As soon as I saw Heidi Klum’s
worm Halloween costume, I
was gripped by the icy fingers of
inspiration. I simply had to write
about it. For those who somehow
missed it, Klum dressed up as
an enormous pinkish worm for
Halloween — and by “dressed up,”
I mean she underwent a complete
transformation.
How to describe the worm
costume. It takes a second to even
realize there’s a person in the
costume, let alone that it’s Heidi
Klum. If I didn’t hear her talking
in interviews outside her famous
Halloween party (and believe
in her indomitable Halloween
spirit), I could be convinced she
got some poor schmuck to dress
up in her place.
Fundamentally, the worm is a
bunch of pieces of foam, a ton of
makeup and a lot of other special
effects stuff that took months to
make. Visually, it is a glistening,
seven-foot-tall
masterpiece
that’s slimy to the touch. Klum’s
body fills most of the worm, but
towering above her face — yes,
Klum’s eyes and mouth are her
only features visible through
small holes, giving the worm a
disconcerting human expression
—
is
several
more
feet
of
sickeningly realistic worm, which
curves forward like a second
face. Behind Klum’s shuffling
feet are still more meticulously
crafted rings of shiny brown foam
protruding like an avant-garde
gown’s train.
The costume itself, which I have
lovingly dubbed the “klumworm”
in casual conversation, is a feat.
It was meant to be outlandish, as
Klum constantly ups the ante of
her Halloween outfits. Klum has
a two-decades-plus history of
outlandish Halloween costumes,
including an old woman, herself
as one of six clones, a cat that looks
like it could be in “Cats” (2019),
Princess Fiona from “Shrek” and,
of course — who could forget? — a
human body without skin. Klum
is an icon in the fashion world.
Most people, including myself,
were first introduced to her via
“Project Runway,” which she
co-hosted until 2018 with the
also-iconic Tim Gunn, but she’s
also a supermodel and former
Victoria’s Secret Angel. Now she
can add “sickeningly realistic
worm” to her lengthy list of
achievements.
Klum said in an in-costume
interview with Entertainment
Tonight (while lying on the floor
after the precarious costume
caused her to fall) that the
worm took the artists “months”
to construct, and that she felt
“very claustrophobic” inside the
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Arts
Wednesday, November 16, 2022 — 5
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
I’m more worm
than Klum
EMILIA FERRANTE
Senior Arts Editor
I would rather stub my toe
repeatedly than wear my high
school’s merch in public. It’s
not that I had a horrible high
school experience or that my
school colors were particularly
unpleasant; my high school gear
is just an eyesore that I would
rather leave in the past. Why
linger? In fact, I use the high
school hoodies that I guiltily
packed for college as makeshift
hair towels on laundry day. I’m
now trading out my faded blue
and maroon for new, tags-still-on
blue and maize — two colors that
fit together much better.
I,
without
shame,
regard
Michigan gear as the epitome
of high fashion. When I rifle
through my closet, trying to
choose an outfit, my gaze falls
on my Michigan hoodie. Or
my Michigan T-shirt, or my
other Michigan hoodie. Often,
I relent, throwing on a pair of
jeans or leggings underneath
(or on a lazy day, my Michigan
sweats).
See
how
versatile?
The outfit provides simplicity
and comfort, but just the word
“Michigan” etched on the front
makes the look remarkable. I
see countless students sporting
similar looks and feel a sense of
pride not only in this school but
in myself for leaving behind what
was comfortable and instead
pursuing growth and challenge.
When I told people I was going
to the University of Michigan
after high school, congratulations
were never in order. Instead,
their eyes would bug and they’d
gasp, “Wow! That’s so far!” That
was part of the appeal. I always
knew that staying in New Jersey
would never serve me, despite
the fact that I am, admittedly, a
creature of habit. Change scares
me. But though it would have
been more comfortable to stay
close to home, keep my minimum
wage job and think about my
future only in horoscope-reading
scenarios, I knew I could do
more. I’d always dreamed of
being a writer, but how could I
have material to write about if
I decided to stay close to home?
Who wants to read about a girl
who had the chance to change
her life and chose not to? I knew I
had to be adventurous and chase
after the fresh, albeit scary new
life I could build for myself at the
University of Michigan. I chose
to disconnect myself from all
that I called home, knowing that
if I let myself linger there, if I left
a part of myself in New Jersey, I
would never grow.
Finally coming to Michigan,
it felt like I had entered a new
universe. People awoke at the
crack of dawn for game day, it was
no longer embarrassing to sing
the school song (or in this case,
our fight song) and I felt so much
belonging when I could wear my
maize and blue and find so many
people donning the same colors.
I could finally have an education
that not only challenged but
excited me. I signed up for an
Introduction to Creative Writing
class, where I was able to study
what
I’m
passionate
about
alongside equally dedicated and
enthusiastic writers.
