin to a little girl playing “dress up” in her mother’s clothes, the phrase emphasises the way that Cher sees her life status as a role she chooses to play, her clothes acting as the appropriate costume.

The sense that Cher is hovering on the fringes between socially-aware teen and beautiful young adult is showcased no better than the moment she descends down a staircase clad in a simple Calvin Klein slip dress. Its white colour connotes purity and virginal innocence, juxtaposing against its tight fit that displays her unmistakably womanly body. It is an obvious departure from the garish plaids and double denim we have become accustomed to seeing on Cher by this point and it is here that future love interest Josh (Paul Rudd) sees her as an object of adult lust for the first time. The dress represents such an iconic moment in the film that Calvin Klein re-released a run of the exact style and cut in 2010 to honour the fifteenth anniversary of the film’s release. This act demonstrates the full extent with which Clueless impacted on real fashion trends; girls wanting to emulate that little bit of Beverley Hills chic, even fifteen years later.

The name checking of designers such as Calvin Klein adds further to the fantasy element of Cher’s privileged life. In one memorable scene, she pleads with a mugger not to force her to the ground in her expensive Azzedine Alaïa dress. Begging that “It’s an Alaïa”, the mugger is momentarily dumfounded, responding, “An A-what-a?”. She reasons that “it’s, like, a totally important designer” and worthy of risking her life for. Previously, this was a name unfamiliar to the standard teenage population, making it instantly desirable in its unobtainability. With this, Clueless ushered in a generation of designer name lovers.

When new girl Tai, a then relatively unknown Brittany Murphy, arrives on the scene she is quickly shunned for her Nirvana-grunge appearance, despite being probably the most realistic portrayal of how teens dressed at the time of the film’s release. The camera lingers, mimicking the disapproving stares her new fellow classmates are throwing her way. She is clad in an oversized flannel shirt and baggy corduroy trousers, with a huge bag filled with school books slung on her back. Her comfortably flat shoes are almost hidden from view. This is in instant contrast with Cher’s statement Mary-Jane heels, which often enjoy a starring shot all of their own. The contrast is so extreme that it is Tai who looks wrong and costumed, while the other clownishly dressed students around her are the ones that appear acceptable. Indeed, one of her fellow students cruelly remarks that “she could be a farmer in those clothes”.

It is up to Cher and Dionne to transform Tai, basking haughtily in their sense of self worth. The process begins with a shot of Tai’s red hair dye being washed down the plughole. Perhaps alluding to the first arrival of the menstrual cycle, the shot signifies that, like Cher and the others, she is now embarking on her road to becoming a woman by learning how to dress. Tai emerges from the makeover another Beverly Hills clone and spends the rest of the film clad in preppy shift dresses and oxford collars.

Interestingly, as the film reaches its climax and Cher and co. realise their superficial wrongdoings, Tai loosens her Clueless makeover and somewhat reverts to her true self, albeit retaining some of Cher’s unmistakeable fashion sense. This is comparable to real life girls whose style is often unconsciously influenced by their friendships, an idea that makes Tai and Cher more humanly accessible right at the point of their self discovery.

The west coast preppy flair delves us into a world of pure fantasy, far removed from the grunge style of its 1995 release. As a result, Clueless provided a fashion revelation, with girls everywhere longing to shop on Rodeo Drive. In the words of Cher, they would strive for “courageous fashion efforts” and work to makeover their wardrobes. Hopefully, like Cher, they were also inspired to makeover their souls in the process.

By Josie Sampson. Do visit her blog Film Reel Fashion.

© 2012, Contributor.

Related posts:

1. Clueless: Calvin Klein White Dress Makes Comeback
2. Quadrophenia: Mod Girl Wearing Stockings

American Gigolo (1980, directed by Paul Schrader) is a vapid expression of style without substance that has somehow become an academic’s favourite. Yet to argue the emptiness of the film and its bland protagonist as subtext is to miss the big picture: American Gigolo is not even about its protagonist; it is about what he wears. American Gigolo is about Armani.

