Adorning Film: How Fashion is its Own Character in David Lynch’s Blue Velvet

Words Eloise Hallo

Though Lynch may have us think the finesse of 1986’s Blue Vel­vet sim­ply came togeth­er as if some neo-noir quark, its fash­ions – name­ly the devot­ed work of cos­tume design­er Patri­cia Nor­ris – prove evi­dence of the film’s mas­ter­ful and del­i­cate con­struc­tion. Lynch’s known pre­oc­cu­pa­tion with voyeurism feeds into this nar­ra­tive. Where, in his terms, ‘see­ing is such a pow­er­ful thing’, and, as he goes on, ‘we want to see secret things’, fash­ion in Blue Vel­vet func­tions as the mouth­piece to these secre­cies. Arche­types inter­est Lynch large­ly in how they can be under­mined, under-bel­lied, or exposed as unjust. Fash­ion, there­fore, must act as a dou­ble-work, occu­py­ing the com­plex plane of truth and fal­si­ty to all its char­ac­ters. In this, one is well-termed to deem the film’s fash­ion a char­ac­ter in its own right. 

One of the Lynchi­an oppo­si­tions Nor­ris must sat­is­fy through the film’s appar­el is that of its chiaroscuro, or, as Lynch posits as the film’s cri de ceour, light and its ‘vary­ing degrees of dark­ness’. This sys­tem is ably intro­duced by the first two of our four main char­ac­ters, Sandy and Jef­frey (aka Lau­ra Dern and Kyle MacLach­lan), illus­trat­ed by the mise-en-scene of Arlene’s din­er. Sandy, who will remain an enti­ty of light­ness for the film’s entire­ty, is jux­ta­posed with Jef­frey – seen above in khakis and black dress shirt – rep­re­sent­ing both its oppo­site and the inef­fa­bil­i­ty of its vary­ing degrees.

In this scene, as we are to learn of oth­ers, the con­flict between light and dark dress is rem­i­nis­cent of a character’s self-secu­ri­ty. The move, there­fore, of Jeffrey’s fash­ions into dark­er avenues, those avenues which will be lit­er­alised on his jour­ney along the plot, antic­i­pates his grow­ing iso­la­tion from the light­ness of both Sandy and the con­ven­tion­al and qui­et exis­tence of small-town Lum­ber­ton she encap­su­lates. Of this shad­owy plane, how­ev­er, it is with Dorothy, played by Isabel­la Rosselli­ni, that Jef­frey is alike; a fash­ion­ing we find to be true when the two first meet at her apartment. 

The dark­ness of Jeffrey’s boil­er-suit – an instru­ment of a naïve plan to gain access to her home – shows itself as cos­tume; a cos­tumed dark­ness no invi­o­lable match for the real dark­ness he will wit­ness behind her clos­et door, Blue Velvet’s famous enact­ment of the pri­mal scene. Like­wise, Dorothy’s half-hid­den entry dis­play pre­sup­pos­es the shad­ow which will fol­low her char­ac­ter­i­sa­tion. Where all is lit of Dorothy is donned in red, Nor­ris tells us the only know­able facet of her is her sex­u­al­i­ty. Notably, albeit the fault of oth­ers, which can be well-imag­ined as the rea­son for her guard­ed demeanour, in this scene and through­out the film. Jef­frey and Dorothy’s dance at the door is the first in their gala of pre­tence, both fore fronting a char­ac­ter they can­not sus­tain and hid­ing parts of them­selves which will be inevitably exposed; a tra­jec­to­ry we may guess if pay­ing close enough atten­tion to their respec­tive attire. 

Though it may seem that intrigue befalls the fash­ions of Dorothy and Jef­frey alone, Sandy, as Lum­ber­ton alike, bears the com­plex­i­ty of any­thing typ­i­cal­ly Rock­wellian in nature. Emerg­ing from the dark­ness into her first scene, Sandy wears the colour­ing and sil­hou­ette which will go on to char­ac­terise her styling; a note on the imper­me­abil­i­ty of her self-assured­ness, and one of the first tac­tics through which she and Dorothy are sep­a­rat­ed and com­pared. Sandy ful­fils the role of ‘The Girl Next Door’ and, as is typ­i­cal of female ren­der­ings, appear­ances – name­ly fash­ion – will be the main per­pet­u­a­tor of this arche­type through­out the film. As such, Sandy’s emer­gence in this scene por­trays her as some­thing dis­tinct­ly light and dis­tinct­ly oppo­site to Dorothy – ‘The Lore­lai’ who’s equiv­a­lent scene shows her to be the thing of dark­ness itself – back­lit by the grace­less set­ting of The Slow Club, and helped, of course, by a plung­ing neck­line and sul­try red lip.

Things become most inter­est­ing, how­ev­er, in the acts fol­low­ing the par­ty Sandy and Jef­frey attend togeth­er. In a rever­sal of the con­ven­tion laid out for her, Sandy now and new­ly bor­rows the exposed décol­letage we have begun to asso­ciate with Dorothy; the repli­ca­tion is a sub­tle allu­sion to the threat Dorothy pos­es to her rela­tion­ship with Jef­frey. Bet­ter, or worse, still, Dorothy will meet them in the street, naked, in a bub­bling over of the social deco­rum which has made tense the rela­tions of the tri­ad since the film’s begin­ning. This scene, how­ev­er, where fash­ion is con­cerned, stakes clear­ly Lynch and Nor­ris’ joint and suc­cess­ful pur­suit inlib­er­at­ing both women of the arche­types pre­scribed for them. Sandy’s choice to imi­tate anoth­er in her par­ty dress ques­tions her self-assured­ness and reminds us she’s fault­ed by inse­cu­ri­ty just as we are. Sim­i­lar­ly, Dorothy’s more dra­mat­ic rejec­tion of dress alto­geth­er rids her of the sire­nous car­i­ca­ture which has been so reliant on it.

As such, both women are allowed to return to a por­tray­al they invite; Dorothy choos­ing moth­er – a posit she has been trag­i­cal­ly kept from for the film’s dura­tion. Sim­ply, and not alto­geth­er pop­u­lar­ly for the indus­try at the time, the adorn­ments of their char­ac­ters allow both women their unspo­ken light­ness and dark­ness of vary­ing degrees. In so doing, Blue Vel­vet proves itself to be one of the many great films where­by fash­ion is ani­mat­ed into a char­ac­ter entire­ly of its own.

Quotes cit­ed from Lynch : Lynch on Lynch. Chris Rod­ley. Ed. Chris Rod­ley. Faber and Faber, 1997, p. 145.

Stills accessed from Film Grab

Final Still accessed from IMDb