In Apple TV’s “Lucky,” the titular second-generation grifter (Anya Taylor-Joy) finds herself on the run from underworld power broker Priscilla (Annette Bening)—who also happens to be her mother-in-law. Despite their differences of opinion over what to do with a stolen $10 million and how husband/son Cary (Drew Starkey) should spend his future, the women share one thing in common: They use clothing as a weapon, crafting their identities to achieve their goals—and survive.

Costume designer Christine Wada says showrunners Jonathan Tropper and Cassie Pappas, along with director Jonathan van Tulleken, envisioned a “stylized, but real” aesthetic. They drew inspiration from the work of street photographers, including Nan Goldin’s intimate, documentary-style portraits of LGBTQ+ communities in the 1980s. “That language really gave the production an anchor point that really, really stayed through the show,” says the two-time Emmy-nominated costume designer.

The series opens with a gauzy, almost reverie-like flashback of Lucky and Cary on the roof of Caesars Palace, ready to live out their dreams. Lucky looks out over the Las Vegas skyline in a fluted-sleeve sequin minidress, in a gossamer-sheer champagne shade, with a low-slung belt and rugged Frye boots. The world is her oyster—for now. “I looked at what felt right for that moment—cinematically, movement-wise—and also to give a hint of a more rock-and-roll emo vibe. There's a lot of inspiration from Kate Moss at Glastonbury there,” says Wada, who deconstructed and rebuilt a Reformation dress. “But really, I was thinking primarily about the story for the opening. When the lights go on at the bar at 4 a.m., what will look the most sad?”

Looking sad was the goal because, as we soon learn, Cary has absconded with their nest egg. Lucky escapes an FBI raid and goes on the run in the hoodie he left behind (thanks, Cary) and her most nondescript pair of jeans. Trained since childhood by her con-man father Jonathan (Timothy Olyphant), she relies on her razor-sharp instincts—and her ability to disappear into new identities through clothing—to evade the feds and Priscilla’s henchmen while hunting down Cary and her future. “If you get into Lucky's backstory, she's always been reinventing herself from the get-go because her father has guided her along that path,” says Wada.

First, Lucky swipes a Caesar’s Palace satin bomber jacket from an employee coat rack, then after some very harrowing near misses, finds herself at a family’s house in the desert. The matriarch Sylvia (Alana Ubach) offers Lucky her pick from the donation bin collected for her young granddaughters. Lucky flees again in a pink “cancer sucks” baby t-shirt, low-slung, skater-grrl cargoes, and a workwear jacket tied around her waist—dressed to fit seamlessly into her next environment.

“She looked like that grungy babysitter girl,” says Wada. Landing in Malibu, Lucky, again, thinks on her feet and deftly talks her way into a posh children’s birthday party posing as hired help. The T-shirt also represented a moment of costume kismet—bridging Lucky’s intuition with Taylor-Joy’s own creative instincts. “I've had that T-shirt in my kit for maybe like 10 years and Anya saw it and made a beeline to it immediately,” Wada recalls. “So it was almost method acting because it really was found in the room, like a lot of the items that her character grabs along the way.”

Lucky, once again in her element—but not by choice—slinks upstairs and into the host’s expansive walk-in closet to procure her next disguise and indulge in some quiet luxury along the way. She plucks an ivory silk-charmeuse mini-slip dress and asymmetrical wrap skirt set out of the closet, along with a pair of white Fendi sandals. “Take a Birkin. She won’t notice,” quips Sharon (Annie Tedesco), another overly familiar party guest enjoying the facilities in the main suite. “It’s based off of a vintage Dior Haute Couture dress,” says Wada, who built upwards of 10 of the set to take Lucky through her next sequence of action-packed adventures. “It has a Tetris element to it, which then seemed to be perfect because she could do all these different things with it.”

Lucky rejoins the party completely immersed into the environment, and as the guests are distracted, helps herself to the contents of the guests’ designer wallets, an actual Birkin bag, an exaggerated collar white Jacquemus duster coat, and a shiny new car from the valet. “It had to feel that it was a rich woman's dress,” continues Wada. “There's something about how Anya can wear these clothes so naturally. She sold it really well, so it didn't feel too fancy for what it had to go through.”

With the pristine ivory foreshadowing inevitable bloodshed to come, Cary meets his demise and Lucky again must outsmart the authorities and dangerous adversaries on her own. But she at least found the $10 million, so treats herself to a new outfit that finally expresses herself: a black leather racer jacket by Diesel, Nili Lotan boot-cut jeans, and vintage Fiorentini + Baker stacked heel boots. “It goes back to a little bit of her Y2K roots. She wasn't raised traditionally, and perhaps had a little emo to her,” says Wada, referring to the scenes of a young Lucky (Quine Aune), as an accessory to her father’s scams. “In the flashbacks, she's got that little bit of a grunge emo take on her wardrobe. So it's bringing it full circle back to the modern day version of that.”

Lucky is also armored up to face Priscilla, who’s perpetually dressed for a standoff in impeccable pantsuits, strong silhouettes, luxurious fabrics, and sharply tailored outerwear—like the power-shouldered Phoebe Philo-era Céline trench coat and windowpane-check mock-neck top by Dries Van Noten she wears for her highly anticipated reveal as her chauffeured car window slowly rolls down. “When she came on, everybody clapped for two minutes,” says Wada. “Her intro into the show is perfect, and it really makes you want to see her more.”

For inspiration, Wada looked to Charlotte Rampling’s Givenchy Spring 2020 campaign, shot by Craig McDean under then-artistic director Claire Waight Keller. “[Rampling] really elevated these clothes,” says Wada. “I felt that was really important for Priscilla. She made trendy clothes feel suitable for her, and she really wore them well. It brings out her coolness.”

Priscilla’s carefully curated wardrobe also serves as a power play as she negotiates her standing with ruthless boss Wayne (William Fichtner), attempts to reconnect with her son, and tries to control Lucky. “Everything that she does is considered—that’s how she rose through the ranks. So the clothes had to feel somewhat editorial and very considered because they're her armor,” says Wada, also dressing the newly-released Priscilla as a rebuke to the authorities. “In a weird way, they’re a rebellion against being in prison, as well. So to be sort of elevated and rich.”

At Cary’s memorial, surrounded by underworld men, Priscilla channels her grief into her ultimate power pantsuit: a strong-shouldered, wide-leg Chloé silhouette, a white French-cuff Prada shirt, and a monochrome vintage tie. “A suit just seemed right, and there was a patriarchy [statement] to it as well,” says Wada, drawing from another pantsuit icon. “I felt like it had to have that grande dame Dietrich feel to it.”