It was Italian designers who led a revolution in tailoring during the early 1980s, reinventing the male suit by removing hitherto essential padding for a lightweight, almost floppy silhouette. Combined with unusual fabric choices and bold colours, they defined the decade. Giorgio Armani was at the forefront of this revolution, certainly in terms of bringing it to the masses. Moreover, his clothes were just as popular with both sexes, the GA logo coming to symbolise luxurious excess disguised as simple class.

Armani trained with Nino Cerruti before becoming established under his own name in the late 1970s. Originally his garments were designed to accentuate men of a muscular build, but following French couturier Daniel Hechter’s lead in the mid-seventies, he changed direction. In 1980 Armani introduced long zoot style jackets and heavy trouser pleating, with oversized blousons and mannish tailoring for women.

These components that now characterise the Armani name as relaxed, classic Italian, were showcased in American Gigolo, representing perhaps the most successful brand promotion on film of all time. A suggestion not lost on the designer himself, as rumour has it Richard Gere can still walk into any Armani store and select whatever he wants off the rack for free; he did that much to sell the product.

Although costumed as a whole by Bernadene C. Mann, American Gigolo is all about Armani. In two hours it parades every single line across the screen: formal, semi-formal, casual, daytime, evening, leisurewear, underwear, accessories. The pretext is how these sartorial choices define Gere’s high class prostitute Julian, though really we are watching how his clothes define the Armani name; literally brand creation on film.

While Julian does have a backstory only hinted at during the movie, he is not as appealing as the clothes he wears. This is a perfect fit for Giorgio Armani, who clearly does not want his garments encapsulated by a whore, even if he is an expensive one. It is Richard Gere we recall before his character, and that was what Armani was tapping into. Dress like the star, not the character.

Julian is a narcissist; he enjoys his own appearance and, put simply, is attracted to himself. This leads to an obvious interpretation – that Julian is gay. This may or may not be true; certainly he has undertaken homosexual ‘tricks’ in the past. However this is ultimately irrelevant. It does not matter ‘what’ Julian is, it only matters how he is perceived. With American Gigolo, Armani was not selling a lifestyle choice; he was selling a look.

Julian’s narcissism is exemplified at its fullest as he strolls down L.A.’s designer aisle, laid-back in sports jacket, open neck shirt and jeans. He wants people to notice him just so he can ignore them. Note the way he derides Detective Sunday’s (Hector Elizondo) outmoded street attire then implies that it is not so much his clothes but his face that makes him unattractive. Julian likes to belittle through appearance because it is the only asset he has.

Yet, despite Julian’s questionable personality we still love his clothes. Perhaps implying that a man is not what he wears after all? Or perhaps we do not care about Julian’s disposition and just love Gere for wearing that wardrobe so well?

At risk of appearing hypercritical, there is little point in analysing Julian’s sartorial choices too deeply. Above all else the meaning of these costumes is style not character. It is more worthwhile to appreciate them for fashion’s sake. With this in mind, here is a selection of the most significant outfits Richard Gere wears in the movie and what it meant to the future of fashion that Armani* very shrewdly chose them:

Sports Jacket

As worn for Julian’s first meeting with high profile but lonely housewife Michelle (Lauren Hutton), whose clothes are made by Basile, although still similar to Armani in contruction. Julian’s single breasted, golden brown wool cashmere jacket is long in the skirt, ventless, with high notched lapels and prominently shaped shoulders. The silhouette is a combination of 1930s ‘New Deal’ muscular torso and 1940s zoot suit.

Later when Michelle arrives unexpectedly at Julian’s apartment, he wears a double breasted light grey flannel jacket with sporting-like yoke detail. Here the shoulders look even more defined; his hand on hip gesture causing the angular box shaping to jut out even further.

Interesting, in reference to the brown jacket, Julian wears his as a less austere alternative to the plain black chauffeur suit; interesting because throughout the 1990s, Armani was largely recognised for his plain black unadorned suit above all else.

Sunglasses

These are based on 1950s-era Ray Ban Wayfarer style, only with far larger frames and in a lighter tortoiseshell finish. Still coveted, but undoubtedly look better on Richard Gere than practically anyone else in history, onscreen or off.

Designer eyewear really hit its stride in the eighties, with movies such as American Gigolo and Tom Cruise’s breakthrough Risky Business (1985) selling the attitude that built the decade: conspicuous consumption was nothing to be ashamed of.

