Velvet, Lace, and That One Time Dracula Wore Sunglasses
An Unnecessary Look at Vampire Fashion That You Didn’t Ask for but Probably Need (+ Links)
We’ve stepped firmly into the “-ber” months and I have a confession: I’ve been binge-watching vampire movies. Sure, it’s “research” for my latest two-part episode of The Bygone Society Show about the history of the vampire, but let’s be real—I’m reveling in the dark, dramatic fashion pilgrimage. From Roman Polanski’s 1967 The Fearless Vampire Killers to Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight, vampire fashion is killer.
And is it just me, or are you also seeing a flood of mossy greens, jet blacks, and deep burgundies flit across your feeds? Either way, I’m officially declaring it—vampire style is back from the dead.
First up, we have a whimsical and unconventional take on vampires in Roman Polanski’s 1967 The Fearless Vampire Killers, a horror-comedy film that parodies the traditional vampire genre of old. The film’s full title is The Fearless Vampire Killers, or Pardon Me, but Your Teeth Are in My Neck. It flopped harder than a vampire in sunlight. Critics couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a horror flick or a comedy, but as is the fate of all campy movies, it eventually found its cult following.
Set in a snowy Transylvanian village, the story follows Professor Abronsius, an eccentric vampire hunter, and his bumbling apprentice, Alfred (played by Polanski himself), as they search for the elusive Count von Krolock, a vampire suspected of terrorizing the local population.
The costumes are like a gothic fever dream wrapped in velvet capes and powdered wigs, with a dash of slapstick for flavor. Take Professor Abronsius and his sidekick Alfred, for example—bundled up like they’re headed for an arctic expedition, these two wander the wintry landscape in oversized, moth-eaten coats that scream “hopeless nerds.” Their mismatched, threadbare layers don’t give the impression of “vampire slayers,” but they perfectly complement their klutzy antics.
Meanwhile, Count von Krolock is serving haute couture bloodsucker in lavishly embroidered robes. His son Herbert? Pure camp, with his baroque outfits that make him look more suited for a decadent opera than a midnight hunt.
But the real star is the vampire ball. Imagine an undead gala where everyone’s in head-to-toe 19th-century finery—glistening jewels, floor-length gowns, wigs piled high. It’s a who’s who of ghostly aristocrats, and the costumes turn what could be a standard horror moment into something absurdly fabulous. Sarah, the innkeeper’s daughter and love interest played by Sharon Tate, completes her transformation from small-town lass to vampiric ingénue in a blood-red gown that practically floats down the staircase. The undead’s version of a glow up. Or maybe just my version…
The Fearless Vampire Killers inspired looks: Vintage Gap blue velvet blazer, 1970s Victorian-style woold jacket, and Edwardian Liberty & Co. burgandy wool cloak.
Fast forward a few years to 1970, The Vampire Lovers, a Hammer Studio’s classic pushed the boundaries and redefined vampire cinema. Directed by Roy Ward Baker, this adaptation of J. Sheridan Le Fanu's novella Carmilla embraced a bold, sensual aesthetic that altered the way audiences perceived vampires—as symbols of eroticism and lust.
The film was released during the sexual revolution of the 1960s and 70s and capitalized on the shifting cultural landscape. The costumes reflected contemporary attitudes toward sexuality, enabling the film to challenge traditional representations of female characters in horror and vampire genres.
You can see this in the sheer fabrics, daring necklines, and body-hugging silhouettes that dominate the screen. While the film is set in a 19th-century context, the costumes only mildly reflect the era—it’s the 70s influence that’s hot n’ heavy.
I tracked down some sultry 60s/70s empire waist nightgowns and dresses with that pop of color and good ol’ chiffon-polyester blend the decade is known for: 1970s blue brocade Oscar de la Renta studio ballgown, vintage 70s teal maxi dress, and this 70s emerald green empire waist peignoir.
The 70s eye makeup and flowing white nightgowns carry over into Werner Herzog’s 1979 Nosferatu the Vampyre. Herzog, who hailed the original 1922 film as a masterpiece, wanted to blend its legacy with the exciting new wave of German “renaissance” cinema. The result? A hauntingly atmospheric tale that thrives on intense dread and longing.
Cinematographer Jörg Schmidt-Reitwein had a vision of “shimmering pastels.” He banned bright colors, opting for a somber palette that deepens the film’s eeriness. The costumes reflect this minimalist approach—limited in color and detail. With a small budget, Herzog kept the outfits sparse, letting the characters’ raw vulnerability shine through and enhancing the film’s themes of isolation and yearning.
If you’re vibing with that sad girl fall aesthetic, I found these edgy pieces that scream Nosferatu: Y2K vintage lace top in ivory, Nine West Y2K leather heeled combat boot, and this amazing coffin-shaped metal tassel purse.
The 90s—at last, my playground. And with it comes the penultimate vampire style in Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Coppola had a bold vision for this adaptation, famously declaring, "The costumes will be the set." He allocated a significant portion of the budget to Eiko Ishioka's breathtaking designs, transforming the film into a visual feast.
