In ‘Club Kid,’ Custom Clubwear & a Bootleg Björk T-Shirt Help Tell a Coming-of-Age Story

To design wardrobes authentic to the New York City queer nightlife community in “Club Kid”—Jordan Firstman’s coming-of-age story of a 30-something party promoter finding his path, and connecting with a son he never knew he had—costume designer Emily Costantino conducted on-the-ground research. “We would go to parties and take pictures of people,” says Costantino, who hit the downtown and Bushwick hotspots with the first-time director. “A lot of building out the world.”

Constantino’s prep work also included a bit of homework too. With Firstman, production designer Stephan Phelps, and cinematographer Adam Newport-Berra, she binged quintessential Big Apple movies, including John Cassavetes’filmography and William Friedkin’s 1980 gay crime thriller, “Cruising.” French New Wave filmmaker Éric Rohmer’s work influenced the A24 film’s “saturated” color palette, especially within the pulsating, kinetic club sequences. “We decided early on that we wanted to pop primaries in a way that felt very childlike to us,” says Costantino. The heart-wrenching divorce tearjerker Meryl Streep and Dustin Hoffman-starring “Kramer vs. Kramer” was also required watching. “We were looking at movies about fathers to build this overall visual tone of the movie,” says Costantino. “Paired with honest portrayals of the [LGBTQ+] community.”

Dress to Depress

“Club Kid” opens in 2016 with the monthly queer bacchanal that Peter (Firstman) throws with fellow club kid Sophie (Cara Delevingne). While kundling, bundling, or gundling—queer slang for being high on ketamine, cocaine, or GHB (or perhaps all of the above)—Peter hooks up with a British woman, Leonora (Paris Petitjean).

Fast forward a decade, a grizzled Peter goes through the motions—still staging the once-a-month party at the fictional Club Labor and dealing drugs to support his rent-stabilized Lower Manhattan apartment inherited from his mother. Out too late the night before, he throws a sloppy hoodie over his now-weathered tank top to meet Sophie for an investor meeting, where he promptly falls asleep mid-pitch.

“Obviously, he's dealing with a lot of self doubt. He’s depressed. There's stagnation and a lot of fear of his own potential … addiction,” says Costantino. “We wanted to get this sense of boyishness that he hasn't quite aged out of yet.” She also explains that Peter’s tank tops, oversize T-shirts, and long, slouchy board shorts reflect the lounge-y, day-to-early-morning “uniform” of the community’s club-goers, too.

Like Father, Like Son

Peter’s wardrobe also features an extensive collection of inappropriate slogan T-shirts. The morning after Leonora’s friend Edison (Kirby Howell-Baptiste) drops the bombshell and leaves Arlo (Reggie Absalom) with Peter, the 10-year-old pulls a “I love Björk and Bareback” bootleg T from his father’s closet. “But I like Björk,” says Arlo, with wide-eyed innocence when he’s told to take it off—also a sign that appreciation of moody, ’90s alternative music must be in the DNA.

Costantino explains that the t-shirt was scripted, but she, along with props, then needed to compose additional catchphrases, like “J’adore your hole,” for custom t-shirts telegraphing that Peter and his wardrobe need to grow up. “We just had a group thread and we’re sending ideas,” recalls Costantino.

As Peter commits to parental responsibilities and develops a close bond with Arlo, his colors brighten, and their wardrobes begin to merge. Plus, Arlo arrived with just a small suitcase, so dad has to shop for his mini-me. “We’d get a denim jacket for Peter, and then we'd get a smaller Arlo version,” says Costantino. “We were always trying to show the way that a father would maybe dress their son or a son would want to dress like their dad.”

Peter’s nightlife-dwelling found family also immediately embraces Arlo, who uncovers his innate talents behind the decks. Under his self-proclaimed moniker, DJ Nightshift, Arlo makes his debut at Club Labor in adorable matching red vintage Lee shorts and a zip-up track jacket. “It was DSQUARED2,” says Costantino. “Peter wore a lot of DSQUARED2, so we found the kid version.” The wunderkind DJ also emulates the adults around him—borrowing his chunky gold necklace from Peter’s friend Devon (Nigil Whyte) and wraparound sunglasses from another club-goer. “We were pulling pieces from the community,” says Costantino.