Linen Jacket

Cool in natural Italian linen, Julian meets ex-pimp Leon (Bill Duke) to report back from his ‘rough trick’. There is a sultry quality to linen that is instantly relaxing to the eye. Before Armani dressed Richard Gere in this unstructured, half-lined, rather longer than typical ventless version with grey shirt and pleated grey trousers, linen was hardly used for suiting in couture, with lightweight tropical wool normally chosen instead. From humble beginnings as a shirt fabric before the mid-19th century, linen is now regarded as something of a luxury, a concept that Armani’s American Gigolo typifies – owning a look for every occasion.

Being as it crumples so easily, especially the softer Italian yarn, few choose to wear linen on a regular basis. Some consider the creases to be a handsome characteristic of the fabric, others an ugly side-effect. A consumerist, conspicuous man such as Julian would probably view the fabric as demonstrable means. This is the Armani extravagance. Having an Italian linen suit in your rotation proves that you can afford it.

Cardigan, Shirt and Tie

A pale blue turndown colour shirt with the decade’s soon to be crucial short collar points, skinny patterned tie and ribbed shawl neck cardigan, worn with high waist linen mix trousers and leather Chelsea boots by Roots. At this point in the story, Julian’s life is beginning to deconstruct. Picked from a line-up in a murder investigation he rushes to the home of a wealthy, married client in an attempt to prove his alibi.

The inference here is that Julian’s attire reflects emotional changes within himself. He is getting sloppy, less ordered, irrational even. Yet from a historical perspective his outfit is still deemed ‘proper’, the shirt and tie a direct signifier of someone who is controlled in their dressing.

In fashion terms the eighties were about colour and texture. This is a good example of how the latter, a thick fisherman’s rib, has evolved from sportswear to fashion wear. Armani was an innovator in this respect too. Not only did he change the way we wore suits – for a full decade at least – he also evolved the traditional rules of formal/non-formal. Julian’s cardigan, shirt and tie are reminiscent of Albert Finney’s attire from Two For The Road (1967), and more recently a similar look was seen on Daniel Craig in Quantum of Solace (2008) and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011).

Tuxedo or Dinner Suit

Depending on where you reside, either in North America or the rest of the world, the tuxedo or dinner suit has been prescribed formal attire for over 150 years. It has changed little in this time, only in the gradual reduction of tail coat to frock coat to lounge jacket. Correct dress is presently the same as it was in 1980: white poplin shirt, wing collar or turndown, in plain front or pleated; black bow tie and black suit, single or double breasted with silk faced lapels or shawl collar. Wearing a tail coat in all but the most ceremonial of occasions died out after World War II.

Keen as ever to stamp his identity onto an ensemble, Giorgio Armani added a less common waistcoat to Julian’s dinner suit to fit under his single breasted jacket, that featured peaked lapels and a distinctive hand fastened black bow tie in crushed velvet. Although, in actual fact this is the one time Julian unavoidably becomes part of the crowd. He is used to being the centre of attention, yet there was only so much Armani could play with in Gere’s costume and still call it formal attire, which for this very public segment of the narrative it needed to be.

Sports Jacket and Jeans

This is a look that only existed from the 1980s onwards. Again shifting sartorial boundaries, in this instance between semi-formal and casual, Julian’s wool jacket nonchalantly slung over his shoulder and fitted, slightly retro pressed jeans; open neck shirt with sleeves rolled up and tortoiseshell sunglasses, is a classic crossover of Italian class and American prep.

Denim entered fashion mainstream during the 1970s. After a fifties rebellion of U.S. teenagers donning thick selvedge turn-ups and capri pants to upset mum and dad, now mum and dad owned a pair for themselves. Calvin Klein introduced the so-called designer jean in 1977, closely followed by Gloria Vanderbilt’s clever ‘swan’ branding exclusively for women a couple of years later. Armani was not at the forefront of this particular revolution, though he was one of the first to mix and match fabrics in this way.

Julian is at his most fascinating wearing this ensemble. That arrogant strut denoting total awareness of his beauty. He is a walking, talking tailor’s dummy, yet exudes such unstoppable sexuality that even a beautiful woman will degrade herself into following him in a pathetic disguise and diving for cover every time he clocks her presence.

