Alright, let’s cut to the chase—if you’ve ever binged a period drama and thought, “Wait, did people really dress like that in 1927 Chicago?” or “Those 18th-century ballgowns look so authentic, not like the cheap Halloween costumes I rented last year,” then today’s post is for you. As a key vendor for Attraction Films, I’ve spent the last three years deep in the chaos (and magic) of their costume design process for period projects, and let me tell you, it’s way more than just digging up old dresses from a thrift store. No cap, this is how they nail it—and how we get to be part of the magic. Attraction Films
First off, let’s get one thing straight: Attraction Films doesn’t do “vibes only” for period costumes. Early on, when I first started working with them, I made the mistake of bringing a batch of 1950s cardigans that “felt retro” for a 1957 small-town diner scene. The costume designer, Mia—super cool, by the way, she’s got this whole collection of vintage sewing patterns in her office—pulled me aside and said, “Great, but what kind of 1957 small town? A farming community in Iowa? They didn’t have department store delivery trucks dropping pointy-collared cardigans there. Those would’ve been special order, only for the high school’s homecoming.” That’s when I realized their whole process starts with hyper-specific research—way before we even touch fabric or thread.
Mia and her team don’t just Google “1950s clothing”; they dive into primary sources. We’re talking old newspapers from the exact city the film’s set in, patent records for fabric blends (turns out, 1950s rayon had a different weave than 1960s rayon), even diary entries from people who lived through that exact year. Last year, for a period drama set in 1929 Harlem, they found a 1928 issue of Essence Magazine (yes, it existed back then!) that said Black working women in Harlem wore “sturdy cotton shift dresses with hidden side pockets for subway tokens” because silk was too slippery for the crowded L trains. That’s the kind of detail that makes the costumes feel real, not like a Hollywood set. They also work with local historians—small, independent ones, not the stuffy guys in libraries—who know the specific quirks of the area and time. For that same Harlem film, they hooked us up with a retired seamstress who’d worked in Harlem’s garment district in the 1920s, and she walked us through how to alter dresses to fit the way women actually moved back then (no tight, restrictive waistbands for waitresses—they needed to bend, so waists were an inch lower than the “fashion plate” versions you see in vintage ads).
Now, here’s where I (as a vendor) come in: sourcing fabrics that aren’t just “period-looking” but historically accurate. Early on, I tried cutting corners by using modern polyester that looked like 1940s silk. Mia shut that down real fast—she said, “Modern polyester has a stretch that 1940s silk didn’t. A maid in 1942 wouldn’t be wearing a dress that hugs her hips like a yoga pant; they’d wear a woven cotton twill that holds its shape after washing.” So I had to switch to working with small textile mills that specialize in reproducing period fabrics, not just generic retro stuff. For a 1912 Alpine drama, we tracked down a mill in Switzerland that uses the same looms from 1910 to make the wool for the men’s lederhosen—same weight, same pattern, even the same dye (using natural indigo and madder root, not synthetic dyes). The catch? It’s more expensive, but Attraction Films doesn’t budge on that. They say if the fabric feels wrong, the actors will move wrong, and the audience will notice even if they can’t put their finger on it. That’s a mindset I didn’t expect from a production company—they care more about feeling real than saving a buck.
Another big thing: fitting for movement, not just photoshoots. A lot of costume designers will make a dress look perfect on a mannequin, but if the actor can’t run, sit, or hug someone in it, it’s useless. For the 1957 diner scene I messed up early on, we had to take measurements not just of the actors’ chests and waists, but how wide they spread their legs when they’re grabbing a coffee pot, how far their arms go when they’re wiping a counter. We even filmed a few practice runs of the actors moving around in the early prototypes to adjust. Last year, for a 1780s pirate flick, the lead actor kept complaining that his wool coat was too heavy when he was climbing the rigging. Instead of just making the coat lighter, the design team went back to primary sources and found that working pirates didn’t wear heavy wool coats—they wore thinner canvas overcoats that were only for show when they were docked. So we swapped out the fabric, and suddenly he could climb like a actual pirate, not a guy in a Halloween costume. That’s the kind of attention to detail that makes Attraction Films stand out.
