The dresses in ‘Phantom Thread’ are gorgeous, but not dazzling — and that’s the point.
In “Phantom Thread,” Daniel Day-Lewis plays an imperious and eccentric fashion designer named Reynolds Woodcock in 1950s London in the years after World War II. His character approaches fashion as a religion that requires silence and solitude. His various self-indulgences masquerade as near-sacraments. Day-Lewis’s character is not meant to represent any real designer, living or dead, but the ecclesiastical nature of his atelier takes inspiration from Cristobal Balenciaga and his personal quirks call to mind the fastidiousness of Karl Lagerfeld.

Woodcock’s designs, however, have a look all their own. They are gently beautiful guideposts. But they are not outre, distracting or referential. That is thanks to costume designer Mark Bridges.

Because this is a story that revolves around a designer’s creative and emotional impulses, one might presume the film would feature any number of extraordinary and memorable ensembles. But there are none. Which doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of gorgeous clothes in this film.

In a particular moment of exasperation and frustration, Woodcock laments to his sister about a horrible little word: chic. Woodcock spits it out with incredible disdain. The fashion world has gone in search of “chic,” he says, and satisfying that obsession has become his burden. But Woodcock has no interest in chasing chic and delivering it to his clients, because chic implies that something has been shaped by a fleeting moment or an ephemeral mood. It suggests an aesthetic that has been culturally vetted and agreed upon. Woodcock is aiming for lasting beauty.