How to Dress Like a Wicked Character
Weepy, fungal spirals, buttoned-up, horny froth, and more essential considerations.
Hello everyone! Thank you for your patience as I took the past week off (unannounced, whoops) to hang out with my favorite person (my sister!) in Portland, OR for the so-called “holiday.” I’m always scared Substack will, like, shadowban me if I write some vitriolic anti-American sentiment in a post, but—not a great country! Not proud of the state! So many amazing people here, though—we are all that the U.S. has going for it save for NYC and a few pretty vistas scattered about the states. Replace every third word in that sentence with an expletive and you’ll get a fairly accurate sentiment.
I guess we do have one more thing going for us, and that’s the fact that we have mess—
, yes, but also the Wicked press tour, which had me completely convinced that the musical I would have signed the rest of my life away to participate in from ages 8-11 (would sure have saved me a lot of student debt!) would be ceremoniously desecrated on the silver screen this November. Go read Mess for more on the mincing, affected, allegedly Ozempic-fueled endeavor (this is my official request for more Wicked eval, Emily), but stay here if you want to dress like a weepy fungus or an adulterous seashell! For what it’s worth, I really liked the movie, and I can’t stress enough how big a part of my life the show was during my childhood. I painted myself fully green to go see it at the Pantages two decades ago, I used to skulk around my neighborhood looking into the window of my childhood crush’s bedroom (yikes) singing “I’m Not That Girl” under my breath… I’m going to stop revealing my credentials before I implicate myself too fully on the internet.As you may have realized upon publication of my post on “How to Dress Like a Hadestown Character”, I have a sordid history that I typically don’t advertize… I went to an arts high school for musical theater. There, I ripped the Band-Aid off nice and clean. To be fair to myself, I had COMPLETELY checked out by tenth grade, as I (rightfully) realized that all the kids in my program were wretched (myself included), and spent nearly all my time with the writing majors (not to brag, but I had gotten into the writing program, but stuck with MT because of an idiotic sense of inertia! Ok that’s not much of a brag). Wicked was the show that set me upon that anticlimactic path, so it did get me a bit unexpectedly verklempt to see it at this scale. I still don’t think either of the main actresses were very technically “good,” and all the public clamor for Ariana’s “comedic chops” kind of makes me think I accidentally walked into an ultralong bonus episode of Victorious instead of the actual film or something, but I’m not here to wax on about my visceral hatred for Boq—I’m here for the fits!
Note: most of the pieces linked here are more expensive than typical Esque fare because I was looking more for inspiration than pieces to buy. If you need any help finding a specific type of item at a reasonable price point, DM me or respond to this email and I’ll see what I can do to help.
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There was something so much sexier about this original Broadway cast of Wicked than the cast of the new movie, and it sure wasn’t the fact that a lead’s name was Norbert Leo Butz (though this pic of the absolutely phenomenal Jonathan Bailey wearing an NLB t-shirt made me purely giddy).
The costumes in the OG show were weird—on one hand, more costume-y than the film’s, i.e. felt more like something you’d be able to find a serviceable replica of at Party City, with Glinda’s bubble dress ripped straight from the pages of a storybook and Elphaba’s dress smartly comprised of fraying scraps of multicolored fabrics to give the classic black frock dimension that read even under bright stage lights:
On the other hand, the clothes in the play were weirder than their filmic counterparts, and I think they were “off” in a good way. I liked how Elphaba’s school uniform was kind of stiff and dweeby (and, you guys, she had a SKULLCAP—you know how I feel about those, and if you don’t, search the word in the Esque archives):
Even more, I liked that Glinda’s wardrobe ranged in color and style, incorporating blues, yellows, and whites into outfits like napkin-hem sundresses and smart skirt suits:
I think the variance in color instead of a strict adherence to an all-pink, all the time rule made Glinda’s character feel expansive and, to put a fine point on it, less socially “limited” than Elphaba in a way that makes the “Defying Gravity” revelations of her true spiritual limits feel even more poignant.
Costume designer Paul Tazewell’s insistence on the pink/green+black dichotomy did feel a little reductive in the merch-friendly sense—easier to sell Glinda costumes if anything pink can be passed off as one. Elphaba’s Zeelool glasses also felt like a cheap marketing bid to me, but I guess they were successful in that now I’ll immediately assume anyone I see wearing them is not polyamorous, as I would have suspected before, but actually just unethically non-monogamous in the great tradition of grown-up theater kids everywhere. Anyway, what I did like in Tazewell’s conceptualization of the clothing of Oz was his nerdy fixations upon natural phenomena like fungi and spirals. I’m sure you’ve already read plenty about this surface-level info, but if you haven’t, the links in the photo captions above and below will take you to some pretty interesting, albeit shallow, articles on the subject. This video of Tazewell is even cooler.
