The Scholar vs. The Sociologist
The most fundamental difference lies in research. For period costume designers, the job begins in a library, a museum, or a deep dive into archival photographs. Their task is to resurrect a bygone era, understanding not just the silhouette of a dress
but the very construction, from the stitching to the undergarments that created that shape. They become historians, studying paintings and texts to decode the visual language of a specific time and place. This process is about world-building; the costumes must transport the audience to a time they've never lived in. Shows like “The Gilded Age” or “Bridgerton,” both recent Emmy contenders, live and die by this historical foundation, even when taking creative liberties. In contrast, the contemporary costume designer acts more like a sociologist or a psychologist. Their research happens on city streets, on social media, and in high-end boutiques. They aren't building a lost world; they are reflecting and interpreting the world we live in now. The key question isn't, “What would people have worn?” but rather, “What would this specific character wear today to communicate their personality, status, and emotional state?” It's a deep dive into character psychology, expressed through brands, fits, and styles.
Building from Scratch vs. The Art of the Hunt
Sourcing and creation present another major divergence. Period productions often require designers to “build” the majority of their wardrobes from scratch. The specific fabrics, patterns, and construction techniques of the 1880s or 1960s simply aren't available off the rack. This involves an army of cutters, sewers, and craftspeople to create dozens or even hundreds of unique garments. For a designer, it’s a massive manufacturing undertaking that requires deep knowledge of historical garment construction. While contemporary designers also create custom pieces, a significant portion of their job involves hunting, gathering, and curating. This is the art of shopping—knowing which luxury brand conveys old money, which streetwear label screams aspiring artist, and where to find the perfect, nondescript t-shirt that says everything about a character without saying a word. Shows nominated for Outstanding Contemporary Costumes, like “Hacks” or “Only Murders in the Building,” excel at this. Their designers' genius lies in pulling together a wardrobe that feels completely authentic to the character, a process that requires a different but equally demanding set of skills in sourcing and styling.
Defining a World vs. Defining a Person
Ultimately, the storytelling function of the costumes differs in scale. Period costumes are tasked with establishing the entire world for the viewer. The color palette, the silhouettes, and the textures all work together to define the era's rules, social strata, and mood before a single line of dialogue is spoken. A frayed collar or a luxurious silk communicates volumes about the world's harshness or opulence. In contemporary design, the world is already understood by the audience; we live in it. Therefore, the costumes can focus entirely on defining the person. Every choice is a laser-focused piece of character development. Think of the contrast between the effortless cool of Selena Gomez's character in “Only Murders in the Building” and the curated, slightly theatrical glamour of Jean Smart's Deborah Vance in “Hacks.” The audience instantly gets who these people are, what they value, and how they see themselves, all through clothes that exist in our modern world.
The Challenge of Perception
At the Emmys, there's a perception that period and fantasy costumes are inherently more impressive. The sheer scale and visible artistry of a ballroom full of handmade gowns or an intricate suit of armor often command more obvious awe than a perfectly sourced contemporary outfit. However, industry insiders and designers argue that contemporary work is often misunderstood. Making a character's wardrobe feel authentic and invisible—as if the character chose the clothes themselves—is an art form that requires incredible subtlety and precision. The challenge isn't to wow the audience with unfamiliar silhouettes, but to use familiar clothing to tell a deeper story. Both disciplines require a master's eye, but one builds a believable past while the other reveals the soul of a person in the present.