Therein my newfound style
was born. Wearing Michigan
gear helps me feel connected to
the community here, with some
people from New Jersey like me,
while others show me the palm
of their hand to indicate where in
Michigan they are from. Wearing
my obnoxious, mustard-colored
clothing is also a sort of homage
to myself. The ambition, the drive
for success, it’s all seeped into the
fibers of the clothes I, and other
Michigan students, wear.
When packing to return to New
Jersey, I find myself stuffing all of
my Michigan gear tightly in my
deceptively small suitcase. I even
pack the free hoodie that PNC
bank gave out the first week of
school. I did not come to Michigan
with these items in tow, and I’m
sure my mother wouldn’t like
to hear that this is how I spend
my money, but I can’t imagine
parting
with
this
clothing.
Coming back to New Jersey for
the first time since becoming a
University of Michigan student
feels like putting on a shirt that’s
two sizes too small. I need room
to grow, room to explore greater
possibilities. So I choose to wear
my maize and blue.
Maize and blue: the epitome of high fashion
IRENA TUTUNARI
Daily Arts Contributor
Design by Evelyne Lee
Design by Abby Schreck
When
my
middle
school
introduced
its
musical
theatre
elective by putting on “Beauty
and the Beast Jr.,” I played Chip.
Well, I played Chip once and only
once, at a Saturday morning dress
rehearsal. I had appointed myself
the understudy — the speaking
roles went to the seventh and
eighth graders, and I wanted to
feel important as one of the few
sixth graders in the cast. The young
actress who had (rightfully) earned
the part of Chip hadn’t shown up
that day, which meant that I not
only got to say her lines but also got
to wear the bulky teacup costume.
It couldn’t have been more than
some painted fabric sewn around
a hula hoop, but I thought it was
something straight out of the movie.
I rode the high of playing what was,
to me, a lead role, all morning. It
was on that day that I first fell in
love with being onstage.
Doing
theatre
in
my
teens
has easily been one of the most
rewarding experiences of my life.
My parents insisted that my siblings
and I do something active each year.
In my freshman year of high school,
after many fruitless attempts at
different sports, my mom and I
went to see my school’s production
of “Hairspray.” She said that all the
dancing would count as “something
active,” and I immediately signed
up for the summer musical.
I’ve played a wide range of
characters over the years and worn
an even wider range of costumes.
I was in a “Guys and Dolls” dance
number. I wore a dress my friends
dubbed “the weed dress” because
it was green and had a sparkly
plant pattern on it. In another
complicated dance number for
“Curtains,” I played a mermaid.
Being in Catholic school meant we
wore seashell tube tops over white
leotards — God forbid we show
any actual skin, but considering I
got an uncomfortable compliment
from one of the dads in the cast,
it’s probably good that we didn’t.
I played a nun on more than one
occasion (again, Catholic school). I
wore a fur coat when I played Mrs.
Van Daan in “The Diary of Anne
Frank.” The coat was my character’s
most prized possession, to the point
where I probably rubbed its sleeves
on my cheek to showcase my love
for it more than I wore it as an
actual coat.
Under any other circumstances,
I avoided being in the spotlight. My
family would have to whisper-sing
“Happy Birthday” to me at parties
when I was a toddler. I hated being
asked to play the piano when we
had people over. Any time someone
cheered for me at a sporting event,
I’d turn and glare at them from the
court. So what was it about being
onstage that changed me? Did I
feel more confident because I was
playing a character? Did it have
something to do with the clothes
I wore? My costumes were never
something I could have worn
outside of a stage production, but
they made me feel beautiful in their
own way. I think the answer lies
more in the ways that performing
taught me to get out of my own
head.
Mrs. Van Daan was one of my
favorite roles I have ever played,
and not just because I was onstage
for the entire show. Mrs. Van
Daan was so unlike myself: openly
flirtatious, an instigator, stingy and
dramatic. She was a “big” character.
I was the furthest thing from big —
I remember my director telling me
not to be a “repressed white girl.”
As such, inhabiting her personality
took a lot of work. At the start of the
rehearsal process, we played improv
games in which we responded as we
thought our characters would. I
visibly froze during one game while
trying to come up with an answer
to the question. During another, I
was ironically eliminated for trying
to “stay alive” more than making
character choices. A particularly
scarring memory was having to stay
after a tech rehearsal for “yelling
lessons,” which left me in tears of
frustration.
HANNAH CARAPELLOTTI
Senior Arts Editor
You are not alone.
Too blue
to Go Blue?
Don’t be afraid to reach out. We’re here for you.
Connect with tools and resources at U-M that can
help you thrive — from wellness classes and apps to
useful information and counseling options.
Helping Leaders Feel Their Best:
wellbeing.umich.edu
Costume contemplations from a
former theatre-kid
Design by Reid Graham