Fashion is, and always has been, about expression; what you wear can send a message about who you are. For entertainment like film and television, it’s a way to explain to the audience who your characters are immediately and without subterfuge. It’s the “show, not tell” of characterization and this is especially true for films in the horror genre, where character development often takes a back seat.
From the mod style of Rosemary’s Baby (1968) to Shelley Duvall as a timid housewife icon in 1980’s The Shining, horror characters represent their time, not just through their on-screen trauma, but their wardrobe as well. When we think of 80s fashion, we can hardly forget the vampire-punk essence of films like The Hunger (1983) and The Lost Boys (1987). Movies like The Craft (1996) and Ginger Snaps (2000) show off the teenage rebellion of the late 90s and early 2000s, and futuristic fashion played a pivotal role in films like The Cell (2000) and Pitch Black (2000).
Specific pieces of fashion from horror have gone on to life in infamy, such as Freddy Kruger’s striped sweater from A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), Carrie’s bloody prom dress (1976), and even Blade’s iconic leather jacket (1998). The Bride of Frankenstein’s entire ensemble is instantly recognizable, as are the creepy twins’s pinafores from The Shining (1980) or even Jennifer’s pink and red heart-patterned hoodie from Jennifer’s Body (2009). There’s a reason we see these looks pop up every Halloween season.
While fashion and style is an important part of film overall, it has become especially critical when crafting horror protagonists. Horror films have often focused on a lone female lead and, as the genre developed, this role became more solidified into what we now call the “final girl.” The slasher subgenre especially seems to rely on categorization of its characters (a typecasting smartly and hilariously parodied in the witty 2011 film Cabin in the Woods). Fashion and physical appearance play into this; whether a jock, nerd, popular girl, or weirdo artsy type—clothing style gives it away. This is especially obvious when you look at the difference between the designated “final girl” and the other females of the cast.
Final girls are the films’ heroes—the ones who eschew sex and drugs for survival. Their wardrobe must strike that delicate balance between attractive and respectful; neither too sexy nor too demure. In 1984’s A Nightmare on Elm Street we see final girl Nancy in sweaters and slacks while her not-final best friend Tina spends most of her screen time in a state of undress. In 1996’s Scream, final girl Sidney’s outfits are always decidedly more boring than her fashionable and soon-to-be-killed-off best friend Tatum, often clothed in miniskirts and midriff-baring tops.
In the original 1978 Halloween, our trio of teenage girls includes final girl Laurie in thick tights, a long skirt, and a shapeless cardigan while her two friends wear tight pants and more stylish looks. Of course, later on in the film, both friends go on to be killed—half-naked—while Laurie ends up surviving the terrifying Michael Myers because she chooses to stay in and babysit, rather than seek hanky-panky with a male student.
Whether it’s Friday the 13th’s slutty camp counselors in short shorts or Piranha’s bikini-clad babes, the less skin covered, the more likely that character will not survive to the end of the film. What these characters wear is so closely tied to their role in these often-formulaic films that audiences can usually spot the final girl from merely a publicity photo. That’s not to say the final girl can’t be sexy; in fact, they must be attractive for the audience to root for them. It’s only that they must be a little less overtly sexy and/or promiscuous than their doomed co-stars.
It seems that the final girl cannot escape the stereotype of the “cool girl” that so staunchly proliferates popular culture. Amy Dunne’s monologue bemoaning it in 2014’s Gone Girl has become a quotable sound bite:
“‘Cool girl.” Men always use that, don’t they? As their defining compliment: ‘She’s a cool girl.’ Cool girl is hot. Cool girl is game. Cool girl is fun. Cool girl never gets angry at her man. She only smiles in a chagrined, loving manner. And then presents her mouth for fucking. She likes what he likes, so evidently he’s a vinyl hipster who loves fetish manga. If he likes girls gone wild, she’s a mall babe who talks football and endures buffalo wings at Hooters.”
Being the cool girl is essential for a final girl to survive. She has to be “not like other girls” in the sense that she doesn’t dress sexy for boys but somehow inherently is. She must fit into this fantasy so the audience (read: male audience) can be pacified by her survival. Cool girls drink beer and like sports. They don’t care about fashion trends, nor do they wear makeup (but don’t worry, they’re always naturally beautiful).
In 2019’s Ready or Not, Grace dons yellow Converse with the tattered remains of her wedding gown as she spends the film trying to survive the murderous advances of her new husband and entire extended family. In 2019’s Haunt, final girl Harper is the only one of the group who isn’t wearing a Halloween costume, instead covering up in standard jeans and a hoodie. Naturally, she outlives her Sexy Nurse, Sexy Cat, and Sexy Flapper best friends.
More serious than her silly best friend, Jessie in Wrong Turn (2003) wears the classic early-2000s final girl/cool girl uniform of a plain white tank top and jeans. This became a staple look replicated by Erin in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003), Ana in Dawn of the Dead (2004), and Carly in House of Wax (2005). What is it about jeans and a plain white top that scream “final girl”? The fact that it’s basic means she’s not screaming “look at me.” You do, of course, look at her, because she’s always extremely good-looking. But by dressing like she doesn’t care, she’s the “cool girl.”
Take a look at Cassidy from Sorority Row (2009): although a member of the sorority like the other ladies, she was always somehow too cool for the rest of them. Complimented by her sisters for being “so real,” she’s often seen in muted colors and more androgynous style than her co-stars who wore more traditionally feminine and risqué looks. She survives when others don’t because she doesn’t actively partake in their accidental killing and covering up of said killing of a sorority sister. Naturally, her pared down wardrobe reflects this.
Erin in You’re Next (2011) is another great example that turns any kind of cool girl/final girl dichotomy on its head. The film starts with her as the obvious cool girl: naturally thin, pretty, and down-to-earth. After the murderous plot of her boyfriend is revealed, we soon realize that Erin (an alumni of survivalist training) is way cooler than anyone as she uses her training, wit, and fortitude to not only survive but hunt down the would-be-killers. And of course, she does it all while wearing the entirely practical and hardly revealing outfit of jeans and a plain gray shirt.
Both fashion and the horror genre are strong indicators of current culture—including attitudes towards women and the things that scare us. It may be argued that society fears a powerful, self-confident woman more than any Michael Myers or Freddy Kruger and perhaps that’s why we fit our female characters into such tightly defined boxes—both through their actions and their outfits. The final girls are allowed to survive only because they act (and dress) according to the standards we’ve set forth for them.
Fashion is an incredibly important and valid way to express ourselves—in real life and on screen. As film continues to evolve to feature more diverse characters (with horror often leading the way), we owe more to our female characters and especially our final girls. I want to see more variety in the women allowed to survive the horror film. I want to see a hyper-feminine girl with long nails, high heels and a pink frilly dress take down the killer. I want to see a butch lesbian in traditionally masculine clothes and not styled to meet the male gaze make it to the credits. Why can’t final girls be as diverse on screen as they are in real life?
Despite this final girl fashion contradiction, I feel confident in saying that the horror genre’s representation of women has come a long way and continues to evolve as our society does. I can’t wait to see what the final girls of the next generation will be wearing!
