#83 Dress Code
08/05/22 14:29
I’ve got three shows on the go at the moment, and would like to ponder all of them from a very specific angle.
Anatomy of a Scandal, Russian Doll, and Gentleman Jack: what do they have in common, you may ask? Precious little, perhaps, but I find them fascinating on a very particular level. My obsession with the lead actresses has laser-focused on their clothes - I can’t stop thinking about what they’re all wearing. Clothes are so important, aren’t they? They maketh the man – or woman/Gentleman in this case. Never a very snappy dresser myself, I appreciate it in others. And the dressing, in these shows, is key.
Broadly speaking, I’m finding Russian Doll disappointing, Anatomy of a Scandal neutral, and Gentleman Jack a great joy. Russian Doll is frustrating because I enjoyed the first series so much, and find the second less satisfying – the trap isn’t nearly as neat; the web Nadia’s caught in is a loose, sloppy one, and I don’t really care how she gets out of it, or where the hell those missing gold coins are. But I have been particularly struck by the nattiness of her uniform throughout; that is, skin-tight, black-as-night jeans, black top and a kind of military coat, accessorized with gold jewellery and topped off with that glorious thatch of crazy red curls. I’ve seriously considered aping this look, including dyeing (and perming) my hair to match, but worried that I could only carry it off if I had a rasping New York accent as well. It’s crucial for a cool series like this to have a heightened, cartoonish presence as its lead, and she is absolutely nailing it, swaggering round Manhattan’s streets in whatever time zone she’s in, looking hot AF. Thumbs down for this series’ set-up but wild applause for the styling.
I didn’t have huge expectations of Anatomy of a Scandal, mainly using it as background noise while I doom-scroll of an evening. Having read some fairly brutal takedowns online, I don’t have much to add, proper-criticism-wise, but what I DO want to talk about are Sienna’s outfits, which were the things that caught my eye as I furiously trolled Jacob Rees-Mogg on Twitter. There’s something off about them. I mean, she looks sensational. Off-the-scale gorgeous, on that cusp-of-too-thin which means the folds of the material drape and flow beautifully as she whips through the halls of Westminster. But it’s not quite right. Like a loose thread that bugs you until you start unpicking it and the whole thing falls apart. Let’s go back…
In her first scene, Sienna (I can never remember her character’s name – Sarah? Sophie?) is at a party, wearing a creamy long-sleeved number, playing the loyal wife of a Conservative MP who – quelle surprise – turns out to be a naughty philanderer. Well, that silk bias cut shift dress is just as distracting as an attractive young intern – is it really what a Tory wife would don for a ‘do? OK, you might argue that Carrie Johnson would wear it, but she’s not a Tory wife either, not really. Later on, Sienna falls asleep fully dressed, still in her heels, and it made me really tense – affair revelations are draining, but at least get comfy in your PJs. Think of the laundry bill, getting drool off that posh frock. Not the first time dry cleaning has been an issue in a sex scandal.
From then on, it’s a succession of coats – so many different, exquisite coats and capes, swung elegantly across her slim shoulders. Are there enough days in the political calendar to accommodate such a dizzying range of outer-garments? The Whitehouse family obviously have a massive pad in Kensington or wherever, but I reckon you’d need a full floor just for her ponchos. Like, love, you’re living through a major crisis, but you still have time to peruse your walk-in wardrobe for exactly the right cashmere camel cover-up? There’s a flashback scene on a beach which really made me LOL because they look like they’re on a Boden shoot – Sienna’s in a Barbour jacket and some sort of ‘casual’ panama that is frankly ridiculous. It’s just… not real. Or maybe… too real? I feel like this is what Sienna Miller, A-list celebrity, would wear for a magazine shoot, but not what a true-blue spouse would choose. They’re dressing the actress, not the character, and sarTORYally, it’s wrong. That’s why throughout my viewing, I’ve been thinking of her as Sienna, not Sophie. So we’re +10 points for Ms Miller but -8 for Mrs Whitehouse. It’s a massive swing (coat).
