How Fashion Makes the New Thriller ‘Lurker’ Scary and Real
Lurker is one of those films that creeps up on you. The parasocial thriller, out earlier this month, follows gangly weirdo Matthew (Theodore Pellerin) edging his way into the life of someone cooler than he is: rising pop star Oliver (Archie Madekwe). What starts with expert Facebook stalking becomes a story about proximity, envy, and the unspoken hierarchies of male friendship; think Ingrid Goes West meets The Talented Mr. Ripley, but with Stone Island, Quiksilver, and a Frank Ocean-centric mood board.
Fashion isn’t just window dressing in Lurker. The film, which is set in 2018, opens in the Procell-coded vintage store in Los Angeles where Matthew works — in reality 194 Local. Who gets to wear what, and how, becomes a way of signaling power within Oliver’s crew. Early on, Matthew is the one in stripes, quietly observing from behind the counter. Later, it’s Oliver who slips into striped knits, a subtle but pointed transfer of style — and power. The off-kilter thrifted sweaters, tees, and vintage Loewe pieces all help map out shifting dynamics between fan and star, hanger-on and hype man, friend and rival.
That’s why Megan Gray’s costume design is so central to the atmosphere. Gray, who previously worked on I, Origins, and The Matrix Resurrections, theorizes that clothing has become a kind of mask in the age of social media. In Lurker, the characters use clothes like avatars, projecting confidence or taste that might not actually reflect who they are. That tension between image and identity, she says, is exactly what made menswear such a powerful storytelling tool.
We spoke with Gray about building Oliver’s look from fragments of Steve Lacy and Dominic Fike, why Matthew’s wardrobe had to feel limited but loaded, and how even the smallest details matter in a film where being seen means everything.
This conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.
Director Alex Russell has described 2018 as just long ago enough for the film to feel like a period piece. To me, some of the fashion recalls an even earlier moment. How did you shape that aesthetic?
It doesn’t feel like that big of a jump from where we are now, especially in menswear and fashion and streetwear, but there was a difference in how men presented themselves. It was a little bit more playful and colorful. We wanted to make sure we were touching on all of the major moments from that time, like when Virgil took over Louis Vuitton.
Alex had certain references: Dominic Fike or Rex Orange County. Obviously, Frank Ocean was on everyone’s moodboard. But Oliver’s character really came forward in speaking with Archie and talking about what kind of music his character sings and performs and finding our own version of that. We looked at artists like Steve Lacy and Travis Scott — studying the little details in how they present themselves on and off stage — and used those pieces to build Oliver.
Why do you think it made sense to center a movie around menswear now?
I’ve always seen menswear culture as a fascinating ecosystem: part fan culture, part fashion archive, part performance. It’s not just about sneakers or streetwear drops. It's about the ritual of collecting, the status attached to rare pieces, and how that can shape relationships. For the film, it felt important to reference that because menswear culture is one of the clearest examples of how clothing can carry meaning far beyond just getting dressed.
One look of Oliver’s that stood out to me was the fuzzy green T-shirt with the deep V, worn with a pendant necklace.
That green sweater is Loewe from 2015 or 2016. We wanted Oliver to tap into a sense of fluidity and not need to be so buttoned up, showing his skin in a way that could feel sexy or soft, showing different sides of his character. The pendant was something Archie wanted; he liked the idea that it could be something from Oliver’s mom who we never really hear about in the film. It’s from Azlee, a LA-based brand. They sent us a bunch of different ones, and he found one that really spoke to him. Even off-camera, he’d play with it.
What about the outfit he wears for his album cover shoot in London? The wool herringbone jacket with the grommets — or are they sink drains?
They are! The jacket is also from Loewe. It’s very weighted, and Archie liked how heavy it was. I was concerned that it might restrict what he was doing, but that scene is intense, and he liked that the coat made him feel stuck. Underneath he has a vintage Rick Owens sweater with a stripe down the center and a pair of vintage black sailor pants.
What Loewe does so well is take something like a sink drain and turn it into fashion. And we also wanted Oliver to be someone who could take things that might be obscure and make people want to wear them. That carried through with the whole cast. You want to believe that Swett and Bowen, the other two boys who make up his crew, would pick up on Oliver’s edits — that if Oliver is being sent pieces, he keeps what resonates, tosses aside what doesn’t, and Swett and Bowen start pulling from there. They all start to become one person in a way.
That ties into the film’s theme of male friendship hierarchies and how all the characters are trying to fit in with each other in different ways. Swett and Bowen’s styles are also pretty distinct. Bowen, played by Wale of rap duo Paris Texas, has his bucket hat, and Swett, played by Zach Fox… I don’t know.
Swett usually wears printed sweaters, loafers, and socks. Zach and I wanted his character to feel the most lost in his personal style, especially compared to Bowen who, like Wale in real life, is out there making music. We let Bowen be quieter in his wardrobe — Stone Island, some old Acne pieces, and basic adidas — because it wasn’t about that for him. The bucket hat was part of Wale’s creative process while touring, and we cleared it with Alex to have him wear it in the film.
In contrast, we have no idea what Swett does. He’s a hype man; he’ll do whatever Oliver tells him to do or whatever he thinks looks cool. You see Swett and Bowen pulling from all sorts of references, throwing pieces on without thinking about whether they make sense. Zach really committed to that. We never wanted it to feel comical, but sometimes you’re kind of like, What are you wearing right now? What is happening?
Matthew’s look is very pared back, although that changes as the movie goes on. What was your approach to defining his style?
We wanted him to feel like a traditional LA skater kid. Matthew is searching for belonging, and you feel sorry for him or want to be on his side. Loose sweaters, simple T-shirts, and subtle stripes give him likability. He doesn’t feel threatening. When he takes control, we flip the script a little. Oliver starts to not be so put together, and Matthew’s in jackets and more powerful stripes.
What brands did you use to build his look?
He wears one sweater with green-and-orange stripes that’s a really old Dries Van Noten piece. Other than that, we kept everything grounded in the realm of what these kids would actually wear: Quiksilver, Lacoste, that kind of thing. We kept him in the same Vans the entire time and rotated a few pairs of vintage Levi’s with Carhartt and Dickies. He wore the same white vintage T-shirt and played around with the top layers. The idea was to make it feel like he wasn’t consciously changing his clothes.
I noticed that Jamie has a great ring collection. Are those Sunny’s own?
Yes. It’s kind of Sunny’s signature — part of his persona. I love when an actor brings something personal into a character. Havana Rose Liu always wears something red: a string, a necklace, a bead. Her character is quiet but a real force as the only woman in the main cast. We worked closely on how to elevate her in terms of age and presence — how she’s trying to keep it all together, trying to keep everyone on track, and hold onto her own identity within the group. I ended up having her wear dresses over pants or knee-high boots that made her feel grounded.
