The spice is in the air. The sand worms are a roar. And if you haven’t felt the pull of desert power yet, well, after what’s sure to be a world-eating box office weekend for Denis Villeneuve’s Dune 2, you’re about to. Based on Frank Herbert’s sweeping 1965 novel (sweeping enough for two full feature-length films), Villeneuve’s adaptations are prompting even the most sci-fi averse to gear up for a trip into the cosmos.
For the uninitiated, Dune tells the story of Paul Atreides, a lordling to the space-manor born. Paul’s father, Duke Leto, is given a dubious imperial directive: to take command of the desert planet Arrakis, which is scarce in water but rich in a mineral called spice, used to power interplanetary travel. If this sounds a bit ho-hum, there’s plenty of betrayal, violence, prophecy, and the ever-present threat of a massive, all-consuming war. Also on offer, a millennia-long religious propaganda project by the Bene Gesserit who are, to put it briefly, an order of extremely powerful space witches who have orchestrated a generations-long breeding program aimed at refining various royal bloodlines in order to produce a messiah. Paul is an outlier in this process – Bene Gesserit women are supposed to use their power to bear only daughters, an order which Jessica defies. Still, as the result of thousands of years of intricately planned blue-blood reproduction, he’s one of fiction’s most iconic nepo-babies.
Of course, if you’re hoping to get audiences to turn off their nerd-alert alarms and settle in for a nearly three-hour-long meditation on religion, power, and environmentalism, it helps to have a mega-wattage movie-star cast. And if that cast includes young dazzlers Timothée Chalamet and Zendaya with ageless icon Charlotte Rampling thrown in for good measure, well, so much the better.
The movie’s headliners were out in full effect for the better part of a month, working an all-out premiere blitz that itself felt like a trip to a bygone alien Hollywood of globe-trotting, no-expense-spared, no-outfit left-unphotographed premieres. The star-driven charm offensive led by Zendaya, Chalamet, Austin Butler and Florence Pugh has proven that Warner Brothers’ decision to bump back the film’s release date due to the SAG-AFTRA strikes was a canny one. Imagine having this movie, starring these people, and not being able to fly them to every corner of the earth to promote it?
Charming, beautiful stars, bombastic visuals and the near-certainty of Barbenheimer-esque cultural dominance over the next few months – no wonder the fashion world seems caught up in Dune fever, with designers feeling the sci-fi yen quite a bit. For Spring 2024 couture, Schiaparelli’s Daniel Roseberry employed microchips and circuit boards with surrealistic elan, while Kim Jones hewed to a more stripped-down vision of Space Age style at Fendi. In the (still ongoing) Fall ready-to-wear collections, Christian Siriano turned directly to Frank Herbert for inspiration, bringing Arrakis to New York’s Plaza Hotel with a parade of high-glam looks in various blacks and desert neutrals. And Rick Owens offered up models decked out in face-hugging balaclavas, knotted knitwear and cage-like dresses best described as barely-there-Bene-Gesserit chic. Owens’ titled the show PORTERVILLE, in homage to his California hometown, but the clothes would be equally at home in a galaxy far, far away (fitting for a designer whose singular creative strangeness has always seemed a bit not of this world).
But Dune’s resonance in the fashion world goes beyond any transitory seasonal creative thread (or beyond the appeal of Bene Gesserit garb for the gal who longs for the gothy elan of endless billowing black fabric). By now, even the most earthbound observers are familiar with the novel’s off-world desert climbs. In Herbert’s Arrakis, water is a scarce resource, one so precious that a hawked glob of spit isn’t a gross bodily insult, but a sign of great honor and respect. Water scarcity courses through every facet of life on Arrakis. Adjusting to life on her adopted planet, Lady Jessica finds herself constantly uneasy with her newfound awareness of a once-abundant resource, as “the unconscious preoccupation with water here weighed on her mind.”
Clothing offers a literal refuge for those attempting to navigate the unforgiving climes of Arrakis; stillsuits are “basically a micro-sandwich – a high efficiency filter and heat-exchange system.” This nifty piece of technology sucks up moisture expelled by the body and filters it into drinkable water. And great news: “Urine and feces are processed in the thigh pads.” Processed into what? Some desert mysteries are best left unsolved. Sprung from the imaginations of Dune costume designers Jacqueline West and Bob Morgan, the onscreen suits have an alluring utilitarian vibe that hits at the sweet-spot intersection of arid, drought-stricken hellscape and Balenciaga body armor. As wearable irrigation systems go, they’re certainly chicer than the goofy, if functional, hydration backpacks available at your local REI.
There’s an irony to the creative hold that Herbert’s novel or, more accurately, that West and Morgan’s costumes for the adaptations of Herbert’s novel, have on fashion. Sustainability has long been a watchword for the industry, and in recent years has become a sweeping imperative for luxury. If eco-consciousness is fashion’s new religion, then Stella McCartney is its Reverend Mother (to employ Dune terminology).
McCartney, whose environmentally conscious approach to her business began with eschewing all animal products, did not stop at laying the groundwork for the current era of cruelty-free options in tony apparel. Her brand takes a holistic approach to sustainability. Plastic water bottles were banned from offices and stores in 2012, long before anyone had ever heard of a Stanley Cup; harmful processes like denim sandblasting are verboten, and, in 2023, the house paired with Radiant Matter to develop biodegradable, plant-based sequins.
It’s hard to imagine, given today’s ever-growing focus on the environment and resource preservation, but McCartney’s industry-leading commitment was once dismissed as quixotic eccentricity at best, and outright lunacy at worst. Her mission statements were met with derision, and often naked contempt, from a range of critics including fellow designers. Now, her once-niche practices – particularly the eschewing of fur – are mainstream practice, and in 2019, the designer became a sustainability advisor to no less of a behemoth than LVMH. She has led the highest tiers of the fashion world in setting their considerable power and focus on forging a more eco-friendly future.
But a harsh truth remains: The apparel industry still puts a grave strain on natural resources. Global textile and clothing production churns through an astonishing amount of water, with recent estimates ranging between 79 and 94 billion cubic meters annually.
Reams of the goods produced, particularly in the fast-fashion realm, have a woefully short lifespan. In a 2021 article for EcoWatch, Tiffany Duong called attention to the Atacama Desert in Chile, which has become a dumping ground for unsold garments on an unimaginable scale (tens of thousands of tons per year). Duong described the pile-up of cast-offs as a geological phenomenon – “new dunes are forming,” she wrote. One wonders how many of those new dunes will soon include mass throwaways from what will likely be a glut of Bene Gesserit Halloween costumes this year.
This may be a buzzkill pall for a purportedly fun newsletter to cast over a movie that features Christopher Walken as a be-robed, space-traveling emperor. But at heart, the story of Dune (in Herbert’s novels and their film adaptations) is one about awareness – both of the world around you and the world you work to build, for better or worse. It’s a space opera with bracing relevance to the real world, regarding protection of the environment and other issues as well – earthbound concerns headier than what one might typically expect from a bombastic popcorn flick. But at least these sobering themes are played against the joy of watching Willy Wonka ride a gigantic worm.