Peter III's Over-the-Top Wardrobe in 'The Great' Is a Perfect Vacation From WFH Style
Welcome to Deep Cuts, a series where we dive headfirst into the sources of inspiration, obscure or otherwise, that inform the way we're dressing now. Today we’re taking a look at the costume design on Hulu’s aptly named The Great.
For the first few weeks of lockdown, it was nice imagining what we'd all be wearing under different circumstances. There was small solace to be had in getting dressed, in cheffing up fits for what seemed like a not-too-distant, post-pandemic future. Then reality set in. The knowledge that there'd be no return to normal any time soon lent dressing up with regularity—only to parade your outfit around the confines of your sad, cramped apartment—a certain degree of melancholy, as if haunted by the ghosts of fits not gotten off. Shirts started going limp on their hangers. Shoes started gathering dust on the floor. Regular-rotation pieces started being relegated to the back of the closet, a reminder of what could have been.
Bingeing Hulu's The Great recently was the balm I needed. The 10-episode miniseries, which started streaming in mid-May, is a gleefully anachronistic romp through 18th century Russia, as told through the protracted rise to power of Catherine the Not-Yet-Great (played by a beguiling Elle Fanning). The show centers around Catherine's souring relationship with her husband Peter III (the somehow-sympathetic Nicholas Hoult), a petulant, debauched Emperor who oversees a court of backstabbing social-climbers and sycophantic hangers-on constantly vying for his favor.
And holy shit, the clothing's good. Much attention's been paid to Elle Fanning's Dior-inspired court attire, but it's Peter's decadent, devil-may-care style—what costume designer Emma Fryer calls his "18th century punk rock, bad boy" look—that really stands out, particularly in the context of how men are dressing today.
Peter's style—a mishmash of contemporary runway influences and period-appropriate silhouettes, with a healthy dose of animal prints and über-luxe fabrics mixed in for good measure—is at its best when it's sloppy and literally half-buttoned, a perfect mirror of Peter's louche approach to his role as Emperor. Like the best designer duds, Peter's clothing is so obviously high-end in origin that it only manages to look all the better because of—not despite—his casual indifference to its finery. The best way to wear your clothing, Peter's attitude suggests, is to really wear it, and forego any deference to its preciousness in the process.
Peter is so assured of his divinely ordained right to rule he scoffs at the very suggestion that he could be anything less than a stellar Emperor, even as all evidence indicates otherwise. His woefully misguided confidence, sure to be his downfall down the line, also represents a critical element of his appeal. Because it never occurs to him that he might look foolish, it never occurs to us either. His blind faith in himself is in part what makes him such a thrilling dresser—and such an insufferable prick.
In his richly patterned silks and chiffons (and sometimes, his late mother's pearls), Peter also exudes tremendous, "Do you know who my father is?!" energy, a welcome reminder that attitude is everything and clothing can only do so much to mask a shitty disposition. He's an archetypal privileged douchebag who it's easy to imagine, say, harassing an over-extended bouncer outside of 1 Oak in 2015, but instead he's berating some poor royal lackey who fails to anticipate his every mercurial whim. Peter's the type of dude whose fit you might admire as he saunters by, only for you to immediately resent the internal goodwill you directed his way when you step in his dog's shit down the block.
For history buffs (or anyone who cares enough to hop on Wikipedia), there's comfort in knowing Peter will get what he deserves. In some ways, his imminent comeuppance feels like some small retribution for the many centuries' worth of privileged douchebaggery people like him (read: white, wealthy, and in power) have been getting away with since long before he ruled. He's a poster boy for the worst type of blithely entitled ignorance, and all the brocaded regalia in the world can't protect him from the reckoning coming his way.
After finishing the series, there's little I wanted to do more than put on some really fucking wild pants (and maybe even a *checks notes* collared shirt?) and venture back out onto the mean streets of NYC. But The Great also serves as a valuable reminder that clothes—no matter how good—do not, in fact, make the man. If anything, it's the other way around, a sentiment worth considering as we all think on how the hell to comport ourselves going forward in these odd (dare I say...unprecedented) times.
If Peter's fatal character flaws are any indication, "conscientiously" is a good place to start.
You Might Also Like
