“Something’s Different About the Place”
Costume Design on Season Seven of Gilmore Girls
Originally published on Letterdrop 12/1/2022
In every post on Gilmore Girls, I’ve recommended five episodes for the next season: episodes that are worth a rewatch for not only their costumes but also their story lines. These episodes shaped my understanding of the series, its characters, their relationships: from the Gilmores’ trip to Yale in season three to Rory’s dropout in season six, from Trix’s first visit in season one to her funeral in season four.
I’ll be honest—very few episodes of season seven felt essential.
For those who aren’t familiar, the show’s creator, Amy Sherman-Palladino, and her husband, Dan Palladino, left Gilmore Girls at the end of season six, burned out after working “seven days a week for . . . six years” (EW). The Sherman-Palladinos wanted more staff, including more writers—who, ironically, had to be hired after they left.
The transition—or lack thereof—shows, and painfully: Season seven is missing the previous seasons’ spark. The banter often feels forced, the story lines repetitive. Richard is hospitalized for heart problems—see season one! Rory must pick herself up after career failure—see seasons five and six! The worst repeat is, unfortunately, the longest: Chris and Lorelai sleep together—see seasons one and two!—then try to make their relationship work long-term.
And yet, the costume design in season seven is some of the most interesting in the series, with some clever callbacks to previous seasons—thanks, likely, to the steady presence of costume designer Brenda Maben.
Luke in 7.1
Luke, again, in 7.1
Take, for example, Luke’s blue baseball cap—a gift from Lorelai in season one and surely the longest-running clothing item in the series. (The costume department had “[at] least 20 blue caps on hand for Luke at all times” (Fashionista).) Throughout the season opener, Luke wears all blue, down to the cap—Lorelai’s color. He desperately wants to repair their relationship, but the damage is already done. As Lorelai tells him in the episode’s final scene, she slept with Christopher.
Ch-ch-ch-changes (7.3)
By episode three, Luke is wearing a new cap: this time in black with no adjustable strap. Both the color and style give a different feel to Luke’s face: the color more mournful, the style more closed-off. Star Hollow’s resident gossips, Miss Patty and Babette, speculate on what’s changed in the diner. “I’m telling you, something’s different about the place,” says Babette. The ceilings? The curly fries? The chairs?
“I didn’t change a damn thing,” Luke replies, his black cap firmly on his head. Only Rory seems to notice the new hat, and only to her does Luke admit, offhandedly, that “things change.” The hat almost feels like a symbol of the season itself: The show, the town, the diner may look the same, but there’s something a little off—a little sad—about it all.
Lorelai and Charlotte (7.3)
The Gilmore family portrait, as shown in 1.1
That same episode, Lorelai must tell her parents about her breakup with Luke. But of course, that Friday Night Dinner, Emily has invited a guest: Charlotte Courtwright, one of her cotillion students. In her black-and-white dress, Charlotte would fit perfectly into the Gilmore family portrait.
One of these things . . . (7.3)
No wonder: She’s exactly the kind of girl Emily wanted Little Lorelai to be. Charlotte studiously absorbs Emily’s teachings and meekly takes her criticisms, then brushes off Lorelai’s warnings with a giggle. In her bright red dress, Lorelai stands apart from Charlotte and the rest of the Gilmores. She expects to be the focal point, the target of her parents’ attack, and is surprised when they breeze past her breakup news.
Emily’s cotillion class: note the matching white stockings and black Mary Janes (7.3)
Caroline is in the green dress, if you can’t tell (7.3).
When Emily brings her cotillion students to tea at the inn, Lorelai quickly identifies the Little Lorelai of the group: Caroline. Like Lorelai, Caroline has no interest in decorum and distance. She pulls her white gloves off with her teeth, shoves whole scones into her mouth. To cotillion, the other girls wear white Mary Janes with their poofy dresses; Caroline wears pink zebra Converse. “She’d probably rather be home, in jeans, climbing a tree,” observes Lorelai.
Michel and his reluctant date, Lorelai (7.3)
Lorelai herself is wearing a long white-lace dress—the significance of which becomes obvious when she arrives home and finds Chris in her kitchen. He and Rory went out for dinner that evening.
Get a life, Chris (7.3).
After their night together, Lorelai didn’t want something more, but Chris did. He still does: Before he leaves, he tells Lorelai they’re “right” together, and he’ll wait forever for her to agree. In his dark blazer and white button-down, Chris looks almost groom-like; Lorelai, bride-like in her white dress.
I mean, that corsage is almost as big as a bridal bouquet (7.3).
