The Eerie Similarities Between Jeffrey Beaumont and Frank Booth in David Lynch’s Blue Velvet
"I don't know if you're a detective or a pervert."
First things first: rest in peace, David Lynch.
When I heard the news, I remembered that I had tickets to see Blue Velvet in a theater the next day, something I’d planned weeks in advance. The timing was eerie and, honestly, kind of perfect. Seeing this masterpiece on the big screen the day after his passing was a cosmic reminder of how serendipitous life can be. Doesn’t get much more Lynchian than that.
The first time I saw Blue Velvet, I was a junior or senior in high school. I didn’t know Lynch from Adam. Back then, I’d go through Comcast’s OnDemand movie list and pick random films to watch after school. I clicked on it because the description sounded heady and interesting. And although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was already a lover of all things noir I just didn’t have the word for it yet. Blue Velvet scratched an itch: a dark, dreamy, gumshoe caper that was both unsettling and grounded in something strangely familiar.
That’s the thing about Lynch. He creates these universes where everything feels deliberate, and that includes the clothes. You might not notice them on a first watch (there’s a lot of other things to focus on) but the wardrobe in Blue Velvet is loaded with meaning. I’d also be remiss not to mention costume designer, Patricia Norris. Styling and wardrobe are an indispensable part of the cinematic language. They can communicate just as much about a character as lighting or performance or even dialogue.
Jeffrey Beaumont and Frank Booth, in particular, are styled in ways that speak volumes about who they are, what they’re hiding, and the dangerous similarities between them.
The All-American Kid in Noir Clothing
There’s a quote from Lynch about Jeffrey’s look: “Kyle (Maclachlan) is dressed like me. My father was a research scientist for the Department of Agriculture in Washington. We were in the woods all the time. I’d sorta had enough of the woods by the time I left, but still, lumber and lumberjacks, all this kinda thing, that’s America to me like the picket fences and the roses in the opening shot.” And sure, on paper, Jeffrey should be the embodiment of clean-cut Americana. But to me his actual style is way more brooding than Lynch’s rosy nostalgia might suggest.
Jeffrey doesn’t walk around Lumberton in flannels and buffalo plaid. The dude likes black. A lot. His go-to look throughout the film is slim, high-rise black jeans paired with a dark blazer. That’s not the uniform of the squeaky-clean boy next door. It’s sharp, almost edgy, and gives him a lowkey lounge bar vibe. His look wouldn’t feel out of place today on an Instagram moodboard next to Throwing Fits memes or Ssense product shots.
During his evening exploits, his fits fully lean into film noir form. He often dons a tie in a bold pattern and switches out his off-white button-up for a black one to add to his signature blazer-and-jeans combo.
What makes Jeffrey’s style so interesting is how it reflects his role in the story. He’s not the archetypal All-American kid Lynch’s quote would lead you to expect. He starts off curious and idealistic, but he’s also drawn to the darkness. His wardrobe is already leaning in that direction. His style is a lot closer to the pulp antiheroes he’s unconsciously channeling. He’s at home in the shadows, where the velvet curtains close and the music gets slow and strange.
The Devil Wears Black (and a Bolo Tie)
If Jeffrey’s wardrobe adapts to reflect his growing proximity to darkness, Frank Booth’s wardrobe is already there. From the moment he shows up, Frank is terrifying. And not just because of the gas huffing, the manic rants, or the violence.
What’s fascinating about Frank’s style is how close it is to Jeffrey’s. Both men favor slim black jeans and tailored silhouettes. But where Jeffrey’s look feels adaptable, Frank’s is stark. It’s western Americana turned menacing.
Frank’s go-to look is a leather jacket, black jeans, and cowboy boots. It’s raw, aggressive, and yet undeniably stylish. His most notable accessory, the bolo tie, even serves as an object that binds him and Jeffrey together. I’m sure it’s also not a coincidence that when we first see Jeffrey’s father, he’s also wearing a bolo. But while pops was serving suburban dad, in Frank’s hands, it feels like the symbol of an outlaw. I genuinely love how someone so insane can also be so dialed in style-wise.
Two Faces, Two Styles (spoilers ahead)
And then we have Frank’s alter ego: the “Well-Dressed Man.” When he’s not terrorizing people in his leather jacket, Frank cleans up in a way that’s just as unsettling; in a tailored and downright elegant double-breasted gray suit.
It’s fitting. A double-breasted suit for a man with two faces. In it, he’s polished and outwardly respectable. The exact opposite of the chaotic, violent man wearing it. But the red shirt underneath gives it away. It’s too bold, too aggressive. A literal red flag, just with collar, buttons and a placket.
The brilliance of Blue Velvet’s wardrobe is how much it tells you without you even realizing it. Jeffrey’s style evolves as he dives deeper into the darkness of Lumberton, mirroring his inner conflict. Frank’s outfits, meanwhile, are all about control. Whether it’s the raw aggression of his leather jacket or the unsettling sophistication of his suit, he’s always dressed to intimidate.
Lynch said that Blue Velvet was his version of America. The picket fences, the roses, the woods. It’s all there, but so are the shadows, the secrets, and the violence. The clothes in this film reflect that duality. They’re rooted in classic Americana but twisted just enough to feel unsettling.