Black Suit

The black suit is indelibly linked with movies. It is hugely symbolic, though the colour itself alludes different ideas to different stories, characters and situations. Recently it has meant savoir (The Matrix, 1999) or mysterious (Men in Black, 1997) or cool (Reservoir Dogs, 1992). The last example is particularly universal; for whatever else the black suit says about a person, stripped of all sub-textual intention it still projects a single, indestructible value: it looks good.

A certain irony can be appreciated with the suit in question, that those around Julian elicit a less than favourable response, as Leon mocks, “You look like you’ve come from a funeral”. For women, black remained the primary shade for evening wear in the eighties, but for men texture and colour were paramount.

There is a further paradox, in that if Armani, i.e. all the brand has encapsulated during its 35 year history, was reduced to one item it would likely be a plain black suit. Yet Julian is openly mocked for wearing his heart on his sleeve. Evidently the black suit would have to wait another twelve years for its revival in film, and it was the aforementioned Reservoir Dogs, costumed by Betsy Heimann, that achieved it.

Underwear

In short, soft grey jersey, it is worth noting just how much these trunks resemble modern men’s underwear. Any high street clothing store will sell a pair similar to these nowadays. Influence does not always have to be dramatic, sometimes big changes come in small packages, so to speak.

Legacy

Ask most cinemagoers to name five movies with memorable contemporary clothes and American Gigolo is sure to appear on their list. There is no denying that the costumes achieved their goal of facilitating a protagonist whose sole existence depended on the control of his appearance.

Although it was Giorgio Armani who received the ultimate prize; with American Gigolo he created a narrative for fashion – his fashion. This film established the Armani brand, and not just for years to come, but forever.

* Not every item Julian wears is Armani. Look closely and you will see a few other eighties specific designer brands in his closet.

© 2012, Chris Laverty.

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1. The American: Sylish Costume Pics
2. LFF 2010 Film Review: The American

Right, sit comfortably with a cocktail (we encourage that here) because this is an excellent competition with an excellent prize: we have five copies of Liz Gregory’s new movie dressmaking book ‘Sew Iconic’ to give away to five lucky winners, just for answering an easy peasy question.

Sew Iconic is an innovative book that walks the reader through making their own copies of famous dresses from movies. Ten costumes are covered, including Marilyn Monroe’s halterneck from The Seven Year Itch (1959) by William Travilla, Jennifer Grey’s pink cocktail dress by Hilary Rosenfeld from Dirty Dancing (1987), Audrey Hepburn’s Givenchy LBD from Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961) and Keira Knightley’s cripplingly complex emerald green evening gown by Jacqueline Durran from Atonement (2007).

Nestled just over half way through Sew Iconic is the ice blue chiffon dress worn by Grace Kelly and designed by Edith Head for To Catch a Thief (1954). Get some practise in before tackling this one.

It is advisable that you at least know your way around a needle and thread before attempting any of these recreations, although Sew Iconic does include a pattern for each garment featured, in addition to full colour photographs, concisely written instructions – even video links to an accompanying Tumblr in some cases –also context notes and a mini-biography of the costume designer in question. Helpfully, the dresses are listed in rough order of difficulty. The toughest? Well, last in the book is Kate Winslet’s lace evening gown from Titanic (1997), as designed by Deborah Lynn Scott. You will need to bring your A game by this stage.

Sew Iconic by Liz Gregory is available right now on the shelves of all good book shops (i.e. Amazon and the like). But if you would like to win a free copy instead, all you have to do is answer this simple question:

It’s Saturday evening and you are having cocktails on the roof terrace of the world’s poshest hotel. Which outfit from the movies would you be wearing and why?

Most interesting, original and/or funny answers win a brand new copy of Sew Iconic. Email your answer to: SORRY, COMPETITION NOW CLOSED with your name, address and the subject heading ‘Sew Iconic!’ by FRIDAY 11TH MAY, 23.59 GMT. We will let the winners know as soon as possible.

Competition only available to readers in Europe and South Africa. Full terms and conditions HERE.

© 2012, Chris Laverty.