Talking of jackets, let’s consider Gentleman Jack. God, I’m loving this series. It’s just so in-your-face – literally, when Anne turns to camera, Fleabag style, to break the fourth wall. I think period drama has to be go-getting, nowadays, since it got a kick up the butt from Bridgerton. I can’t be doing with anything slow or po-faced – just get on with it, dammit. And that’s what Anne Lister does, striding around Yorkshire like she owns it (maybe one day she will), one eye on her pocket watch and the other on the laydeez, to a rollicking soundtrack. When she’s not giving some whiskery old toff a dressing down in his office, she’s going down the pit to remonstrate with a drunken coal steward or hurtling down a cobbled street in a carriage, cloak-tails flapping. After knocking back a quick port, she’ll round off the day going down on her missus. She’s fabulous, and has the ensemble to match.
Anne’s dress is the focus of the credits, and it’s all in the detail – the precision of a swiftly-fastened button, ruthlessly yanked stays, a deftly positioned cravat pin. This production is not dressing Suranne Jones; they’re arming Anne Lister for battle. Similarly, the ludicrous garb of Anne’s amour Miss Walker – all puffed sleeves and absurdly coiffed ringlets - heightens the difference between them: Gentleman and woman. Master and mistress. Anne with an E, and Ann without. Anne is extra, a potent flavour, and I’m thoroughly enjoying her lesbiantics. Keep ‘em coming…
It’s how you wear it, in the end. In Gentleman Jack, Anne wears the trousers and owns the screen, whereas in Anatomy of a Scandal it felt like the clothes were starting to take over the action and swamp poor Sienna. Who knows what the hell is going on in Russian Doll, there are so many layers, but Nadia wears them with brio. In conclusion, though, to complete my dream look, I need mad red hair, the finest Max Mara cashmere, a decent corset, and the panache of a time-travelling Victorian diarist who has her fingers in many pies.
Too much? I’ll get my coat.
Anatomy of a Scandal, Russian Doll, and Gentleman Jack: what do they have in common, you may ask? Precious little, perhaps, but I find them fascinating on a very particular level. My obsession with the lead actresses has laser-focused on their clothes - I can’t stop thinking about what they’re all wearing. Clothes are so important, aren’t they? They maketh the man – or woman/Gentleman in this case. Never a very snappy dresser myself, I appreciate it in others. And the dressing, in these shows, is key.
Broadly speaking, I’m finding Russian Doll disappointing, Anatomy of a Scandal neutral, and Gentleman Jack a great joy. Russian Doll is frustrating because I enjoyed the first series so much, and find the second less satisfying – the trap isn’t nearly as neat; the web Nadia’s caught in is a loose, sloppy one, and I don’t really care how she gets out of it, or where the hell those missing gold coins are. But I have been particularly struck by the nattiness of her uniform throughout; that is, skin-tight, black-as-night jeans, black top and a kind of military coat, accessorized with gold jewellery and topped off with that glorious thatch of crazy red curls. I’ve seriously considered aping this look, including dyeing (and perming) my hair to match, but worried that I could only carry it off if I had a rasping New York accent as well. It’s crucial for a cool series like this to have a heightened, cartoonish presence as its lead, and she is absolutely nailing it, swaggering round Manhattan’s streets in whatever time zone she’s in, looking hot AF. Thumbs down for this series’ set-up but wild applause for the styling.
