Who said clothes are not a matter of life or death? In Succession, they are both | Morwenna Ferrier
In the days after my mother died, I spent a lot of time online looking for shoes to wear to her funeral.
Not an obvious reaction to bereavement. But while I had a dress - a black one with pretty red peonies that I kept rolled up in my bag when her illness started to flare up over the summer - we were in lockdown so the shops were closed, and I didn't. wasn't going to wear Birkenstocks. Eventually I found some brogues on eBay and after wiping them down with Dettol tried everything. I looked good, put together. But that was the problem. Watching "gathered together" seemed like the wrong answer when I felt anything other than that. On the day of her funeral, I wore my mother's navy skirt suit. It was too big and I was too hot, but for both reasons I felt much more appropriate.
I remembered all of this after seeing Shiv Roy walking behind his father's coffin in the most recent episode of Succession. Even in deep grief, she was forced to look the part: powdered nose, swept-up hair, black pantsuit with Disney villain cleavage and an establishment pearl necklace. In short, an offspring and a firebrand – not a grieving mother-to-be. Death is an excellent leveler until it is no longer.
Succession is not a spectacle formulated in realism, however tangible it may be. sibling dynamics. It's a show about appearances and, inside, about clothes. Nobody eats, shops or – despite being pregnant – seems to have sex.
The only constant is what these horrible people are wearing, which remains largely unchanged during the four seasons. With the exception of Shiv, who, as the only daughter of an incredibly wealthy and powerful right-winger, is more watched than most. In the first series, she was a long-haired liberal in Fair Isle knitwear by H&M (H&M!) and dresses by Ted Baker. Now she wears button-up Max Mara vests and Ralph Lauren houndstooth jackets, betraying herself as a woman out of control, but trapped in a catastrophic loop of family discontent, lies and daddy issues. .
The main change is of course that she is pregnant, a fact she has tried to hide until now. As someone who is also pregnant, albeit a few weeks late, I think managing this has been the costume department's biggest challenge and biggest success. The first trimester is going well. At 20 weeks, there is no escape. And yet no elastic waist or tent dress for Shiv! Instead, long blazers to hide her bump, low-cut tops to distract, and a nifty taupe Skims bodysuit to keep that bump a secret. Are night sweats getting you down? Just pinch your hair (about that - I've noticed some continuity issues this season, with his hair going from straight to wavy mid-stage, suggesting they're thinking about Shiv's hair as much as I'm thinking about mine). Twitter certainly had fun poking fun at Shiv's sad ponytail at Connor's wedding. But as anyone familiar with pregnancy hormones knows, second trimester hair has its own will.
One of the hardest things for a woman to do pregnant is to confront this shape-shifting body while trying to maintain their identity. Most keep their pregnancy a secret for at least 12 weeks for fear of miscarriage or complications. These dangers are real – around 10-20% of known pregnancies end in miscarriage – and most of us would rather not risk sharing news early to have difficult conversations later. This silence is not very amusing. But even after that point, the risks persist and can be compounded by judgment and professional retaliation – while trying not to vomit on time. In Shiv's case, that judgment comes from her family, the tabloids, and all those people who told her she would be a terrible mother. Roman's joke about her weight is the least of it.
Caught between these dueling realities, it's no wonder she went turbo-Tom-Ford -Girlboss. Nor is it surprising that she aligned herself with an alternative billionaire from Sweden: a country where parental rights are light years away from the United States. The many cultural differences between Alexander Skarsgård's Lukas Matsson and the Roy brothers are also signaled in their clothing, which sets the scene long before they begin negotiations (although you can certainly imagine Kendall wearing the Swede's gold bomber jacket. of the Tailgate party during its existential phase in season two).
In the days after my mother died, I spent a lot of time online looking for shoes to wear to her funeral.
Not an obvious reaction to bereavement. But while I had a dress - a black one with pretty red peonies that I kept rolled up in my bag when her illness started to flare up over the summer - we were in lockdown so the shops were closed, and I didn't. wasn't going to wear Birkenstocks. Eventually I found some brogues on eBay and after wiping them down with Dettol tried everything. I looked good, put together. But that was the problem. Watching "gathered together" seemed like the wrong answer when I felt anything other than that. On the day of her funeral, I wore my mother's navy skirt suit. It was too big and I was too hot, but for both reasons I felt much more appropriate.
I remembered all of this after seeing Shiv Roy walking behind his father's coffin in the most recent episode of Succession. Even in deep grief, she was forced to look the part: powdered nose, swept-up hair, black pantsuit with Disney villain cleavage and an establishment pearl necklace. In short, an offspring and a firebrand – not a grieving mother-to-be. Death is an excellent leveler until it is no longer.
Succession is not a spectacle formulated in realism, however tangible it may be. sibling dynamics. It's a show about appearances and, inside, about clothes. Nobody eats, shops or – despite being pregnant – seems to have sex.
The only constant is what these horrible people are wearing, which remains largely unchanged during the four seasons. With the exception of Shiv, who, as the only daughter of an incredibly wealthy and powerful right-winger, is more watched than most. In the first series, she was a long-haired liberal in Fair Isle knitwear by H&M (H&M!) and dresses by Ted Baker. Now she wears button-up Max Mara vests and Ralph Lauren houndstooth jackets, betraying herself as a woman out of control, but trapped in a catastrophic loop of family discontent, lies and daddy issues. .
The main change is of course that she is pregnant, a fact she has tried to hide until now. As someone who is also pregnant, albeit a few weeks late, I think managing this has been the costume department's biggest challenge and biggest success. The first trimester is going well. At 20 weeks, there is no escape. And yet no elastic waist or tent dress for Shiv! Instead, long blazers to hide her bump, low-cut tops to distract, and a nifty taupe Skims bodysuit to keep that bump a secret. Are night sweats getting you down? Just pinch your hair (about that - I've noticed some continuity issues this season, with his hair going from straight to wavy mid-stage, suggesting they're thinking about Shiv's hair as much as I'm thinking about mine). Twitter certainly had fun poking fun at Shiv's sad ponytail at Connor's wedding. But as anyone familiar with pregnancy hormones knows, second trimester hair has its own will.
One of the hardest things for a woman to do pregnant is to confront this shape-shifting body while trying to maintain their identity. Most keep their pregnancy a secret for at least 12 weeks for fear of miscarriage or complications. These dangers are real – around 10-20% of known pregnancies end in miscarriage – and most of us would rather not risk sharing news early to have difficult conversations later. This silence is not very amusing. But even after that point, the risks persist and can be compounded by judgment and professional retaliation – while trying not to vomit on time. In Shiv's case, that judgment comes from her family, the tabloids, and all those people who told her she would be a terrible mother. Roman's joke about her weight is the least of it.
Caught between these dueling realities, it's no wonder she went turbo-Tom-Ford -Girlboss. Nor is it surprising that she aligned herself with an alternative billionaire from Sweden: a country where parental rights are light years away from the United States. The many cultural differences between Alexander Skarsgård's Lukas Matsson and the Roy brothers are also signaled in their clothing, which sets the scene long before they begin negotiations (although you can certainly imagine Kendall wearing the Swede's gold bomber jacket. of the Tailgate party during its existential phase in season two).
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