Wicked costume designer Paul Tazewell has been enchanted by Oz and Munchkinland for most of his life. Growing up, it was an Easter tradition for his family to watch the annual TV broadcast of The Wizard of Oz. Tazewell remembers being struck by the visuals of the 1939 film.
"Going from sepia tone in Dorothy's house to technicolor when she enters into Munchkinland — that's one of the most magical transitions that I can remember," he says.
Tazewell worked to capture the same magic in Wicked: For Good. When Glinda descends from her bubble in iridescent blue and lavender, or when Elphaba sweeps through the sky for the first time in a weathered trench coat and trousers, their clothes are an integral part of the story, telling us who these women have become.
"I see my work as a costume designer to be one of a storyteller, and I'm telling a silent story," Tazewell says. "It reveals itself adjacent to the performances of the characters."
For more than 30 years, Tazewell's designs for Broadway, TV and film have shaped how we see stories, from the worn revolutionary textures of Hamilton to the saturated palette of West Side Story. Earlier this year, he made history as the first Black man to win the Academy Award for costume design for his work on the first Wicked film. But for Tazewell, his work with textiles began decades earlier, when his mom taught him to sew when he was 9.
"My mother had a Singer sewing machine and she would set it up and she would make costumes and clothing for us, my brothers and myself," he says. "It was just a skill that I wanted to have, so that I could start to create things for myself."
In college, Tazewell considered a path in the performing arts, but chose design instead. "Where I might not be cast in certain roles because of how I looked, as a designer, I could be anyone," he says. "I made the decision that I would devote myself to costume design and live vicariously through other characters."
Interview highlights
On the decision to dress Elphaba in trousers
Something happened to my design brain when John M. Chu said that he was casting Cynthia Erivo [in the role of Elphaba]. ... I had already worked with Cynthia in Harriet, and I knew her range. I fully understood her connection to clothing, how she develops a character, what that conversation is as she's developing a character, as you know, because we went through that process on Harriet, but I knew that she would be able to go to a place that would use the agility of wearing trousers as a means of athletic expression and power. That the ability to move allowed for her to navigate the world in a way that was more expansive than being in a skirt and jacket all the time.
On why Elphaba is often in all black
She lost her mother very early in life. She was in mourning, so she wore that color, the black color, signifying mourning. And then to adopt that as a way to pull herself apart from the rest of the community, which we see presented when she's a little girl the other children in the neighborhood make fun of her. And holding on to that armoring that's created by wearing black, it felt real in a way because you think about high school students or young students who dress in black or in a very goth way to make themselves feel special or to create a separation from the rest of the bullies that might be hurting them, just to create some significance in their personality.
I was talking about how Cynthia was cast. It was the first time that a Black woman had ever been cast in that role, which was surprising because the whole point of the story is that she is being ostracized or vilified, or that she's othered because of the color of her skin. Now there's a direct connection to the racial structure of our country. There are so many similarities in the emotional story for a person of color and how that relates to Elphaba.
On the gray, chunky wool sweater Elphaba wears in her love scene with Fiyero — aka the "sex cardigan"
It came out of very literally an organic decision of what does Elphaba have access to? And living alone, what choice would she make when she's looking for a robe, some way to be protective and warm? ... It's operating as her robe for that moment. She's got a loom in her treehouse, where she's weaving her own clothing. She's manifesting all these things from the elements that are around her, and the sweater is just in keeping with that. Now indeed, you could say, Well, why wasn't it a black, slinky peignoir? But where would she get ... that? Well why would she even have it? … I think that it just follows through with reasonable choices that define who a character is and what is important for them, where their priorities are.
On growing up in a creative family
My grandmother was a painter. My dad loved model trains. So I remember for a period of time he had this huge model train table ... [with] model houses [and] you'd create a little town and then the train would ride around it. And then there was the element of live production. They would take us to productions of musicals that were in the Akron and Cleveland area. They encouraged us to join the drama club and my brothers and myself, we were all Suzuki violin or cello student. So culture was was really big. And my grandmother had studied at Oberlin, [studied] music, and she was a piano teacher and piano player and so it was just a part of our family culture that we were expressive.
Ann Marie Baldonado and Thea Chaloner produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Beth Novey adapted it for the web.
Copyright 2025 NPR