Some people’s immediate thought when encountered with the micro-pleated black chiffon of Elphaba’s hero dress (layered over purple taffeta for a dimensional effect similar to though more subtle than the one I mentioned above in the OG dress) might be Issey Miyake’s Pleats Please, but I’m not like other guys, so I thought of Hodakova.
Though the brand’s materials often prioritize cheekiness over majesty:
The textures and whimsigoth sensibilities introduced by thickly layering quotidian design elements such as zippers and waistbands feel very Ozian in that they take something easy to overlook and repeat it at a fever pitch until it vibrates with a strange magic, as if some creepy new plant sprouted out of a pair of trousers left to seed—natural derived from unnatural.
Even when not utilizing this technique of fertile-feeling multiplicity, Hodakova creates textural genius, as in this dress that looks like a crumpled love note charred in a fireplace:
Textures aside, the brand’s facility with the color black is enough to make it the label I think Elphaba would want to wear most if she had a Substack:
But Hodakova is at its best when it’s making pants into non-pant clothing items (or some similarly clever turnabout:
If you don’t have the money, time, or energy to acquire or create a pantagown as seen above, the below dress might fill a hole for you:
The label is kind of dorky and ren-faire-y on the whole, but its Alchemist dresses are utterly gorgeous, come in different colors and lengths, and look as devastatingly comfortable as they are dramatic. The rent-open Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy neckline is the most important part of the look, of course.
The Hodakova loving was not to say that Miyake’s mushroomiest pieces wouldn’t be on Elphaba’s wish list as well:
I think the more standard Pleats Please garments with vertical creases are a bit too sleek for an Elphie look, but maybe that’s just my exhaustion with their oversaturation talking. For more colorful fungal looks, consider Iris Van Herpen or Rahul Mishra, but we’re sticking with black for this post’s purposes.
She’d be into McQueen, but not archival—current stuff, fairly basic, but somehow twisted:
Animalic stuff like hoof-leaning footwear (yeah, she’d probably like tabis, but I’m tired of them as of now and won’t be posting about them) would be up her alley:
While looking at Rodarte pieces on the Glinda side of things, I kept seeing dresses with a single florette (typically a removable pin) and thinking of this fuckass scene where the best G[a]linda could think to do for Elphie’s “makeover” was to gayly tuck a flower behind her ear. Danielle Goldberg found dead in a ditch!
I LOVE this insane shade of green, though Elphaba would never wear something so boldly self-referential (though she’d probably laugh wryly at the idea):
UUUUUUUUGH those glasses, but love the high neck, spiky leg-of-mutton sleeves, weird embossing/embroidery, pointy placket and big ol’ buttons. Fidan Novruzova is another Elphabic brand that does most of the above very well, though in typing this I realize there’s no way in hell Elphaba would wear a leather jacket—kind of problematic that she wears leather boots, though :/ it’s almost like she doesn’t really care about the animals :/ canceled!
Elphaba is absolutely a peplum lover as can be seen in her uniform (and the Fidan top in the below section below on Shiz garb):
This weirdo deconstructed collar felt almost vampiric to me, which would be a good choice for an irony-poisoned witch:
And as Tazewell makes clear, organic spirals were a huge influence on every design element in the film, so these horn (Dillamond mantion)/nautilus-like pseudo-epaulettes are so Elphie (I’m annoying myself by writing Elphie, but it feels even worse to keep writing “Elphaba” I don’t know guys this post is way too long):
Delcore has some “wickedly” overpriced but very Elphaba black dresses and tops with pointy, spiraling, and otherwise sculptural shoulders:
And I discovered the brand via this Instagram post which felt very on-theme with its crunchy, intricate folds:
Another brand with incredible black-and-green pieces is my special favorite Yoshiki Hishinuma, which as you know I love to mention whenever I can and felt absolutely in line with Elphie’s wardrobe—I wish she wore mossy, funky velvet:
Or weird, tree-bark-like, crackling rubberized fabric:
Almost done with Elphaba, I swear! She’d wear J.Kim, with its baroque, structural wool pieces:
Runic knits (I wish this were a tunic so I could’ve typed runic tunic):
Pieces based on pottery in PERFECT shades of green:
Craggly elasticized capris with random jolts of paisley (these call to me the most out of all of the J. Kim harvest, somehow):
And ingeniously shapely fleeces:
Finally, Elphaba would wear Kiko Kostadinov boots, and I am not even gonna elaborate on why, just take my word for it, or ask Paul Tazewell, coward:
Moving along to G[a]linda, stuck in the pink as she may be:
I saw the below dress and thought “wow, am I a genius or what? I found this dress that feels like it perfectly interprets Glinda’s bubble dress into a modern, albeit prom-y gown! It has the bubblegum shade and the spiral skirt! Styling visionary!” And then I looked at the name of the collection the dress is in (captioned below):
Brilliant.
