The best fashion film of the year is not that sequel starring Anne Hathaway and Meryl Streep. No, it’s a maximalist romp about worker revolution. It’s a Seussical runway with Tim Burton stop-motion moments and Black Panther Party politics. Boots Riley directed it, of course. I’m talking about I Love Boosters, which follows a ragtag crew of Oakland shoplifters — nay, entrepreneurs — who swipe clothes from designer boutiques and resell them at a discounted price.
At first, the boosters are just in it for money: Protagonist Corvette (Keke Palmer) is an aspiring fashion designer who is squatting in an abandoned fried-chicken shop and racking up debt. Her homegirl Sade (Naomi Ackie) is a single mom getting preyed upon by a multi-level-marketing company. Their other friend Mariah (Taylour Paige) wants to serve the community with few resources of her own. But then Christie Smith (Demi Moore), the CEO of Metro and Corvette’s designer hero, disses the boosters as “low-class urban bitches” and takes Corvette’s design without attribution. Suddenly, it’s an all-out class war.
The film makes it clear: The fashion bosses are the true thieves. As the boosters conduct targeted raids on Metro stores, they’re joined by unlikely accomplices: a Chinese garment worker named Jianhu (Poppy Liu) who’s teleported to Oakland via a top-secret machine and their former Metro co-worker Violeta (Eiza Gonzalez), a de facto union organizer with enough intellectual acumen to explain “dialectical materialism” on the fly. On their quest to take down Christie, the girls uncover a skin-crawling (almost literally) global conspiracy to oppress the working class, galvanize their fellow laborers to the streets, and overcome personal misunderstandings — all while serving looks.
The movie’s unapologetic messaging wouldn’t be half as potent without its genius set design and outfits. The latter comes from costume designer Shirley Kurata, who has styled celebrity clients like Billie Eilish and Tierra Whack and was nominated for a Best Costume Design Academy Award for her work on Everything Everywhere All at Once. Exiting the theater, I knew I had to speak to her.
How did you get recruited to this movie?
Our first AD, Milos, who I’ve worked with in the past, had worked on I’m a Virgo. I guess Boots had mentioned wanting to work with me. I’ve always thought Boots’s work was super creative and wild. So I was like, “Absolutely.” I didn’t even read the script.
How did he initially pitch the movie to you?
He had a whole visual board put together, along with music to listen to while reading the script. It was like what you’d hear in Looney Tunes. He even included stills showing ideas like using stop-motion — for example, a toy car moving across the screen. So he definitely had a strong visual plan, which was great.
Were there any key scenes that immediately registered when you read the script?
I’ve always loved a monochromatic set, so when he said each store would be entirely one color, I thought that was really exciting. I also loved the idea that the characters use disguises while they’re boosting. That part involved a lot of problem-solving — figuring out how we were actually going to shoot and execute those ideas.
There’s a tulle dress designed by Rodarte’s Kate and Laura Mulleavy, who I have a long relationship with, that expands and engulfs an entire room. Tulle felt like the best material — it could fill a space easily without costing a fortune. We used practical effects to make it look like the entire room was filled with it. There was also a look for Poppy Liu’s character, where her dress transforms into something made of grass, dirt, and leaves. We thought it would be funny if she started in a camouflage-style print, and then, during the transformation, it became literal — real moss, dirt, and leaves attached to the dress. I had a lot of fun with a glue gun putting that together.
Corvette (Keke Palmer), Sade (Naomi Ackie), and Mariah (Taylour Paige) inside a Metro store.
Photo: NEON
So after you read through the script, what did you do next? What was the first step?
We first cast a wide net and reached out to as many brands as we felt would be great to collaborate with or loan us pieces, since we had an indie budget. We wanted to see who was interested in collaborating or creating custom pieces.
One transformation look I forgot to mention was for Corvette — we wanted to go in a more punk direction. She had a plaid dress with spiked shoulders, and then the stripes disappear and it becomes three-dimensional. For that, I reached out to a designer named Solène Lescouët. She sourced a great plaid fabric that we could match with ribbons. She made two versions: one all black and one in plaid. For the transformation, we put Keke in the all-black version and sewed ribbons all over it, with pieces extending in different directions. We shot it in a practical way to create that strange, three-dimensional effect. So she ended up making two versions of the dress. The jumpsuits that Corvette designs were created by Philip Seastrom, who runs Big Bud Press.
Photo: NEON
As someone who has been working in fashion for a long time, what about the movie’s critique of the fashion industry resonates with you?
I really believe in workers’ rights and an even distribution of wealth. And what Christie does, stealing ideas from these budding designers, happens so often in the fashion industry. It’s important that we acknowledge the exploitation of people who aren’t part of the elite one percent, because there is power in numbers.
I was really intrigued by how Metro is both luxury but fast fashion — it feels very of the moment when all these designer houses are collaborating with Zara.
You could definitely see elements of fast fashion in the store itself and what they were selling. Then there was the high-end designer boutique — the shop where Mariah holds her breath and lightens her skin. Interestingly, you rarely see these high-end designers wearing their own clothes. They wear pieces that are expensive, but often quite utilitarian. and I wanted Demi’s character to reflect that. At the same time, because she lives in this unusual, slanted apartment, I wanted her look to feel a bit quirky, with some avant-garde elements.
