Cosplaying for the first time is insane when you have a destructive cat – CNET


This is Piper. She’s a menace. 

Erin Carson/CNET

It’s 8:30 p.m. on the Wednesday before the 4th of July, and my mom and I are walking through the fabric aisle of a Joann craft store looking for a bolt of a specific shade of red. It’s not fire engine red, or candy apple red, or even ruby red. We’re looking for blood red. 

With minutes to go before the store closes for the night, we walk out with a few yards of fabric, thread, a 22-inch zipper, and an urgency to get home and start cutting out a pattern for a dress that’s going to be my first attempt at cosplaying at none other than San Diego Comic-Con

At this point, you’ve probably heard about cosplay. Folks dress up as characters from TV, movies, comics, anime, or even as characters from their own imaginations. Some outfits are more elaborate than others. You’ll often find them at conventions around the world, like SDCC, showing off their latest creation. 

While folks have always dressed up in costume for one reason or another, the word “cosplay” is relatively new. The University of Montana traces the word back to 1984 as an anglicized version of the Japanese word “Kosupure,” and a fusion of the words “costume” and “play.”

Cosplaying has grown in popularity over the years, in much the same way there’s been a boom in geek culture, and a burgeoning of conventions on everything from comics, to sci-fi, to horror.

After attending SDCC for the first time last year, (and watching members of two different groups of Justice League heroes come face-to-face in the convention center, and receive each other with glee) I decided maybe it’s something I want to try.

The character

Earlier in June, I’m sitting in one of our office conference rooms, on the phone with Yaya Han, one of the best-known cosplayers out there, a 17-year cosplay veteran who’s dressed up as everyone from Catwoman to Jessica Rabbit. I ask her for the advice she’d give to a cosplay newsbie. 

Han, who has expanding her brand into the creation side of cosplay by making patterns, resources and tools for cosplayers, gives me a starting point: “The first thing is to choose a character you connect with,” she tells me. 

This ends up being the easiest part of the whole process. 

I’m going to be Sabrina Spellman, from Netflix’s Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, which is a reboot of the 90s ABC comedy starring Melissa Joan Hart, based off Archie Comics’ Sabrina the Teenage Witch. While I’m mostly anti-reboot these days, I loved Sabrina as a kid and even read the comics for a few years. Netflix’s version is vastly different, with about 3000 percent more Satan at the original, drawing from a dark update to the comics from 2015. 


Sabrina is all about red. 

Diyah Pera/Netflix

Sabrina, now played by Kiernan Shipka, still speaks to me. Modern-day Sabrina isn’t just trying to make it the dance on time, she’s questioning the unquestioned gender roles of her belief system, raising the dead, and taking on the Devil himself. 

May every teenage girl have that kind of confidence. 

The community

So, I have an idea, but where do I start?

After work one Thursday, I meet up with Ryan Gatsinger and Kim Baker Taylor, who run the show for the Ohio River Valley Cosplayers and Prop Builders group (or ORCs, for short.) Gatsinger founded ORCs in 2015, and it boasts around 2,800 members, including folks from well outside the Ohio River Valley.

“Make a list — what does that character wear or what are the pieces do [you] have to create?” Gatsinger advises. 

He and Taylor, who make about 10 costumes a year each, tell me about their planning processes and why they bother with the foam,  wigs, makeup, props and whatever else. 

“I like the psychology of the character, and I like to take and translate that character visually,” Taylor tells me, describing past projects like a rock-a-billy Harley Quinn and Lily Munster. 

About that list, though. Here’s how I break it down:

  • Blond wig
  • Long sleeve red dress with lace collar and cuffs
  • Black headband
  • Black tights
  • Black shoes

The wig

On a Saturday afternoon, I meet up with my friend Hannah Stoppel to chat about cosplay and down a couple desserts from a local bakery. 

I am unbelievably lucky to have Hannah as a pal for many reasons, including that she 1) studied costuming in college 2) works at a wig-making company 3) can seemingly sew anything from Regency-era clothing to Daenerys Targaryen’s dress from when she arrived at Dragonstone Landing. Hannah even made her own wedding dress. 

