The return of Euphoria arrives with a fresh costume voice at its center: Natasha Newman-Thomas, who stepped into a universe previously defined by Heidi Bivens. In taking over, Newman-Thomas brought experience from projects like I Love LA and The Idol, and faced the challenge of honoring an already iconic visual language while also moving the characters forward. Her brief was not just to dress actors but to translate emotional arcs into fabric, silhouette, and accessory choices—an approach that treats costume design as a critical narrative tool.
That narrative responsibility is heightened by the show’s cultural footprint: Bivens’s earlier work spawned viral moments, inspired online trends, and even led production partner A24 to publish a book by Bivens about the show’s fashion—complete with essays contributed by several writers. Newman-Thomas has been candid about keeping those references in view while intentionally steering the series toward a different kind of resonance: less about chasing micro trends and more about creating a timeless palette that suits the characters’ new realities. Her choices aim to make garments feel authentic to who the characters have become.
A new custodian of a living wardrobe
Stepping into a well-known world means balancing homage and innovation. For Newman-Thomas, part of that work was to expand the setting beyond the insular high-school bubble; the time jump between seasons allowed characters to move into varied social spheres. That shift required a wider sartorial vocabulary so that clothing could signal both continuity and change. The result is wardrobe-driven storytelling where a single jacket or briefcase can indicate aspiration, deceit, or survival. The designer thinks in terms of character shorthand, selecting pieces that reveal inner life without spelling it out.
How specific garments shape identity
Some items arrive loaded with meaning. The Nate Jacobs storyline, for example, leans into the idea of performative wealth: a character who wants to look established even when he’s still proving himself. Newman-Thomas incorporated a string of Bottega Veneta pieces for Nate, including a striking shirt and a scene-stealing briefcase, choices that play into the character’s “fake it ’til you make it” posture. These decisions were deliberate rather than gratuitous: they help stage the tension between blue-collar pretense and high-end aspiration, and they nod to the off-screen relationship between the actor and the brand.
Nate, brands, and believable pretending
The wardrobe for Nate raises the practical question of brand visibility versus dramatic truth. Newman-Thomas explains that dressing him in runway items wasn’t about product placement so much as constructing a persona who needs to be believed by investors and lovers alike. By using luxury labels in a way that supports the story, the costumes become props of persuasion. The team also took care to avoid letting such flashes of glamour pull the audience out of the show’s world: every curated logo and couture moment is meant to feel earned.
Characters, couture, and a move away from virality
Each principal character carries a distinct sartorial logic. Rue remains a scavenger of clothes—holding onto essentials like her Converse and reusing what she can—while Cassie clings to accessories and jewelry that keep her tethered to an earlier version of herself. Newman-Thomas describes Cassie’s look as having a lingering residual trendiness, where high-school aesthetics persist into adulthood. Maddy, now in talent management, gains access to vintage couture and sharp designer shoes; Lexi leans into thrifted, vintage pieces that suggest a more conscientious approach to fashion.
Vintage sourcing and collaborative craft
The season is rich with sourced pieces and bespoke creations: a custom Levi’s jacket for Rue with multiple replicas provided by the brand, a vintage Roberto Cavalli jacket, Dior by Galliano, and pre-loved Prada and Saint Laurent finds that were tracked down through resale platforms. Newman-Thomas also worked with contemporary designers—Jackson Wiederhoeft contributed to a wedding dress—and created original garments when a vintage inspiration didn’t deliver the right moment. Even playful items like an Agent Provocateur dog costume were tailored to fit character and story, showcasing the production’s blend of research, craftsmanship, and narrative intent.
Ultimately, Newman-Thomas’s season three strategy reframes what it means for a show to be fashionable: rather than engineering virality, the costumes aim to be truthful to each character’s trajectory. The emphasis on timelessness and specificity lets the clothes feel like lived-in choices rather than curated trends, expanding the Euphoria wardrobe into new social terrains while keeping the emotional grammar viewers expect. In this way, the season’s fashion continues to be a central voice in the show’s storytelling.
