How Ratched Reigns with Style

In 2019, Empire Magazine asked its readers who they thought were the most iconic villains of all time. From their answers, the magazine published an online article highlighting the 20 most iconic villains and why such characters were so recognizable. The antagonists selected to feature in the piece included, among others, The Joker, Darth Vader, Lord Voldemort, Agent Smith, Sauron, Hannibal Lecter, Loki, and…

Nurse Ratched.

Nurse Ratched? The only female villain on such a list? It seems like Louise Fletcher’s Oscar-worthy portrayal of the One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest antagonist has been immortalized by people throughout the years. What has enthralled the audiences to care for, or rather, fear such a character? What is it about Mildred Ratched that makes people remember her so “fondly?” Ryan Murphy and Sarah Paulson’s new Netflix series Ratched goes deep into those questions.

Or do they? The first season rather deconstructs the nature of Ratched’s character, showing her as a determined, quick-witted, imposing woman. But before trying to show her as the merciless villain of the 1975 movie and the 1962 book, the series humanizes her through her backstory. And part of this contrast between her commanding nature and her hidden softer side is highlighted through fashion and costume design.

The series takes place in 1947, 15 years before both the novel and the movie’s story, so the costume design had to reflect the form-fitting, waist-fitted, more professional nature of the clothing at the time. But vivid, all-encompassing bold colors and flamboyant yet grounded accessories (hats, glasses, purses) were part of the creators’ contemporary touch in the series. These features are apparent dichotomies of the dichromatic, dull whites and reds contrasting with the movie’s grey mental asylum walls, showing a different side of Nurse Ratched, a more lively and young character who is still learning who she wants to be. And that also reflects Mildred’s portrayal by both actresses. While Louise Fletcher’s depiction of Ratched is emotionally subtle and artificial, and heavily controlled, showing nothing of her inner thoughts and conflicts, Sarah Paulson depicts a more emotionally conflicted Ratched, who frequently appears cold and unsympathetically oblivious like her future self, but is also often very vulnerable and, shockingly, kind.  


Nurse Ratched (who, spoiler alert, is not actually a nurse initially) can be seen in two distinct wardrobes categories throughout the series. The first is her blue-green nurse uniform, dubbed by the costume designers as “surgical green.” In itself, green appears several times in the whole series, worn by virtually every single main character. Costume designer Rebecca Guzzi explained that Murphy wanted green in its various shades to signify “violence, oppression, lust, envy, greed, and evil,” traits that permeate the story.

For Ratched and Nurse Bucket (the head nurse of the Lucia State Hospital where the story takes place), their surgical silky green uniform represents status, since all the other trainee and orderly hospital employers wear aqua blue to match with the idyllic coastal landscape around it. But Ratched’s nurse wardrobe (which also features the iconic war-time nurse cap) is not complete without her bold red lipstick. Ryan Murphy did not want red appearing in any garment, so blood could create the right contrast for a scene to be impactful, but he demanded Mildred’s lips to be red. Whenever she is wearing her monochromatic surgical green uniform, her lips pop out in a menacing manner, which gives more effect to the poise and intimidation of her speech when she is working at the Hospital.

Image (via)

Image (via)

The other category of Nurse Ratched’s wardrobes entails the clothing worn whenever she presents herself to other people in her off-duty hours. That is when the costume designers put all their knowledge, style, and creativity together. But it was not only them that had a hand in deciding her garment’s complexions. Sarah Paulson had a massive influence on building the fashionista side of her character. It may feel weird to imagine the Nurse Ratched from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest wearing a 1940s navy blue tilted fedora, bright emerald gloves, cat-eye sunglasses, a navy cape embroidered with an R, a dark green purse, navy pants, and a buttoned-up navy and green-edged vest. Or maybe picture her dressed in softer tones like pastel orange accessorizing with two pearl necklaces. But the show is bold and decides to interpret her past in their own way. Her sense of style is specified as coming from the fashion magazines she reads. Because she wants to accomplish her goals (I will not spoil what they are), she learns to adapt and dress the part.

Every single garment choice is thoroughly thought out by both the costume designers and Mildred herself, and that is why Sarah Paulson’s input was critical. Her navy blue and green look was explicitly designed to give her an air of a hero, as Guzzi says that “she's trying to be the perfect nurse and that she's, in her mind, trying to care for people in the way that she thinks is appropriate,” and yet it is dark and bright at the same time, which ends up making her look close to a godly figure, demanding respect. In the scene she wears those garbs, she tries to manipulate an injured person to comply with her, first appealing to his safety. And her pastel orange costume was designed to give her a professional, structured, tailored, and fancy look because she wears it while applying to work for the Lucia State Hospital.

