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TCM, Turning Classic Movies, brings to light classic movies with a flair for fashion. This week’s feature is Billy Wilder‘s 1950 masterpiece, Sunset Blvd.

When it comes to tales that explore the dark side of fame, there is no greater film than Sunset Blvd. Starring Gloria Swanson as tragic movie queen Norma Desmond whose struggle to make a comeback only causes her to lose everything, the film is still painfully relevant over 60 years later. Particularly in our celebrity-obsessed culture.

Norma, like Gloria herself, was a major star before the era of the talkies* and unable to accept the loss of her fame (and sanity), lives in a world of her past glory. Aiding Norma in her delusions is her well-meaning and utterly devoted butler, Max, who also happens to be her former director. And in another instance of art imitating life, Max is played by Erich Von Stroheim, who also happens to be Gloria’s former director. Everyone got that? Ok, moving on.

The walls begin to crumble when struggling writer, Joe Gillis — played by strong-jawed William Holden — wanders into Norma’s life. In him she sees the chance to engineer her long-awaited comeback to the big screen; and in her he sees a generous meal ticket. However Gillis, for the better part of him, can’t help but be drawn to the reclusive, mentally unhinged, but still completely glamorous Norma.

We as the audience know from the first few minutes that their relationship will end in tragedy. The film is narrated posthumously by Joe through an extended flashback as his lifeless body is fished out of Norma’s pool. She shoots him in a jealous rage and out of the fear of being abandoned — like I said, still relevant. There are days when I’m literally seconds away from shooting anyone who would dare even look sideways at me.

After committing this murder, Norma is allowed her final close up as she is taken away by the police in one of the saddest and most beautifully poetic moments in cinematic history.

A large part of what makes Norma so tragic a character is her wardrobe, realized by legendary costume designer, Edith Head. Head gives Norma Desmond an air of dilapidated glamour; her clothes are gorgeous, but they’re a bit worn, a bit shoddy, a bit off…much like the lady herself.

Norma is swathed in opulent furs and shrouded in dramatic gowns with sweeping capes. She is an actress — a star! — and therefore she is always performing, always on. Her clothes add to the already palpable drama, while her makeup is so severe it gives her face a Kabuki-like quality.

Perfect for the silent screen, or to conspicuously hide years of neglect and  withered glamor.

*For the kids out there, movies once didn’t come in 3D, in iMAX, in color or even in sound. Then Al Jolson slapped on some black face and the talkie was born. Racism, however, has always been a part of film.