What we talk about when we talk about "witch costumes"
A guest essay from Robyn Davis ✨
Robyn writes the style newsletter
and styles women in their existing clothes. You can connect with her on Diem at robyntdavies.But first, here’s what else people are talking about on Diem:
It’s a stylish-movie-watching time of the year, with witches being some of the most fashionable women on screen. Within the witch movie canon, several films have become so lauded for their characters’ sartorial choices that their plots are now mere footnotes to their celebrated aesthetics: Practical Magic (1998) for its easily-attainable cute tops and jeans, spaghetti strap dresses and floral separates; The Craft (1996) for its edgy, cool outfits; and my favorite, the editorial styles of the The Witches of Eastwick (1987). The costumes of this 80s film, starring Cher, Susan Sarandon, and Michelle Pfeiffer (!!), are so good that it’s easy to overlook the plot—but its underlying message reveals a questionable take on powerful women.
The Witches of Eastwick tells the tale of three women who discover they have magical powers after conjuring up their dream man, Darky (played by Jack Nicholson). Alexandra (Cher), Sukie (Pfeiffer), and Jane (Saradon) go from bored, single women to women basking in their newfound agency. We see this transformation through their clothes, most vividly in the costuming of Jane, who begins the film in the plainest of outfits, and then evolves into the most expressively dressed.
Jane is a recent divorceé who teaches music at the elementary school and plays cello in the local quartet. Unable to bear children, she oscillates between dressing like one, and dressing like a woman much older than her years. When we first meet her, Jane is wearing a striped jumper over a white cotton blouse with billowy sleeves, Ked-like sneakers, and white ankle socks. She appears harmless, demure, a woman to be cared for—which her creep of a boss implies he’ll do, while groping her in the classroom. Later, Jane wears another iteration of this jumper-blouse combo, a suspendered skirt made of itchy-looking fabric that reminds me of something a spinster out of Central Casting would wear, layered over a long-sleeved top. In both scenes, her copper red hair is slicked back, neatly tucked into a French braid. There is a certain rigidness to her appearance and personality. Jane tries with her music teaching and cello playing to release it, but she’s unable to do so until she meets Daryl. It’s through her encounter with him that she has a sexual awakening of sorts, as do her friends Alexandra and Sukie, and away the jumpers go.
In their place are flirty, revealing looks. An enviable strapless polka dot bathing suit with the sauciest idea of a skirt, paired with a white visor. Jane keeps the white sneakers and socks, but now with her arms and legs on display, they read coquettish. And then that hair! That hair of hers! Gone is the reserved braid. Her copper curls become an additional character, a mess of imperfectly perfect frizz that just screams sex.
As Jane and her friends’ relationship with Daryl grows, she brings her newly unleashed energy to the classroom, instructing her students to toss their sheet music while she kicks off her shoes and twirls around the room in a fitted crop top and a black flared tulle skirt with layers of fabric and red polka dots. There is so much joy, so much freedom in her movement. Consequently, in embracing what could be construed as “feminine chaos,” her students play the best they’ve ever played before. Jane also scares off her handsy boss, sending him into a frenzy while he spies on her in the classroom. One look through at her through the window, and he’s running down the hallway away from what he’s just seen.
The script installs consequences for Jane’s behavior, which she encounters while wearing a killer outfit to the grocery store. Picture this: a slinky sleeveless knit that oozes over Sarandon’s lithe body, cradling her perfectly drooped breasts, and dainty little white socks at her ankles beneath the peep-toe pumps on her feet. Jane’s hair is absolutely bonkers, just one big delicious mess of I-wish-I-could-have-that curls. This moment is pure cinematic delight, watching Sarandon galavant around on screen. Jane parades through the store, picking up items as she goes, relishing in her gestures and the act of just being. Munching on a pickle, musing aloud to no one in particular, but aware that she’s got a crowd.
Jane’s onlookers are the other women in town, women who are primly dressed with pearls and neatly-pressed collars—women who are appalled by her actions, because she so openly revels in her pleasure. They murmur about her lack of bra, calling her a slut, which she initially brushes off…until she catches sight of the local newspaper and a headline that hints at the nature of her and her friends’ relationship with Daryl. Seeing the story in print, the joy she just experienced is zapped, and shame fills its place. Jane is an Icarus, brought back to the realities of being a bold woman living in a small town. She drops her shopping and runs out of the store.
At this point in the film,, Alexandra and Sukie suggest to Jane that they pause their dalliance with Daryl. There’s too much heat, too many people are talking, they should stop now, at least until things quiet down—which Jane refuses. It’s only after someone is killed that Jane acquiesces, wearing a schlubby ensemble of sweats and a tank. Her style has retracted in response. The vibrant outfits are no more.
The film ends with Jane, Alexandra, and Sukie banding together to banish Daryl from their lives to live happily ever after, just the three of them. Well, plus Alexandra’s and Sukie’s children, and the three little boys each of them have by Daryl. Jane is finally able to have the baby she wants, and the friends collectively raise their brood in what looks like a pretty magical mansion. They’re happy, but it’s a twist that leaves me wondering: what the heck did I just watch?
Can I leave Witches Of Eastwick as-is, a delicious visual buffet? Or is it actually more of a sinister take on women and power, covered up by pretty clothes? Maybe I’ll need to find another witchy movie that satisfies my desire for sartorial delights, alongside empowered storylines.
ICYMI
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