Wardrobe Theory: The Powerful Fashion of Dishonored‘s Women
Dishonored was a game that I wanted to like more than I actually did. The world building, from the ground up, was incredible. It told me enough about the world without sending me into an exposition dump, and everything I saw and heard was in service to that. I felt like people lived in that city—I felt like I knew its districts and neighborhoods as well as I knew my own. Of course, the game didn’t ever really do anything with that expansive and wonderful world, nor did it do much with the political struggle it set up for itself. I could see each twist and turn before it happened, and ultimately it was just slightly disappointing.
But I’m excited for Dishonored 2, and there’s two reasons why. One is Emily Kaldwin. Two is more of those gorgeous clothes. Girl, they are to die.
What I really loved about Dishonored is that it set up a female-centric government without falling into sexist tropes. Jessamine Kaldwin wasn’t just a figurehead, but a political leader, and her murder, while still a fridging, was about politics and not sex. It was clear that the world of Dishonored wasn’t just a reimagining of European history—it was its own place, with its own history, one devoid of some of the same foibles that we have in our world. And the women get to wear pants.
It seems like nothing, but it was fascinating to me that Arkane Studios thought so much about the world they were creating that they even thought about the fashion. In a society where women are respected enough to rule the country, why not pants? Why not waistcoats and vests and cravats? Not only that, but they’re neither sexualized nor unfeminine. These aren’t just women in men’s clothing, or women in a sexy version of modern dress. I want to see the history of fashion in Dunwall. Where did they develop their own distinctly gendered, but unrestricted, sense of dress?
You see it in what Jessamine wears just before her murder—the high necked collar, the embellished buttons, the slightly masculine comb in her hair. She’s a woman, yes, but she’s in power here. And you can see it in the young Emily, who, frankly, looks like Little Lord Fauntleroy, but with only slightly more bows. She’s precious, she’s sweet, she’s innocent, but she is learning less about being seen and not heard and more about commanding respect as the future Empress of the Isles.