I sent Demi some reference images and suggested a palette that was predominantly black, with hints of gray and white. She was in London at the time doing press for The Substance, and she told me, “I decided to do a little shopping.” She came back with some incredible pieces — things reminiscent of Comme des Garçons, including a three-sleeved jacket, as well as some Balenciaga items.
I also spent time looking through Instagram accounts that highlight up-and-coming designers and recent fashion graduates. That’s actually how I discovered one designer, Victoria Yujin Kwon — through Instagram — and she ended up creating the gray short suit.
Oh my God. I was obsessed with that one.
Leeann Huang makes a lot of lenticular fashion, and she made this blouse with a built-in tie that Demi’s wearing at the fashion show. And we always had the black turtleneck as sort of the base layer for all her look.
It seems like Christie is somewhat inspired by Elizabeth Holmes. Was there anyone else that you and Demi or you and Boots kind of discussed as aesthetic inspiration?
We talked about female designers like Phoebe Philo and Rei Kawakubo, but then also just making our own world. Demi already owned the glasses.
It seemed like you worked with a lot of younger and newer designers. Was that intentional, and how did you find them?
I think Instagram’s helpful. I also love following fashion shows from Central Saint Martins and fashion schools because they’re the future. There were quite a few where I was like, “Oh, I love this piece. Can we use it?”
Photo: NEON
How were you thinking of Corvette as a character?
The two scripted designs were her jumpsuit and her turquoise dress. And the only real direction for the turquoise dress was that she was inspired by her parents’ Oldsmobile. So I was like, It’s gotta have some sort of car-upholstery vibe to it, right? I used vinyl upholstery fabric and wanted that sort of tufting that you see in ’80s old cars. I also wanted it to seem believable, homespun but really creative. In her own personal wardrobe, I thought it’d be cool if she’s wearing a top made out of athletic tube socks. There’s another scene where she’s wearing this choker and it was made out of — it’s like if you got leather and covered a faucet.
What’s the significance of turquoise? It reminded me of The Devil Wears Prada and that whole conversation about the cerulean sweater.
That was Boots’s thing, but I don’t even know if he was even aware of that conversation. Turquoise is funny because it’s a really difficult color to find — it could easily veer into being too green or too blue. Christie is like, “It’s aquamarine,” but turquoise isn’t aquamarine. They’re different shades.
When you traditionally think of a socialist or workers-rights film, it usually has a somber palette and a sense of seriousness. Did that factor into the styling conversation — wanting to move away from that?
I already knew Boots’s world from watching Sorry to Bother You and I’m a Virgo. It was clear this wasn’t going to be a traditionally serious or straightforward film. He really leans into the surreal and the fantastical.
So I felt like the colors and the fashion needed to be heightened. Even the way he presents himself, with his signature tall hat, gave me a sense of the visual language he gravitates toward. I knew there would be unconventional storytelling choices, like stop-motion, miniatures, and lots of practical effects.
How did you choose what the garment workers wear?
We had specific colors already set for the stores, like yellow, green, red, and blue. So I thought, Okay, what does that leave us with?
I wanted some sort of uniform, and in researching garment factory workers, some of them wore these lab-coat-style or worker coats with little caps. When I looked into what colors were available, it was mostly white, light blue, or pink. I felt like pink would be really cool because it would set this world apart from the others we created.
The film is also very explicit about the racism within the fashion industry — how styles are first labeled as “ghetto” and then later absorbed into high fashion. Corvette’s large hoop earrings nod to that.
Being in Atlanta influenced me a lot — just shopping there, especially in wig shops. It’s interesting. Many of these shops are Korean-owned, and they carry a lot of gold jewelry too, especially big hoop earrings.
Even though the film is set in Oakland, I felt there would be similar spaces. So for me, it wasn’t about making a statement as much as reflecting something authentic and recognizable within that world.
Shirley Kurata with director Boots Riley.
Photo: Shirley Kurata/NEON
It’s a big moment for fashion movies right now. What are some of your favorite fashion films?
There are so many. Who Are You, Polly Maggoo? is one. I know Michel Gondry was mentioned as a reference. His work isn’t always labeled as a fashion film, but there’s something incredibly creative about it. A lot of it is done practically — even his music videos, with all the handmade elements. Others include Mahogany, Funny Face, Eyes of Laura Mars, What a Way to Go!, and Paris Is Burning.
Have you seen The Devil Wears Prada 2?
I have a text chain with my friends to schedule when we’re going to see it, but I haven’t yet. Have you?
I don’t know if I want to watch it, to be honest. There are too many brand integrations.
I had just met and worked with Anna Wintour for the first time on Vogue World, which was Hollywood-themed. That experience was really interesting and eye-opening for me in terms of how she works.
When she comes in, she’s very direct. Not mean, but very decisive — exactly what you’d expect. She can immediately look at something and say, “That’s not right. This dress shouldn’t be brown. It should be blue,” and make very specific calls like that. What’s interesting is that when you step back and really think about it, she’s almost always right.
If you had your say, how would you want the fashion industry to look like in the future?
I definitely think that there should be more support for smaller designers. More transparency with how things are made. Do we need to make so many clothes? Do we need seasons at all — like winter, resort, and all that? We are one of the biggest polluters when it comes to waste, so addressing that — but in an honest way — is important. We also need to understand that if you want quality and something made with ethical intentions, you will most likely have to spend more money. People sometimes say, “I don’t understand why this costs $400,” but if you had to make something from scratch, it does cost a lot from start to finish.
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