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1. Carice van Houten in Black Book: The Red Dress
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Joanna Johnston is a multi-award nominated costume designer with an excitingly eclectic filmography. From Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988), Back to the Future Part II (1989) and The Sixth Sense (1999) to About a Boy (2002) and Valkyrie (2008). Including most famously Saving Private Ryan (1998), she is now carving a niche in military dress and uniform. Although, considering the subtlety of all Ms. Johnston’s costume design – the cleverly unchanging ensemble worn by Bruce Willis in The Sixth Sense for example – this is only a small part of her work.

Clothes on Film called up Joanna Johnston for a chat about her most recently released project, War Horse (2011), her fifth with Steven Spielberg as director (six if you add Lincoln, due December). NB: typically with interviews of this type we would edit some of the conversation to keep it pertinent, but a good 75% of our discussion is retained here – really because it was so enlightening in regards to not only the costume designer’s role, but his/her thought processes too.

Clothes on Film, Chris: What attracted you to the project? Was it basically any opportunity to work with director Steven Spielberg again?

Joanna Johnston: Pretty much. I’d have to say, most of what Steven does, I’m interested in. Kathleen Kennedy (producer) went to London and took her daughters to see the stage show of War Horse. She then said to Steven “We should do this as a film. It is so up your street”. I think they got the rights, then Steven came to London and I was with him when he watched it. The story was utterly perfect for him, and I don’t think there was really any question for me.

I’d never done The First World War before. I have a picture of a great uncle of mine who had gone to the war aged about 18. He was a cavalry officer so similar to Captain Nichols (Tom Hiddleston). I had this photo with me all the way through the film; in fact, I sent it to Steven and it became quite symbolic. It was of my great uncle doing manoeuvres just before we went to war. His horse could have been Joey and he was all in uniform. The horse is coming forward to the camera and is looking absolutely beautiful, and he is turning back as if to say “What on earth is coming behind me?” He went to war and within 4 months he was dead, before his 19th birthday. He is buried in France. It’s a very poignant thing for me, so obviously my emotions were right in there at the beginning because I had this family history connection.

Benedict Cumberbatch as Major Jamie Stewart. Military uniforms for principals in War Horse were made at Costume Workshop in London.

CoF: So is it important to you that a project has an emotional pull?

JJ: Yes, there has to be something, and it can be quite random. It doesn’t even have to be something directly related, but there has to be something… like a key or a lucky talisman. When we did Saving Private Ryan I had the same connection again because my Dad went in on D Day, aged 19. These war pieces are the ones that get me most.

CoF: Have you carved out a niche for yourself for this type of film – the go-to costume designer for military epics?

JJ: Someone said that to me recently, that I’m kind of the military person. My dad would have LOVED that, because he was such a military person, and I come from a military lineage. But really with Saving Private Ryan I didn’t have a clue… I thought “Oh, uniforms, that’ll be easy”. I was stupid because it’s not easy! From the point of view of the audience, I don’t think uniforms get really recognised. But I feel a huge sense of responsibility to get it absolutely right, not only to honour the men who fought but to honour those who know. You don’t want to screw up on uniforms.

CoF: So you don’t feel the need to take any creative license with costumes?

JJ: No, not in these films. This is a serious subject matter. In certain films, I guess, but I’ve never done them, you could push it. But for me – no, I can’t. It’s in my DNA. Apparently the BBC get more complaints about costume faux-pas in uniforms than anything else. Costumes say subliminally what they’re meant to say. It’s like that piece you wrote about Sandy Powell on Hugo. I love that. I love her use of colour and the way she pushes that. That whole stylisation on the film was perfect. And for a lay-person, that is actually completely believable.

CoF: There’s a tremendous level of detail in War Horse, such as the German soldier helmets changing from spiked to the more traditional ‘Coal Scuttle’ style we are used to seeing. Does it ever frustrate you that most people will never notice that?

JJ: I’m just happy if four people in the world notice it. I do have to say as well, Chris, that I work with a remarkable man called David Crossman on all my military stuff. I’ll work with him on anything frankly, because he’s completely and utterly brilliant. He is a military encyclopaedia. On Private Ryan, he told me in a week or two weeks what would have taken me years to study. He can just say “These American troops at Omaha beach; they would be wearing this and this.” He did the same on War Horse. I couldn’t exist without him.

