Written by Nicole Štěch

Controversial director Adrian Lyne masterfully blends psychological tension with a seductive visual aesthetic, achieved not only through the actors’ performances but above all through the film’s meticulous atmosphere, costumes, and settings. The filmmakers created a world in which even an ordinary Manhattan apartment or a loft in the Meatpacking District feels like the backdrop to a crime scene – one that radiates unease, guilt, and an unnamed threat. The characters’ wardrobes are particularly striking, each standing in sharp contrast to the personality who wears it. Glenn Close’s Alex Forrest – at the time considered the most hated woman in America – dresses in a restrained yet distinctive style that gradually takes on a sinister edge as her seemingly innocent fascination turns into obsession. The 1980s were full of questionable fashion choices, but you won’t find them here. Alex Forrest’s power blazers and leather biker jackets elevate her into an unexpected fashion icon. Fatal Attraction may not be a fashion film on the surface, but its gripping visual journey is irresistibly stylish.

The costumes for the iconic 1985 Bond film were created by none other than costume designer Emma Porteous, who dressed the movie in a blend of classic Bond sophistication and sharpened 1980s extravagance. The film’s visual allure lies precisely in this collision: the traditional elegance of Roger Moore, framed by the architecture of Paris and San Francisco, is disrupted by the stylish – almost fashion-aggressive – explosion of ’80s aesthetics embodied by Grace Jones as May Day. It’s this contrast that turns the film into a fashion statement of its own, giving it an aesthetic that teeters between elegance and decadence. Naturally, the most compelling wardrobe belongs to May Day. She embraces power dressing, avant-garde silhouettes, and a nearly sculptural approach to form. One of the film’s most iconic fashion moments is the scene atop the Eiffel Tower, where May Day escapes Bond in a black asymmetrical ensemble. The costumes worn by her character were created in collaboration with Azzedine Alaïa, who is responsible for the leather bodysuits, hooded dresses, and other now-legendary looks that define the villainous May Day’s wardrobe.

Luc Besson’s cult classic is one of the most opulent visual experiences sci-fi has ever offered. Much of that splendor is owed to Jean-Paul Gaultier, who reportedly created around 1,000 costumes for both the main cast and the extras. Gaultier is said to have personally inspected even the extras’ outfits each day to ensure that every detail met his exacting standards. His timeless vision of futuristic costuming – blending latex, mesh, technical fabrics, and couture-level silhouettes – defined the entire aesthetic universe of the film. Thanks to him, we have Leeloo’s iconic bandage-strip ensemble. Interestingly, this now-legendary look was designed at the very last minute, inspired by the idea that Milla Jovovich’s resurrected character should resemble a scientific experiment – wearing as little fabric as possible while still remaining functional for filming. And who could forget the futuristic device that delivers her flawless makeup in a single instant? There are countless moments that have cemented The Fifth Element as an enduring aesthetic legend.

When Tom Ford steps behind the camera himself, you know you’re in for a visual ode on the silver screen. Single Man, which handles image and style with the same meticulous care Ford gives his fashion collections, is deliberate, considered, and painfully beautiful. The costumes, designed by Arianne Phillips, capture the elegance of the early 1960s while translating Ford’s aesthetic seamlessly into cinematic language. George Falconer’s perfectly tailored suits, worn by Colin Firth, the precisely knotted ties, the crisp white shirts, and the subtle textures all tell a story of order as a form of control. Visually iconic are especially the scenes in which the color saturation shifts – moments when George touches something beautiful or intense, and the world around him briefly warms and glows. Equally unforgettable is the scene with Charley, whom Julianne Moore turns into a demonically glamorous portrait of feminine melancholy. Don’t expect any profound plot from the film. Instead, prepare to savor its visual language above all else.

In his 1966 debut Who Are You, Polly Maggoo?, William Klein created one of the sharpest fashion satires ever made – and one of the most visually striking films of the 1960s. His intimate knowledge of the fashion world, honed through years of shooting for Vogue, gives the film an authenticity that makes its irony cut even deeper. The opening sequence, in which models walk in metal “dresses” made of sharp, bolted-on plates, is not only unforgettable but also deeply autobiographical: it directly references Paco Rabanne’s legendary collection from the same year, Twelve Dresses in Unwearable Materials. While Rabanne’s plastic discs linked with metal rings were radical for their time, Klein pushes the idea into absurd caricature – his models can barely move, yet fashion critics praise the looks with unwavering enthusiasm. One model even injures her hand on the razor-sharp metal dress, a moment that symbolically and literally exposes how absurd and dangerous the fashion world can be. This grotesque exaggeration perfectly captures an era when the very foundations of garment construction – needle and thread – were being questioned and fashion was plunging headlong into experimentation. Costume designer Janine Klein embraces this spirit fully. Today, the film feels just as fresh, a reminder that fashion can be ridiculous, perilous, and brilliant all at once. It remains a biting satire of the fashion industry, advertising, media, and the construction of identity – its language cynical, often grotesque, and all the more powerful for it.

In Mulholland Drive, David Lynch transforms fashion and costume design into a specific code through which he narrates identity, illusion, and the dark erosion of the Hollywood dream. Costume designers Amy Stofsky and Durinda Wood – whose work earned a nomination from the Costume Designers Guild – crafted an aesthetic that is as unsettling as it is hypnotic. Naomi Watts enters the film as Betty, dressed in pastel sweaters, delicate blouses, and sweet pink cardigans that evoke catalog innocence and an unwavering belief in the American dream. These sugary tones, however, serve as a deliberate contrast: as reality begins to crumble, the styling darkens, becoming vaguer, more mature, and increasingly blurred with nervous tension. The costumes cease to function merely as clothing and become a manifesto of disintegrating identity; what was once fresh and pure fractures alongside Betty’s own self-image. Lynch’s visual world is built on stark contrasts – light against shadow, glamour against gloom, dream against nightmare – and fashion articulates this conflict with the greatest precision. In Mulholland Drive, fashion does not flatter beauty; it reveals the truth the characters cannot speak.