Molly Goddard feels obvious as Glinda-bait with its rosy, ruched tulle gowns, but I actually think it’s not a super meaningful match-up—the Glinda dress shapes are more retro, specifically 30s-50s styles, than Molly’s contemporary froth (I once got in trouble for calling a MG dress “frothy” in a review, apparently the brand doesn’t like that descriptor. Ok, then stop making frothy dresses?). I’m actually obsessed with the above loopy peignoir/teddy set with rosette epaulettes, though I never wear stuff like this anymore—always makes me feel dysphoric. If it didn’t, I’d trawl Etsy:
Ok, here’s the lineup of my favorite Glinda-esque dresses.
SS08 Valentino’s spirals into rosettes looking like they’ve been dip-dyed, the spots left to fray out like pen ink in rubbing alcohol:
The whole collection is very Glinda-friendly.
Three Giambattista Valli numbers from SS19 and 20, the first looking kind of like a bad bangs trim:
Then a very Molly Goddard number:
And my favorite of the bunch, more in the peachy camp, though I kind of wish the neck was more of a halter:
I found this Marc Jacobs piece in the first physical Vogue I’ve owned in years (in an airport, of course):
It was, in fact, the Marc Jacobs-curated edition with Kaia Gerber on the cover and it turned me into a menace to read the myriad simpering profiles of how “nerdy” and “brave” rich people like Gerber, Anna Weyant, and this one random woman who got sober in her 30s but replaced drinking with a running addiction so bad it disturbed her husband (who pays all her bills) are. I had to go hide in the editorial shoots but along the way I got spooked by multiple Wicked cast ads—glad Michelle Yeoh got the Balenci-bag (looks like she cared about as much, if not a tad more, about this modeling gig as she did the film):
Anyway, the dress is from Marc Jacobs SS19—click on the link in the caption below for a multitude of Glinda-coded gowns and sets. This gilded pile of frills might be my favorite:
Its shiny frosting and almost fleshy pink feel like they live in the same world as Glinda’s dress in the 1939 film, with Lady G played by the incredible Billie Burke (I just love women named Billie):
Is it just me, or does the set above remind you of Wee Sing’s Big Rock Candy Mountain? If you never had your shit rocked by Little Bunny Foo Foo, I guess we have nothing to discuss and you’ll never know me in a way I find personally meaningful.
The floral mini above felt like what a Tyler Mcgillivary dress *should* be—I’m not really a fan of the brand’s reality, but I like what I believe its aspirations are. If I didn’t feel insane in feminine dresses, I’d even try this one out (and it feels like something the Broadway Glinda would’ve worn pre-pink-pilling. Hey, maybe Tazewell will whip out some different colors for Act II in a heavy-handed show of “progression”).
Dresses I do stand by in the floral realm are by Caroline Hú, the three fresh SS25 numbers below feeling like bokehfied, screensaver-ish pics of flowers stretched and warped on some kind of inter-dimensional Photoshop:
The cantilever swoops of the two dresses above remind me of Michelle Yeoh’s Madame Morrible’s hair, which is apparently inspired by the weather/clouds her character can control:
And I can’t find a photo, but the below dress:
Reminds me of the filmic equivalent to these monstrosities:
Pay attention to the big puffy guys dancing in a fountain in the Emerald City “One Short Day” scene—incredible costuming translation, from the above horrors of nature to outfits that made marginally more sense on real people and had a ton more movement and dimension, crumpling as the dancers jiggled in water like grapes in soup.