The Club Labor Family

Arlo’s clubbing outfit also fits right in with the neons and eclectic sporty-glam style of Club Labor mainstays, played by real-life queer clubland fixtures, Almi (Miss Benny), Saffron (Saturn Risin9), and Hana (Alaska Riley).

“Those were my favorite costumes to design,” says Costantino, who, along with Firstman, imagined the vivacious Almi would be the fashion designer of the trio. “Most of her looks were custom-built as if she were making her own clothes.” Costantino collaborated with New York-based Holly McClintock and Miss Claire Sullivan to custom-design most of Almi’s wardrobe, which also included pieces from local indie brands, like Vaquera.

Arlo’s DJ mentor Saffron hits the turntables in highlighter hues, bikini tops, and hooded mini-dresses. “We wanted her club looks to be playful and exciting,” says Costantino, who looked to Brooklyn-based Weed Slut, an Addison Rae favorite, for custom pieces. Her newsprint hoodie dress for DJ Nightshift’s debut is by East Village designer Sam Finger.

Sophie’s Spiral

In 2016, Peter and his best friend and business partner Sophie are in the same place—professionally and emotionally. Exhilarated, she commands the crowd in a stunning vintage black-feather bolero over a shorts and shirt set by inclusivity groundbreaker, Chromat, borrowed from Gabriel Held Vintage. “When we first meet her, it's her peak,” says Costantino, who took inspiration from nightlife luminaries and queer icons, Susanne Bartsch and Ladyfag, for Sophie, while Firstman looked to Delevigne, herself, for the character.

A decade later, Sophie makes her investor pitch in a key-and-zipper-detailed, structural gray power pantsuit by Alexander Wang, while Peter snoozes mid-meeting. “For Peter, Club Labor was more about friendship and community. It becomes a business for Sophie,” says Costantino. “Like she felt very alive in the beginning, and then the suiting strips that away.”

Peter finds newfound fulfillment in fatherhood and has less time for Sophie, who begins to spiral in her version of at-home leisure-wear: a vintage deconstructed T-shirt over a cami, gray Telfar sweatpants, and a chunky charm necklace from Gabriel Held. “Where she ends up, we wanted to show she's in the same place as Peter,” says Costantino. “They're both at this point in their lives where they have come to terms with parts of their self and identity that they maybe haven't looked at. Peter gets the ultimate mirror—his child—where she hasn't had that opportunity yet.”

2016 vs. 2026

Costume designing the ten-year time jump through clubwear also proved to be an interesting anthropological examination. “We felt like 2016 was a lot about self-expression and very free,” says Costantino, who scoured her vintage and archival sources and sourced directly from brands for vibrant color, exuberant materials, like velour, latex, PVC, and feather boas, and BDSM-referential harnesses and chains. “Even the brands that were very prominent at that time—Hood by Air. Opening Ceremony, American Apparel, and Chromat—all this PVC/latex stuff.” 

Whereas the 2026 club vibes seem to reflect the present-day cultural climate and perhaps generational differences—with a new wave of clubgoers packing the dance floors. “What we see as ‘hot’ is different,” says Costantino, who dressed the principal actors, but had the background revel in their own authentic clubwear. “Where in 2016, it was much more alive in performance, the feeling now is very stoic and more reserved. Not in a depressed way, but the way [people are] serving … mogging.” 

Costantino also observes an evolution in gender expression, comparing 2016’s explosion of feathers and glitter to today’s genderless crop-top and baggy-pant uniform. “In 2016, drag was big, where what was once considered just strictly ‘feminine’ or ‘masculine’ is far more fluid,” says Costantino. “[Everyone’s wearing] a lot of black and chunky jewelry. Sleek, hot cuts and silhouettes, but it's not overstated. Jordan would always joke and be like, ‘Now you're just striving to look cunty.’"