Albert Narracott (played by Jeremy Irvine) and his mother, Rose (Emily Watson). Costume designer Joanna Johnston was careful to ensure athletic actor Irvine did not appear too developed on screen - so befitting his character and situation.

CoF: I noticed on the British uniforms of the officers that they don’t all match, which they wouldn’t have done. Did this help you differentiate character, which must be very difficult when everyone looks so similar?

JJ: Yes. It’s tiny, tiny moves, but yes, there was a certain colour I wanted on Captain Nichols which was slightly softer, but Major Stewart (Benedict Cumberbatch) was a bit harder. It’s a mix and match that all adds up to something. My main thing was a slight softness on Nichols; there’s something poetic about him. I actually found this photograph that Tom Hiddleston absolutely adored. It was of an officer in France who’d obviously taken his terrier dog with him or adopted one. He was walking and leading his horse, and a little dog was standing on the back of his horse, and we so tried to persuade Steven to do this. We both felt, Tom and I, that this was so Nichols; this human touch that he was so kind and gentle and he loved all things, but Steven wasn’t having any of it. We did decide that we could have the dog in the little mess room. There’s that scene where Lt. Charlier Waverly (Patrick Kennedy) talks about his new hat with the silk lining. We got a dog but the room was so small that we never got to shoot the dog, he was on stand-by, and Tom and I were so sad. After all that, we never got the dog. I don’t know where it would have fitted-in… it probably would have been quite distracting!

CoF: Can you tell us briefly, for those that don’t know, how you begin your job in pre-production?

JJ: Research is my first thing. It’s usually pictorial research, but it could be fabric. I start to buy fabric and trims; even shapes can be an influence, and then pretty soon you’ve got to start designing and constructing. In the old days you probably had a lot longer lead-in, but now you’ve got to get started pretty quick – you can’t have too much dilly-dallying. My longest point of research on War Horse was in the Imperial War Museum. It was photographic research; I spent three solid days in there, and I didn’t even complete all my lists. One of my assistants had to pick up the slack. The war museum is in London but they have a huge collection of items in Duxford, so I went to just look and feel. It’s very evocative.

I got very obsessed with the officers’ boots; they were so beautiful. We made all of the boots. Luckily all of our officers had lovely long slim legs with narrow calves so they looked really good. All of the boots were made in London. When they’re made, they look quite crude but were finished later. The miraculous Steve Gell does all my dyeing and printing. He breaks them down, to look like the most divine chestnut or toffee leathers. They’re heavily polished to make them look as if they’ve been going for a while; he knows how to go through the process of ageing. Some of his stuff is printed; we did quite a complicated process on a waistcoat that was velvet to make it look like it was many years old. It’s finished, then broken down by him, and you can hardly tell it from a genuine vintage piece.

Military tunics from War Horse on display at the National Army Museum. Photograph by James McCauley.

CoF: How does the breaking down process work?

JJ: Well, the big stuff, like the uniforms, are very time consuming. You get the cloth, Steve (Gell) dyes the cloth, then that all goes to get made into uniforms. The whole thing is massaged all the way through, then it comes back to us. And then it depends on the weight and where it is in the story. At the beginning it could look pretty good, but by the time you get to the trenches, everything is pretty hammered. There is a lot of work that goes into making it look like that. With civillians’ clothes it’s piece by piece. I’ll say to Steve something like “I want it to look like he’s had it for ten years, or something like that, and this is what he has been doing with it. These are the stress points, and he may have had some stains from this or that”. There are specific things, like the grandfather’s (Niels Arestrup) clothes have stains from fruit. With every single item you need to think “What would that have been through?” to get it to look like what we see on screen.

CoF: I understand all the extras and secondary characters – their costumes were made in Poland?

JJ: Yes, they were made by Hero in Poland. I’ve just worked with them again actually for The Civil War because we’ve just done Lincoln (Steven Spielberg’s upcoming biopic of Abraham Lincoln). They’re brilliant. They do exactly what we want, to our requirements, in a remarkable speed of time. For instance, when we were in Berlin – did you see the film Valkyrie with Tom Cruise? I worked on that film. One of the guys from Poland, he was a catering guy on the train that went into Berlin. We had costumes that came in on a catering truck every day. We were going for a secondary principal, like “We need this costume done in three days. Here are the measurements, here is the cloth and here are the insignias”. They would make it and just send it back on the train.