I didn’t have huge expectations of Anatomy of a Scandal, mainly using it as background noise while I doom-scroll of an evening. Having read some fairly brutal takedowns online, I don’t have much to add, proper-criticism-wise, but what I DO want to talk about are Sienna’s outfits, which were the things that caught my eye as I furiously trolled Jacob Rees-Mogg on Twitter. There’s something off about them. I mean, she looks sensational. Off-the-scale gorgeous, on that cusp-of-too-thin which means the folds of the material drape and flow beautifully as she whips through the halls of Westminster. But it’s not quite right. Like a loose thread that bugs you until you start unpicking it and the whole thing falls apart. Let’s go back…
In her first scene, Sienna (I can never remember her character’s name – Sarah? Sophie?) is at a party, wearing a creamy long-sleeved number, playing the loyal wife of a Conservative MP who – quelle surprise – turns out to be a naughty philanderer. Well, that silk bias cut shift dress is just as distracting as an attractive young intern – is it really what a Tory wife would don for a ‘do? OK, you might argue that Carrie Johnson would wear it, but she’s not a Tory wife either, not really. Later on, Sienna falls asleep fully dressed, still in her heels, and it made me really tense – affair revelations are draining, but at least get comfy in your PJs. Think of the laundry bill, getting drool off that posh frock. Not the first time dry cleaning has been an issue in a sex scandal.
From then on, it’s a succession of coats – so many different, exquisite coats and capes, swung elegantly across her slim shoulders. Are there enough days in the political calendar to accommodate such a dizzying range of outer-garments? The Whitehouse family obviously have a massive pad in Kensington or wherever, but I reckon you’d need a full floor just for her ponchos. Like, love, you’re living through a major crisis, but you still have time to peruse your walk-in wardrobe for exactly the right cashmere camel cover-up? There’s a flashback scene on a beach which really made me LOL because they look like they’re on a Boden shoot – Sienna’s in a Barbour jacket and some sort of ‘casual’ panama that is frankly ridiculous. It’s just… not real. Or maybe… too real? I feel like this is what Sienna Miller, A-list celebrity, would wear for a magazine shoot, but not what a true-blue spouse would choose. They’re dressing the actress, not the character, and sarTORYally, it’s wrong. That’s why throughout my viewing, I’ve been thinking of her as Sienna, not Sophie. So we’re +10 points for Ms Miller but -8 for Mrs Whitehouse. It’s a massive swing (coat).
Talking of jackets, let’s consider Gentleman Jack. God, I’m loving this series. It’s just so in-your-face – literally, when Anne turns to camera, Fleabag style, to break the fourth wall. I think period drama has to be go-getting, nowadays, since it got a kick up the butt from Bridgerton. I can’t be doing with anything slow or po-faced – just get on with it, dammit. And that’s what Anne Lister does, striding around Yorkshire like she owns it (maybe one day she will), one eye on her pocket watch and the other on the laydeez, to a rollicking soundtrack. When she’s not giving some whiskery old toff a dressing down in his office, she’s going down the pit to remonstrate with a drunken coal steward or hurtling down a cobbled street in a carriage, cloak-tails flapping. After knocking back a quick port, she’ll round off the day going down on her missus. She’s fabulous, and has the ensemble to match.
Anne’s dress is the focus of the credits, and it’s all in the detail – the precision of a swiftly-fastened button, ruthlessly yanked stays, a deftly positioned cravat pin. This production is not dressing Suranne Jones; they’re arming Anne Lister for battle. Similarly, the ludicrous garb of Anne’s amour Miss Walker – all puffed sleeves and absurdly coiffed ringlets - heightens the difference between them: Gentleman and woman. Master and mistress. Anne with an E, and Ann without. Anne is extra, a potent flavour, and I’m thoroughly enjoying her lesbiantics. Keep ‘em coming…
It’s how you wear it, in the end. In Gentleman Jack, Anne wears the trousers and owns the screen, whereas in Anatomy of a Scandal it felt like the clothes were starting to take over the action and swamp poor Sienna. Who knows what the hell is going on in Russian Doll, there are so many layers, but Nadia wears them with brio. In conclusion, though, to complete my dream look, I need mad red hair, the finest Max Mara cashmere, a decent corset, and the panache of a time-travelling Victorian diarist who has her fingers in many pies.
Too much? I’ll get my coat.
- Russian Doll – Series 2, 7 episode, Netflix
- Anatomy of a Scandal – 6 episodes, Netflix
- Gentleman Jack – Series 2, 8 episodes, BBC One