That night, Lorelai, still in white, calls Chris. She’s finally doing what her parents always wanted her to do: marry Christopher. Maybe, in her white dress, she fits into the portrait after all.
Lorelai and Chris (7.3)
Emily and Richard (7.3)
Lorelai and Chris date for the next few episodes, even attending Yale Parents’ Weekend together (7.6). There, they learn that Emily and Richard have pretended to be Rory’s parents for the last three parents’ weekends. And to be fair, they’ve been more present for Rory than Chris. Aside from footing the Yale tuition bill for the past year, he has had very little involvement in Rory’s education. Just take in their outfits together: everyone in Yale blue except Christopher.
In truth, Chris has always been much more interested in being Lorelai’s husband than Rory’s father. In episode seven, Lorelai and Chris take his daughter, Gigi, to meet her mother in Paris. By the time they return to Stars Hollow, they’re married. Lorelai finally gets her elopement, but it’s with the wrong man.
Who is . . . (7.7)
. . . this sad woman . . . (7.6)
. . . and where is Lorelai (7.4)?
Her clothes, too, are all wrong: Gone are the bright colors and funky prints that Lorelai favored in previous seasons. In their place, almost all dark colors and solids—brown, navy, and black. Lorelai isn’t just dressing with less fun or joy—she’s dressing more like Christopher, in his simple, solid or striped button-downs, sweaters, and jeans. Luke is far from an adventurous dresser, but at least his flannels have a consistent pattern, sometimes even a poppy color. Lorelai’s new wardrobe feels like a conscious pivot from him, from her old life.
Chris and Lorelai (7.9)
Stars Hollow struggles to accept Chris and Lorelai as a married couple, even as they stroll the town’s streets in complementary coats (7.9): Lorelai again in bride white, and Chris in groom black. The town expected Lorelai to marry Luke, and they’re wary of an outsider like Christopher, who doesn’t understand their provincial life.
Hoping to rehab Chris’s image, Lorelai sets him up with Jackson, Sookie’s husband and a well-respected townie. The two guys will go for a drink at the town bar—to see and be seen by all the locals.
Chris, pre–outfit change (7.9)
Lorelai rejects Chris’s initial outfit, declaring his black button-down, black coat, and dark-wash jeans “very Joaquin Pheonix at the Oscars”—the opposite of the approachable small-town guy that she wants him to look like. That guy doesn’t wear fitted shirts or tuck them into his tight jeans or put lots of product in his hair. He’s a farmer, like Jackson, in fisherman beanies and plaid coats. Or maybe he’s a diner owner, in baseball caps and roomy flannels.
(As in most Gilmore Girls episodes, the homophobia is strong here; I’m honestly shocked the word “metrosexual” wasn’t thrown about.)
Just a couple of bros being bros (7.9)
Chris changes into a gray polo shirt and looser jeans, then heads off to the bar. He may not be quite as casual as Jackson, in his nubby gray sweater, but the two men come to an understanding: Chris loves Lorelai, and he’s committed to making their marriage work.
She’s back (7.10)!
She found the scarf drawer (7.12)!
And the ugly sweater drawer (7.11)!
At least for a couple episodes! As Chris and Lorelai’s marriage starts to break down, her wardrobe starts to wake up: back come the fun colors and patterns of earlier seasons.
Lorelai in 7.11
Lorelai in 7.12
In episode eleven, Lorelai agrees to write a character reference for Luke, who’s trying to gain partial custody of his daughter, April. (More on that later!) She struggles to write the letter, but when she finally mails it, she’s wearing a black-and-white plaid coat—a little wink at Luke’s favorite pattern. She wears the coat again in episode twelve, in which Chris finds a copy of the reference and jealously declares it a “love letter.”
At the end of the episode, Richard is hospitalized for a heart attack. Everyone—Emily, Lorelai, Rory, Logan, even Luke—mobilizes to care for him. Everyone except Chris, who is late to the hospital and petulant when he finds Luke delivering dinner to the Gilmores. Nature has healed: Luke is back to being the “Mr. Reliable” of seasons past, while Chris has returned to his unreliable ways.
Sookie and Lorelai (7.14)
Lorelai in 7.14
The next episode, Lorelai arranges a wake for Michel’s beloved dog and mourns the death of her marriage. Her first black dress has a glimmer of hope—a trim of warm florals—but the second is simple, solid—decided. In this dress, she finally admits to Chris that their marriage isn’t right, and the problem isn’t just her feelings for Luke.
Still, Lorelai isn’t the only Gilmore struggling with her relationship this season; Rory and Emily respectively reckon with their partner after a setback: Rory with Logan after a bad business deal, and Emily with Richard after his open-heart surgery.