Image (Via)

Image (Via)

Image (Via)

Image (Via)

However, Ratched is not the only character in the show that draws attention due to her garments (all of them do, but I must only pick one other). Amongst all the supporting characters, Sharon Stone’s Lenore Osgood dazzles with her ostentatious style. While every other person in the story is more austere due to WWII’s economic impact in the US, Osgood is a Greta Garbo inspired person, dripping in silk satins, furs, and diamonds here and there. Ryan Murphy even stated that he wanted the audience to think that she would have no qualms wearing jewelry in her bathtub (which she does). The colors Osgood is most attached to are whites and creams (she also wears green and red, which do reflect the meaning of these colors as stated before), which match with her hair and also represent the shiny nature of glamour that blinds the eyes and is unmistakable at any glance. With Lenore, it was all about the excessive, reflecting her style of life and, of course, the mental plot involving her and her son.


At the end of the day, if Ratched does not entice you because of its story, the director’s touch, or the portrayal of its actors, the production design and, more importantly, the costume design behind the series will undoubtedly amaze you. You can check out Ratched now on Netflix.


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I Want a Smarter Emily in Paris

By now, we’ve all been bombarded with ads for Netflix’s newest, indulgent, rom-com-esque series: Emily in Paris. The clichéd content, and many posts like it, are sent my way by any friend who’s had to save 4 different versions of my phone number in their contacts.

And I don’t blame them; it has all the makings to poke fun at your local Chicago-based French major who has seemingly been studying abroad for forever. The series has Darren Star behind it, famed creator of Sex and the City—and it shows. Emily in Paris is decidedly less risqué, but has the same level of maddeningly unrealistic cringe that young audiences no longer find tolerable.

I might be a bit envious of the ease with which Emily takes on Paris, but I think the time for a Darren Star-style show to hit the mainstream has passed. Sex and the City was a cultural phenomenon thanks to its sexually-liberated Samantha, its judgmental Charlotte, and the unapologetic Carrie and Miranda. The women of the show were flawed and while their lives in New York catered to a (very white) fantasy, the issues they dealt with still pushed the envelope for mainstream media at the time. Emily in Paris cannot say the same.

Emily beaming after telling the French they should really stop smoking. Image via.

Emily beaming after telling the French they should really stop smoking. Image via.

The show is cute, and I don’t hate it for being just that. Star’s intention behind it seems to be escapism, and many fans have defended its right to be as cheesy and dreamy as it wants to be. In a sense, it would be unreasonable to expect a cutesy plot about a 20-something marketing exec to give us a documentary-like image of Paris. But the problem with the series isn’t just its departure from reality. It’s just that this imaginary Paris is — quite simply — really freaking boring.

You don’t have to know the City of Lights to yawn at the prospect of an American girl prancing around a European city, bound to fall in love with a charming man whose language she’ll never learn. The American transplants I’ve met overseas, far from home and fiercely independent, have (usually) been so much more than that. What could Emily in Paris have been if we got a glimpse of real expat-struggles beyond the snooty French colleague?

What if Emily was constantly sweating on the metro, having to get a bank account before getting an apartment but needing an apartment before opening a bank account, or even left surviving on a bag of chips because she slept in past Sunday grocery closures? And what if she interacted with more than one black person? What if the clear lack of diversity in her office was addressed, or at the very least poked fun at? Paris is indeed one of the most diverse cities in Europe.

And what if Emily was, you know, not a wealthy white woman with a golden path to Paris laid out for her? The most interesting expats I’ve met are those who’ve moved abroad on their own accord. They’ve dealt firsthand with the discrimination and exclusivity that’s all too common in Parisian culture and still made strong communities for themselves in the city.

Judging you, Em. Image via.

Judging you, Em. Image via.

In a way, the casting of Lily Collins as Emily Cooper was perfect. Collins has long been compared to Audrey Hepburn, whose big brown eyes and delicate features made her the lead of Funny Face. Hepburn played that “all-American girl,” impishly working in a bookstore before being jetted off to Paris to live a life of luxury. Collins’s character represents much of the same as the 1950s (!) relic, which is exactly why it’s so underwhelming.

Sure, the series is a means for escape, conveniently unengaging for these times of high stress. But in a moment where many parts of our society are at a threshold, Emily in Paris could’ve taken steps to be as relevant, thought-provoking, and somehow-still-funny as shows like Insecure or I May Destroy You. Star had the chance to create, at the very least, a fresh version of the American in Paris storyline we know all too well. Regardless, the series is likely to be renewed by Netflix. Expats and dreamers alike can only hope that Darren Star will be bolder than ever in his second season, giving us the accessible Madame Cooper we truly need.

Cover image via.