The principals’ for War Horse we made at Costume Workshop in London. Of course, we had to have repetitions for all of them because things happen.

Close up detailing of tunic. Note the regimental buttons. Photograph by James McCauley.

CoF: How did the actors respond to wearing these costumes, especially Albert Narracott (Jeremy Irvine) wearing those very high waisted trousers?

JJ: The thing about Jeremy is we had to keep him looking youthful. And so, like you said, it was workwear. I notice you put in your review about ‘Old Town’. That was clever. With Jeremy it was about proportions. What’s interesting is when he first went into uniform I thought “Oh my God, he looks so young”. Uniforms play with your head. Him in uniform, it kind of breaks your heart. You can see the form of the body. He’s fit, Jeremy, and we had to counter-balance that so he didn’t look too developed. I love those workwear trousers but they’re not very comfortable. Jeremy was great. He’d never done anything like this before, so he just lay in our hands.

CoF: It was perhaps unusual that he wasn’t wearing a hat at the start of the story. Is that something you considered?

JJ: A cap, yeah. He did have a cap in one scene. I don’t know if you noticed. I was quite keen for him to have a hat. That was a Steven thing. Directors often don’t like hats; they feel they start taking over a bit. You don’t have the vulnerability of the face. In my original plotting, I would have had a hat in about half the scenes, but you know… it’s there. You’re right; if you look at period pictures of people his age, they would have had a hat.

CoF: Hats can become a bit symbolic if not everybody is wearing them.

JJ: No, you’re right. Hats, because they’re framing the face, they can make or break. A hat can become too invasive, but if it’s shadowing or haloing the head, it can look fantastic. But Steven works on the emotion in the face; he didn’t want anything to interfere with that. Another thing with a hat – practically, he can look a bit too ‘cool’. Jeremy is very good-looking. When he was in the cap, we did quite a few stills. He looked really great, and maybe that’s not the right thing. In the contemporary eye, it becomes a bit too considered.

Tom Hiddleston as Captain Nicholls. Quite deliberately, Nicholls’ overall colour palette is softer than Major Stewart's to reflect his gentler personality.

CoF: What was the costume budget of War Horse? Can you tell me that?

JJ: Nooooooo! I’m not going to tell you that!

CoF: I recently wrote an article about Winter’s Bone (2010), and although the costumes weren’t period, they only cost $5,500. Did you see that?

JJ: Who did the costumes for that?

CoF: Rebecca Hofherr.

JJ: Oh yes, I’ve heard of her. It was very nicely done. The thing is I literally can’t tell you. I can’t remember. I’ve been through two films since War Horse, and I can’t recall the division of labour between the actual costumes. It was under a million, that’s all I’ll say. Considering the amount of stuff we had to mount up for the budget we had, we were pretty pleased with how well we did. This was an incredibly hard film but the engine was very smooth. It was quite extraordinary actually; I think everyone enjoyed it. It was hard, but good hard!

CoF: Obviously, you are known for working on more period films. Would you like to try your hand at more contemporary pieces in the future?

JJ; I don’t take a film because of when the story is set. I take a film purely for the story and the director. They’re kind of equal actually – the story and the director. I mean, if I love the script, I don’t care. Something like The Sixth Sense I did, or About a Boy; that was lovely because you can still do really interesting work to tell the story of who the people are, and I won’t do a film just because it’s from an amazing period if it doesn’t push the right buttons in the story. Funnily enough, I used to say I wasn’t very interested in medieval or science fiction, and I’ve just done the Bryan Singer film, Jack the Giant Killer (due March, 2013). I hope you’ll interview me for that, because that was just brilliant; the total opposite to War Horse. We designed absolutely EVERY SINGLE THING in it. I don’t know what it will be like, we’ll see, but then going from that to Lincoln… I feel really lucky because I’ve had three amazing projects in a row.

With thanks to Joanna Johnston.

War Horse is released on Blu-ray and DVD on 7th May.strong

© 2012, Chris Laverty.

Related posts:

1. War Horse: Exclusive Interview with Kathleen Kennedy
2. The Young Victoria: Costume Designer Interview