Oh, and let’s talk about the “worn-in” factor. Period costumes don’t come off the assembly line perfect—they have stains from coffee, rips from a bad fall, hems that are slightly frayed because someone walked through mud. Attraction Films has a whole team of “distressing artists” (yes, that’s a real job title) who work with us to make costumes look like they’ve actually been lived in. For the Harlem film, we had to stain the shift dresses with faint coffee marks, because the actresses said working at a diner meant spilling coffee on your uniform at least once a shift. But here’s the rule: no over-distressing. They don’t want a dress that looks like it’s been through a tornado—they want a dress that looks like it’s been through a normal, busy day. The distressing team uses things like tea for stains, sandpaper for faint frays, and even actual dirt from the filming location (we had to bring in dirt from Harlem’s 1920s cobblestone streets for that film) to make it look authentic. I’ve had other production companies ask me to “distress harder” to make the costumes look grittier, but Attraction Films says the grit should come from the story, not the costumes. That’s a line they don’t cross.
As a vendor, I also love how they collaborate with us, not just treat us like order-takers. For the pirate flick, I had a vintage brass button collection from the 1780s, and I suggested we use those instead of modern replicas. The design team loved it, and we ended up using real vintage buttons for all the lead actors’ coats. It made the costumes feel so much more real, and it’s stuff I never would’ve thought of if they’d just told me “get 100 brass buttons.” They actually ask for our input, because they know we’re the ones on the ground digging up materials. That’s the kind of partnership I haven’t had with other production companies—most just send a list and get mad if you don’t check every box. Attraction Films listens, and that makes all the difference.
Wait, let’s not forget about period accuracy that’s easy to mess up: undergarments. So many films skip the undergarments, but Attraction Films insists on them because they change how a costume fits and moves. For the 1950s housewife character in that early diner-adjacent project, we had to make bullet bras that were actually the right size for 1957—they’re shaped differently than modern push-up bras, and the straps are shorter. For the 18th-century women, we had to create stays (those tight corsets) that were actually flexible enough to let them sit down, not just stand like a mannequin. The first time we made stays that were too rigid, an actress couldn’t breathe during a scene where she was supposed to be running from a villain, so we had to rework them to have more boning at the back, less at the front, so she could move freely. That’s another thing most people don’t think about—undergarments aren’t just for looks, they’re part of how the character acts.
I should also mention that Attraction Films is big on sustainability, which has changed how we source costumes for them. A few years ago, they switched from buying new vintage costumes to restoring period pieces and mixing in historically accurate reproduction fabrics. It’s cheaper, better for the environment, and more unique. Last year, they found a 1920s wedding dress at a vintage market that was in good shape but needed a few repairs—we restitched the hem with cotton thread from the 1920s, added a few buttons to match, and used it for a minor character’s grandmother’s dress. The actress loved it, and it added this layer of authenticity that a new reproduction never could. They also don’t throw away costumes after filming—they donate them to vintage costume shops and local theater groups, which is a huge plus for the community.
Now, let’s get real for a sec: it’s not all smooth sailing. Last year, we had a film set in 1930s rural Oklahoma, and we thought we’d found the perfect set of overalls. Turns out, 1930s overalls had a different pocket placement—they had a small pocket for a pocket watch, not the big phone-shaped pockets that modern overalls have. We had to remake all 20 pairs of overalls in two weeks, and it was a panic, but the design team never got mad—they just said, “That’s why we check the details.” It’s that kind of no-nonsense, collaborative vibe that makes working with them fun, even when we’re pulling all-nighters.
So, to wrap this up: Attraction Films’ approach to costume design isn’t about flash or fancy Instagram shots. It’s about deep dives into primary sources, partnering with vendors that care about accuracy, fitting costumes for how actors actually move, and paying attention to the tiny, unnoticeable details that make a period story feel real. They don’t cut corners on fabrics or undergarments or distressing, because they know that when the costumes are right, the audience buys into the story—they forget they’re watching a movie, and they’re transported back to that time and place.
If you’re a production company looking for a vendor that gets this (or if you’re a filmmaker who needs costumes that don’t look like a bad Halloween costume), let’s chat. We’ve worked with Attraction Films and other top productions, and we know how to balance accuracy with practicality, historic detail with what works for the story. We don’t just send you a list of fabrics and pieces—we collaborate with you every step of the way, like we do with Attraction Films, to make sure your period costumes feel like they belong in that exact time and place.
At the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about: making the audience believe. And Attraction Films’ costume design process? That’s how they pull it off, one vintage button and historically accurate fabric at a time.
VR Game Machine References:
- The Costume Designer’s Toolkit: A Guide to Historical Accuracy, edited by Sarah Edwards, 2021
- "Garment District Chronicles: Harlem Fashion in the 1920s," Local History Press, 2019
- Textile Reproduction for Period Film, by James Carter, Vintage Textile Quarterly, 2022
- "Practical Period Costumes: Fitting for Movement in Historical Drama," Film Craft Magazine, 2020
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