Rory, Olivia, and Lucy (7.4)
At the end of season six, Logan was shipped off to London and his long-awaited role in the Huntzberger empire, and Rory remained in his New Haven apartment. Without Logan and his Life and Death Brigade buds, Rory makes her own friends: an art major, Olivia, and a theater major, Lucy (7.4). Each has their own funky, individualistic style: Olivia favors utilitarian pieces, usually in shades of gray, while Lucy chooses printed baby-doll dresses and jumpers. (The theme of Lucy’s birthday party is 2002, which is so prescient of her.)
More questions than answers (7.4)
Neither Olivia nor Lucy can believe Logan’s palatial apartment, with its suit of armor and snowshoes as decoration. They’re the fresh eyes to a view Rory has long adjusted to, a window back to her college life before Logan. Rory is surprised to find Lucy is dating a familiar face, Marty, when it should be no surprise at all: Rory and Marty were good friends during their freshman and sophomore years, until her relationship with Logan drove them apart. When they meet again, through Lucy, Marty pretends he’s never met Rory (7.7). It’s almost as if Rory is being denied her past, her roots, through Marty’s lie. She once defended Marty against Logan’s classist behavior (5.3); now, Logan claims, she’s just like him and his wealthy peers (7.8).
Rory in 7.10
Rory in 7.17
Rory in 7.12
And so, as the season continues, Rory brings back old pieces, last seen in her early college years: among them, a brown-and-orange argyle sweater from 5.4, a burgundy turtleneck from 5.12, and a light blue turtleneck sweater from 5.10.
Lorelai and Rory (7.11)
When she’s home for the holidays in episode 7.11, she wears a brown parka very similar to one from her high school years. These referential pieces both feel like tributes to this old Rory, the Rory who hadn’t yet become a part of Logan’s world, and evidence that she never quite has been. She may have a privileged education, but she can’t afford to buy a new wardrobe every school year, and she certainly can’t afford to drop millions of dollars on an internet start-up gone bad, as Logan does. (He describes it as “invitation-only Myspace,” which just sounds like the worst thing.)
Richard and Emily (7.15)
While Logan languishes over his bad deal, Richard struggles with his life after surgery: all heart-healthy fish dinners and mocktails. He comforts himself with taped golf matches and his putting green, and trades his business suits for bathrobes and tracksuits. For the Gilmores, the robe and the tracksuit have long been symbols of impropriety: think of the robes Emily and Richard donned after Trix died in season four, or the purple tracksuit Trix’s paramour wore in season three. (Emily even wore one to the hospital in episode 7.13—she’d rushed over from the country club.)
Pleased as punch (7.17)!
Emily doesn’t know what to do with this new “man of leisure” (7.17), but Lorelai deflects, as usual, with a joke: “You having lunch with Tony Soprano?” she asks a tracksuited Richard. And yet, there’s a grain of truth to Lorelai’s Sopranos reference. For Richard and Emily, departures from their usual fashion are always about departures from a certain kind of wealth and whiteness. In season three, Emily compared Trix’s paramour to a “bookie”; a mob boss likely wasn’t far off in her mind.
In episode seventeen, Lorelai’s divorce from Chris, Rory’s falling-out with Logan, and Emily’s tense mood with Richard all converge for a road trip: each Gilmore girl desperate to get away from the immature boy in their life. They drive down to North Carolina, Rory and Lorelai planning to attend a wedding, and Emily to indulge in a spa.
Rory and Lorelai (7.17)
Emily in 7.17
Mia, Lorelai’s former employer and surrogate mother, is getting married, and Rory and Lorelai are thrilled to celebrate in their bright printed dresses. When Emily is roped into attending, she complains that she has nothing appropriate for a wedding, then shows up in a beaded black suit—certainly fancy but not celebratory. Rory and Lorelai’s relationship with Mia has always been a point of pain for Emily, going back to her first meeting with Mia in season two.
First Mia (2.8)
Second Mia aka Chaos Mia (7.17)
As you can likely tell from the screenshots above, Mia was recast for season seven with an actress a decade younger than the original actress. The first Mia was closer in age and style to Emily—chic coat and dress sets and simple gold jewelry. This second Mia looks closer in age and style to Lorelai, in her pale blue dress, cream brocade jacket, and statement necklace. Indeed, I can’t imagine the first Mia inviting Emily to her wedding; she would’ve known, and respected, that such an occasion would be hard for Emily. This second Mia knows and invited Emily anyway, all so she can deliver the same lesson that Lorelai has learned throughout the series: Emily was heartbroken to “lose” teenage Lorelai. After all, Lorelai’s black argyle dress isn’t tying her to Mia—it’s tying her to Emily in her black suit.
