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