We talk about how she learned how to costume, and what to look for in wigs. We start perusing websites looking for something blonde, medium-length, wavy and roughly $30.

But when I find a wig from a company Hannah doesn’t know,  I turn to the ORCs’ Facebook group in search of the amped-up cosplay community spirit I keep hearing about. 


About 20 bobbie pins are digging into my scalp. 

Erin Carson/CNET

The ORCs do not disappoint. They freely give and receive help with everything from props to makeup and more. So when I ask if anyone knows anything about Big Epic Cosplay wigs, multiple people chime in. One person tells me they’ve got several from the company. Another actually has the exact model I’m looking into, and tells me I might have to trim it a bit for Sabrina. 

When the wig arrives a week later, I slide it out of its mailing envelope— this soft blonde thing contained in some netting and a ziplock bag. I handle it like someone who’s never picked up a cat before. It sits on my coffee table for a few days until Hannah can tell me what to do with it. 

When Hannah comes over, she shows me how to put my hair in pin curls and braids on top of my head. She shows me how to put on the net wig cap, which involves putting the whole thing over the top half of my face for a moment like I’m about to rob a bank, tucking away flyaway hairs with a pen I have laying around, and how to actually put on the wig starting at the back. 

Somehow, my mass of wavy hair all fits under the wig. I breathe a sigh of relief and think about the 20-something bobbie pins digging into my scalp. 

The dress

Weeks before I make the 3-hour trek home to Nashville so my mom (maker of all my childhood Halloween costumes) can help me sew my dress, I descent into an infinite black hole of dress patterns and lace collars and cuffs. 

Although you can find generic-ish patterns specifically for cosplay — I’m looking at you, medieval fur cape — there’s not an existing, available pattern for Sabrina’s red dress. What I have to go on is some screen shots from the show, and a dim sense from childhood of how my mom and I used to adapt patterns to fit our purposes. 

After two afternoons of searching, I find a pattern for a dress with long sleeves, and a crew neck. The seams aren’t exactly where I need them, but I remind myself I’m not going for screen-accurate, I’m going for good enough given it’s my first time cosplaying. 

Now playing: Watch this: Cosplay medics are here for your costume emergency


Finding the collar and cuffs is a similar challenge. Etsy fails me. And even if I can find a collar, I can’t find matching cuffs. I just can’t seem to find anything that works. But then, my mom, being a problem-solver extraordinaire, texts me a photo— she’s diced up a paper doily to fit around the crew neck of a t-shirt. 

For a first-timer, good enough basically means perfect. 

So, I hop on Amazon and order a 6-pack of white, 10-inch crocheted doilies.  

Let’s talk about my cat

It essentially takes from Wednesday night to Friday morning (with breaks and brunches in between) to cut out the pattern, pin the pieces together, sew them, sew the zipper, adjust the hem, attach the collar and cuffs, and sew on buttons. Overall, it goes well.  


The product of many days of hard work.

Erin Carson/CNET

Except for the presence of our cat Piper, a creature who as been described on multiple occasions as “a threat to humanity.”

From the get-go, Piper tries to nap on the fabric, launches herself onto the dining room table where we’ve got the pieces laid out, steals one of the pattern pieces and nearly shreds it, claws at the box for the sewing machine— crafting with Piper in the house is like sitting on a raft while a shark circles in the water.

Despite Piper’s best efforts, we finish the dress. My mom and I are gleeful.

When I get back to Louisville, my neighbor greets me as I’m getting the dress and my luggage out of the car: “Hey Sabrina!”

Here’s the full breakdown:

  • Wig: $32.99
  • Wig cap: Donation from Hannah
  • Fabric: $22.48 for 2.5 yards 
  • Thread: $5.99
  • Buttons: $1.99 x 2
  • Zipper: $4.99
  • Doilies: $16.99
  • Black tights: I already own
  • Black shoes: I already own
  • Lipstick: $4.99

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