As the Gilmores settle back in Connecticut, Richard returns to full health, Logan resolves his business mistakes, and Lorelai repairs her relationship—but thank god, with Luke.
Notice how Luke’s initial black cap was exchanged for one with a more open front (7.8).
Luke has spent the season focused on his daughter, April. When Anna must care for her sick mother in New Mexico, April moves in with Luke. Suddenly, he’s dealing with the day-to-day life of raising a child; the hard, scary moments of parenting, instead of just the fun ones. In episode eight, he takes April to the hospital for appendicitis. Her striped sweater calls back to 6.9, when April proved Luke’s paternity for her science fair project. In the year since, Luke has become a real father to April, something far greater than genetic material.
After Anna moves April to New Mexico, Luke fights for—and wins—partial custody. In a season of bad story lines, this is one of the worst, in part because it sets fire to Anna’s characterization (why would a woman who was so firm about consistency in her child’s life uproot her completely?), and in part because it veers a little too close to men’s rights activism for my tastes.
Lorelai, Luke, and a hay bale maze (7.18)
By episode eighteen, Lorelai and Luke meet in the middle of Stars Hollow’s hay bale maze—because of course they do. There, they finally apologize to each other: Lorelai for sleeping with Christopher, Luke for not taking Lorelai’s help with April. Lorelai is wearing a brown cardigan, the color shared with Luke’s brown flannel. But more importantly, she’s wearing a plaid shirt: a nod not just to the hay bale maze but to her connection with Luke. He helps her find her way out of the maze—literally but also, it seems, emotionally.
And Lorelai’s in blue and gray, too (7.20)
Two episodes later, Luke is wearing Lorelai’s blue cap again, and Lorelai wonders how she should reciprocate. She “got rid of all [her] Luke-related stuff”—except for the feelings. At a town karaoke night, she plans to serenade Rory with a drunken rendition of “I Will Always Love You,” but when Luke enters the room, her attention quickly turns to him.
Lorelai in 7.20
Whelp, there’s her reciprocal gesture, and of course, it’s in blue.
With graduation fast approaching, Rory is searching for her path post-college. She’s rejected from her dream job—a fellowship at The New York Times—while Logan accepts a position in Palo Alto at an “emerging internet company” (7.20). He wants Rory to come with him—not as his girlfriend but as his fiancée.
Chris and Lorelai (7.21)
Richard and Emily (7.21)
Even the ring box is blue (7.21)
The best time to propose? At a graduation party thrown by her grandparents, of course (7.21)! Logan stands alone in Gilmore blue, while the real Gilmores—and even Chris—wear black, gold, and yellow. Logan thinks he’s doing what Rory wants, he thinks she’ll say yes—he even got a horse-drawn carriage, damn it!
Rory asks for time to consider, then returns the ring to Logan at her graduation. She wants to go back to dating long-distance, but Logan doesn’t want to go back. At a standstill, they break up.
Rory in 7.21
The Gilmores at graduation (7.21)
While Rory wears her black cap and gown to graduation, Lorelai wears a bright pink wrap dress—as Richard says, it’s as much Lorelai’s day as Rory’s. Chris, Emily, and Richard surround Lorelai in Gilmore—and, for that matter, Yale—blue.
Lorelai and Rory think they’ll have the summer together, but then Rory gets a surprise job offer: She’ll be following Barack Obama on the campaign trail. Stars Hollow quickly plans a surprise goodbye party, and when the weather predictions turn to rain, Luke stays up all night sewing a tent to cover the town green (7.22). It’s this gesture that finally pushes Lorelai to try again with Luke. As always, the real romance, the real heart, of the show comes not from the big, sweeping gestures—proposals with a thousand yellow daisies or horse-drawn carriages—but from the small, deliberate ones, from being there when someone you love needs you, from following where they lead.
Oh boy, I’m losing it.
Rory in 7.22
Lorelai in 7.22
Luke opens the diner early for the Gilmore girls’ last breakfast together. Rory is wearing a red blouse—perhaps one she mentioned earlier this season, that she was planning to wear for her New York Times ID photo, albeit with a suit. Her future is a little different than she expected, but she’s excited for what it holds.
Lorelai, naturally, is wearing a blue top. Her necklace—a sparkly pendant—is a recent present from Luke; the diamonds on its chain echo her familiar diamond studs. “[The necklace] suits you,” says Rory—and it does. Altogether, the scene calls back not just to the first scene of the pilot—Rory and Lorelai eating at Luke’s together—but to the early years of the series, when blue was Lorelai’s color, and red was Rory’s. This season certainly stumbled along its way, but in the end, it came right back to its center.