Ishioka, who had initially carved out a career in advertising, only had two costume credits and a handful of production design experiences when Coppola hired the avant-garde and evocative designer to bring his vision to life. He was right in doing so, and Ishioka won “Best Costume Design” at the 1993 Oscars.
Dracula had always donned the traditional costume-y black cape up, up until Ishioka put a stake in it. And for that, I bow down. You can join the children of the night with this stunning vintage Japanese red silk capelet.
Lucky Gary Oldman, portraying Count Dracula, had as many costume changes as the next. I love the steampunk vibes with the purple-hued sunglasses that scream 1890s flair. It’s a stylish nod to the past, proving that even the undead know how to accessorize. (Yes, there were sunglasses in the 19th century, and you can have a pair of your own here, here, and here).
At the start of the film, Winona’s character Mina Murray is wholesome, proper, and utterly boring, though I do have an affinity for her pale green blossom dress with buttons high on the neckline. But I much prefer when she “turns to the dark side” in the blood red dress in pics below.
I wonder if this exact film still and promotional photo inspired the 2004 movie adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera?
Lucy Westenra’s bridal gown steals the show. It’s unforgettable—modeled after an Australian frilled lizard. Genius.
Eiko Ishioka’s design takes it up a notch. The lace collar makes Lucy’s head look almost detached, while the jeweled choker screams “bite me” in the most literal way.
Actress Sadie Frost dishes on THE wedding gown in the interview below, saying she spent over 12 hours in fittings for the costumers to make it. Oh, and it might’ve also been inspired by a Klimt painting, which I can totally see. You can replicate the look with this vintage six-strand pearl choker and this beaded and lace 60s column gown.
A few years later, we were struck by Interview with a Vampire, the film that had us questioning if we’d been craving “timeless” pieces or “immortal” fashion all this time. Directed by Neil Jordan and based on Anne Rice’s sensational novel, this 1994 adaptation became a cultural phenomenon, and for good reason.
With a star-studded cast, including Tom Cruise as Lestat, Brad Pitt as Louis, and bébé Kirsten Dunst as Claudia, rewatching this movie is like slipping into your favorite pair of vintage velvet boots—comfortable yet dripping with drama. Why bother with therapy when you can watch Louis brood in a beautifully lit crypt? (Though, I actually endorse both).
Let’s talk about the lush visuals, dramatic lighting, and fabulously ornate costumes. They scream 90s gothic romance in all the right ways. Crafted by the legendary designer Gabriella Pescucci, she captured the decadence of the 18th and 19th centuries, blending sumptuous fabrics with a dramatic flair.
Each ensemble told a story: Lestat's is all about flamboyance and excess. He wears luxurious fabrics like silk and brocade in rich, deep colors—bold reds, deep blacks, and shimmering golds. His outfits often feature high collars, intricate lace detailing, and dramatic silhouettes that embody his larger-than-life personality. Lestat's style reflects his confidence, seduction, and the hedonistic nature of his character.
In contrast, Louis's attire is more muted and somber, mirroring his brooding and introspective nature. His wardrobe consists of darker tones—mostly blacks and grays—often made from heavier fabrics that look almost melancholic. The cut of his clothing is tailored but understated, featuring simple lines that lack the ornate detail found in Lestat’s outfits. Louis’s costumes convey a sense of restraint and sadness, emphasizing his internal struggle and moral dilemmas.
Claudia’s costumes evolve throughout the film, starting with childlike, delicate dresses in pastel shades that contrast with the film's darker themes. As she matures, her wardrobe takes on a more sophisticated look—Victorian-inspired dresses with intricate lace, deep colors, and an eerie elegance.
Her style perfectly depicts the paradox of her character: a woman trapped in a child’s body. I've always felt the most sympathy for Claudia. Immortality sounds glamorous when you're in your prime, but being a forever child with a mature mind? Or worse, an old soul trapped in a frail body? I’ll pass, Lestat.
You can replicate Interview style with this, that and the other.
Honestly, who would I be if I didn’t mention Twilight? Not myself, that’s who. It’s like my personal party trick—I can (and will) reference this masterpiece at any given moment, no matter the context.
I first picked up Twilight (the book) when it hit shelves in October 2005, at the tender age of 13, and let’s be real, I was an awkward preteen—but nowhere near as awkward as Bella, bless her heart. From that moment on, I embraced my identity as a proud Twihard. I like to think it’s akin to the fervor that Harry Potter fans have (or had) for their beloved series, though I fully recognize that my obsession is a few notches more cringeworthy. But I made peace with that a long time ago.
I don’t know if there's profound symbolism in the film's costumes—though I'm sure there is—but I'm too tired to dig it out, and this newsletter is already pushing into the next century lengthwise. So, let’s keep it light with a few outfits and some wry captions, shall we? Overall, the fashion was delightfully mundane and expertly tailored, making it all too easy for preteen Kate to half expect the Cullen clan to frolic across her school lunchroom.
This is by no means an exhaustive list of the looks our fanged fiends flaunt (heh). What looks did I miss? Hit me up in the comments with your favorites—whether it’s a fashion triumph or a total flop, I want to know!
xx
Indicator of the 70s...LOVE: "Long, flowing hair, cat-eyes and a psychedelic backdrop. It must be the 70s!"