If Glinda were punk (there’s an unemployed former Carrie Diaries writer reading this who just saw dollar signs—as long as you hire me as consultant, I’ll let you pretend this was your idea!), she’d wear Viktor and Rolf and the rest of Oz would copy her perma-shrug neckline and end up looking like the rest of V+R SS22 (link in caption):
Of course, Glinda’s best contemporary brand match in the “real world” would be Rodarte. I want oversized epaulettes to become a thing because of this movie. I hate the bows on the below dress but love the rosettes and color:
For a more current look, G would wear some LoveShackFancyass underwear with a very Slutty Marian the Librarian at the Footbridge Halloween Costume dress:
Or, for something simple and straightforward, a ruched satin cami midi:
As I I mentioned far above, thirty years ago (this post will end sooner than later, I tell you!), I really liked how in the OG musical Glinda wore colors other than pink, especially this napkin-hem sundress that I’m assuming somehow tied into the two girls gayly advising the Wizard to make the Yellow Brick Road the color it so famously turned out to be. The below Rodarte gown feels perfect for a scene in which G can’t decide on what color to wear to a party, so she wears both and changes every five minutes a la Sleeping Beauty.
A buyable lace dress I always find myself thinking of when the topic comes up, as it so often does, is the Rosette NYC Salsa dress:
Of course I would be a fool to make a list of G[a]linda dresses without including a respectable dash of pink Dior by Galliano gowns:
And a modest YSL option (love a square neck):
For something more modern, maybe Aje:
And certainly this specific Gucci number. Yes, it’s overplayed and reminds me of Jared Leto. It’s still incredible:
And has what seems to be a pretty great knockoff option on Etsy:
To transition into the Shiz section of this post, have a look at G’s Elle Woods-era skirt suit:
I hate the color situation above—if you’re already going to break the dress code like an asshole (as both G and E did to… no one’s chagrin?), go full Bend and Snap with it:
The high neck above feels like the spiritual kin of the above Viktor and Rolf gown, plus a chartreuse dress in the Oz section below.
This is very Glinda and Elle have a half-witch-half-lawyer child:
And these two dresses bring back that 30s-50s vibe I mentioned above (they might, in fact, look most like G’s actual costumes out of anything in this segment):
Ok, only two-ish last things. I really loved that, for Shiz uniforms, the film took the chaotic stripe situation from the Broadway show:
And made the most notable detail the weird closures—layering and Oz-branded brass buttons:
The coral-and-teal color combo kind of stressed me out, I’m not gonna lie. Felt very Dark Millenial.
Anyway, here’s the Elphie peplum I mentioned, plus some really cool button abstractions:
Fidan Novruzova comes in clutch again:
As does Hodakova:
The jaunty neck detail of this dress feels very Ozian:
As does the deconstructed awkwardness of this shapely Hodakova jacket:
Buttons and leather used in a painterly fashion a la Hodakova were big for Shiz accessories:
These caspar the Label tops get it:
And HUGE: you can button them all wild and accordion-like like this—I wouldn’t have blinked an eye had you told me this was a Wicked costume:
More Hodakova (I’m really running out of steam you guys, this is why I’m not putting a paywall on this post—I know I’m awful at making things exclusive, but I lowkey live off of your subscriptions right now [and let’s just say that I am not LIVING LARGE], so if you have the means, I truly do do my best to make that paid sub worth it and I appreciate every single one of you who signs up!):
Finally, of course, the dynamically verdant costumes of the Emerald City. The only thing I could find for sale that perfectly scratched the itch was this gorgeous opera coat:
But then I looked at Mr. Goldblum’s fit here:
And I was like, oh, Gucci SS16. That’s it. And I stopped typing.
That was way too much in every sense of the phrase. Thank you for your dutiful scrolling, and I promise, no more musical theater until they make a Spring Awakening movie or something.
<3 ESK
So very obsessed with allllll of this! This is truly wonderful and must've taken so much time and effort!!! It's so appreciated! Wicked also ruled my life as a kid (and as a teen... and again now...) because theatre kids live on forever!! Spring Awakening musical movie we need you more than ever... throw Legally Blonde the musical in there too and I'm so sat (though a lot of Glinda outfits work just as well (if not better) for little miss Woods comma Elle... very agreed on the disappointment of them limiting Glinda's color palette!) This rocks per usual! Yay!
Oh, great and powerful Esk! How do you remember all those brands and seasons?? I've read and reread this post until I'm a desirous puddle of pink and green, positively drooling over so MANY of these. I think we have a wide overlap in our Venn Diagrams of taste, my friend!
Buttons, asymmetry, peplums, bold ruffles, YES to all of it! This is a massive post, and must have taken SO much time! Kudos to you, and hats off...I have to go read it again now...
Oh, and I have a gorgeous vintage chartreuse cape with black satin lining that you've inspired me to get out and wear next week to a fancy theatre event! I'll share pics eventually. Thank you, Esk!!