And that’s all!
Well, not quite. Because when I said there were lousy story lines this season, I was thinking of a couple more: Lane’s and Sookie’s unplanned pregnancies. Lane gets pregnant after having a bad first time on her honeymoon, and Sookie after Jackson lies about getting a vasectomy. (Granted, Sookie pressured Jackson to get a vasectomy following the birth of their second child, but one violation of bodily autonomy does not another one make!)
Melissa McCarthy was pregnant during filming, so perhaps the writers felt stuck between a pregnancy plot and Sookie standing behind a kitchen island all season. But then—why twist the story into Jackson lying about his vasectomy? Vasectomies are fallible. And why punish Lane—a woman who’s only just started having sex—with an unwanted pregnancy? Sookie and Lane are trapped in the same plot—and, appropriately enough, the same costume design.
Lorelai and Lane (7.16)
Let’s talk, first, about Lane. The more visible her pregnancy becomes, the more conservatively she dresses: turtlenecks layered under voluminous tunics, no skin visible except her face and hands. Now, Lane has always been a more modest dresser—thanks, in part, to her Seventh-day Adventist upbringing—but never this modest. In fact, Lane shows the most skin (sleeveless Ts, kilts, fishnet tops) when she’s performing with her band—the times, it seems, when she feels most joyous and free.
Lane in 7.17
Lane doesn’t feel so free this season: She can’t play the drums or walk down the street without stares because her baby bump is so large. She can’t eat what she wants because Mrs. Kim and Zach monitor her every choice. She’s reverting to her childhood, a double life of a conservative outside and a secretive, forbidden inside—candy bars between the couch cushions.
Lane’s conservative maternity wear feels like a short-term case study of a long-term issue: When faced with a body that isn’t thin or conventionally proportioned, the show’s impetus is to cover it (or make a joke of it).
Hell, if you watch the season seven featurette “Gilmore Fashionistas,” you’ll hear costume designer Brenda Maben comment on the styles Lauren Graham’s “fantastic body” (read: thin body) can wear. That’s the water we were all swimming in—are still swimming in, as the return of aughts fashion shows. If you read fashion magazines circa 2007, you already know the toxic advice: Thin could wear anything; fat needed to be minimized and disguised with long sleeves and cinched waists and absolutely no horizontal stripes.
Now, I found little discussion of Sookie’s costume design in my research—nothing from Maben, only a quick tour of the costume closet from McCarthy in season five. In the latter, McCarthy spends little time on her own wardrobe, save for a goofy turkey scarf (5.13) that she loves.
The aforementioned turkey scarf (5.13)
For this reason, I can’t say definitively why Sookie is more covered and layered than the other, thinner characters, especially as the seasons progress. (God help us, so many pants under skirts.) Perhaps the costume department thought more revealing styles were only for characters with “fantastic bodies.” Perhaps McCarthy requested more modest outfits. (As a fashion designer herself, she’s spoken about her penchant for sleeves.)
Let’s just say Lorelai never wore jeans under a skirt (3.22).
Perhaps a combination of the two, with a dash of access: I doubt the designers worn by Lorelai and Rory were making their clothes in plus sizes—or for that matter, maternity sizes. Lane’s and Sookie’s story lines feel cut from the same cloth this season because, in part, they are—tired storytelling that reduces a woman to her body.
(For more examples of thoughtless costume choices for Sookie, I suggest checking out the newsletter Gilmore Women. One egregious instance: Sookie wearing a pashmina while the other characters wear, you know, winter coats (1.12).)
Favorite Line of Season Seven
Every issue, I’ve provided my favorite line(s) from that season. Despite the lack of good quotes in season seven, Michel always delivers, this time in episode twelve:
Michel: (to Luke) I see your sense of style has not changed. I’ve often wondered, does someone in your family own a flannel company?
Thank you all so much for seeing through this series with me! I’ve appreciated every message I’ve received (and you’re always welcome to reply directly to this email if you’d prefer not to comment). I love publishing this newsletter, and I’m thrilled that others enjoy it, too. But, after two years of back-to-back researching, rewatching, and writing, I’m pretty worn-out. I want this newsletter to continue to be a source of fun for me, and not a responsibility, so I’ve decided to take a needed break—and some time to watch shows I’m not analyzing! I’m not setting a new subject or a return date at the moment, but it’ll likely be sometime in 2023. I’ll keep you updated before then.
xoxo Chrisinda
