What Bob Dylan Wore: How ‘A Complete Unknown’ Captures the Style of a Generation

In the opening scenes of A Complete Unknown, the Bob Dylan biopic starring Timothée Chalamet, the 19-year-old singer adjusts his folk-era Dutch boy cap as he steps into Greenwich Village, then an artistic and anti-establishment hub.

“Like so many young artists, Bob shows up in New York City with just a hope and a prayer,” says the film’s costume designer Arianne Phillips. “But, in his case, a backpack and a guitar case.”

Phillips reunited with director James Mangold for the film after receiving one of her three Oscar nominations for his 2005 Johnny Cash biopic, Walk the Line (a Cash character makes an appearance in A Complete Unknown, too—depicting the time the legendary singers’ paths crossed). The film covers the pivotal first four years of Dylan’s prolific career, when he revolutionized folk music by infusing introspective, personal lyrics with traditional and politically charged protest themes. The envelope-pushing artist then transformed the folk movement by introducing electric instruments at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965.

Along the way, Bob’s intentional wardrobe—a political statement in itself—reflects the musical, ideological, and style influences that helped shape his legendary persona. “Bob stepped into this bubbling youth culture movement in the ’60s, with the Civil Rights Movement and anti-war protests,” Phillips says. “He just found himself in the center of it.” Bob’s sartorial arc also serves as a cue through three chapters of Mangold’s narrative. As Phillips says, “The costumes really help guide the audience through this story.” Here’s how:

Bob’s Statement-Making Levi’s

Jeans play an integral role in the counterculture rebellion of the early ’60s, as well as in Bob’s wardrobe. “Dressing protocol then was straight out of the ’50s, and here you have Bob Dylan adopting denim dungaree work pants as his everyday dress,” says Phillips. “[Bob’s denim] was the throughline that really grounded my design.”

Bob arrives in New York City on a mission to meet his folk music hero, Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy). Channeling the “This Land Is Your Land” singer-songwriter, Bob is basically dressed for the job he wants. “His carpenter jeans and his Pendleton shirts [were] in line with the worker, proletariat, and early-folk movement that Guthrie is pretty much the father of,” says Phillips. Bob first breaks into the 1961 downtown folk scene in slouchy, faded jeans reflecting the functional uniform of the working class: construction crew, fishermen, cowboys, and their lyrical representative Guthrie. “That very ‘American’ look.”

Reading Freewheelin’ Time: A Memoir of Greenwich Village in the Sixties, the 2009 tome by Dylan’s first love, Suze Rotolo, Phillips learned that Dylan continuously branded himself through his style. “Bob really curated that look for himself,” she says.

The Jeans They Are a-Changin’

Circa ’62, Bob moves into his second chapter after meeting artistic activist Sylvie (Elle Fanning), who’s based on Rotolo. “She encouraged him to write social justice songs,” says Phillips, referring to Dylan’s 1963 iconic works, the anti-military critique “Masters of War” and poignant call for peace, “Blowin’ in the Wind.” With a new focus, Bob pares down his denim while incorporating trademarks of counterculture artists: ribbed turtlenecks, cotton button-ups, and beat-up suede jackets. “He’s wearing these slimmer yet classic jeans,” says Phillips.

To meticulously recreate Dylan’s denim styles for Chalamet, she reached out directly to Levi’s Collections Design Director Paul O’Neill, who, in 2019—when early prep began—headed up the specialty Vintage Clothing Collection. In their deep research, the duo also pinpointed and emulated a personalized DIY fix. “In Dylan’s ’63 photos, he had this denim patch on the inside leg of his jeans. [O’Neill] told me that Suze Rotolo had made that patch, so his jeans fit over his boots,” says Phillips, comparing the adjustment to a precursor to the ’70s boot cuts.

Later, “Dylan had gone to London and hung out with [Scottish folk-pop icon] Donovan, and he was a fan of The Beatles,” says Phillips. (Not depicted in the movie: Dylan first met the Fab Four in NYC in August of 1964 and allegedly introduced them to pot.)

“You see Bob notably make a change in 1965 with the very mod look. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, tab collar bespoke shirts, and very skinny silhouettes,” says Phillips, who also worked with O’Neill to recreate Dylan’s cutting-edge, mid-’60s “Super Slims” for Chalamet.

Sylvie’s Festival-Ready Break-Up Dress

To emphasize Sylvie’s East Coast roots, Phillips dressed Fanning in mostly dark colors and trouser outfits appropriate for protests and marches. Sylvie’s faux fur-trimmed and embroidered suede coat—a vintage Etsy find—resembles a thrifted traditional Romanian coat that Dylan had bought for Rotolo (as seen in a 1963 photo). Phillips also designed a shearling-trimmed camel cropped coat for Bob, imagining that Sylvie bought that for him. “It’s a bit of storytelling that Jim, Elle, and I found very touching,” says Phillips.

Bob reluctantly skyrockets to fame following the release of his 1963 breakout album, The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, to the detriment of the duo’s relationship. But in 1965, Sylvie agrees to accompany him to his groundbreaking Newport performance. She takes the risk in a light blue and yellow ombré print prairie dress.

“I wanted to have a vulnerability and an emotional quality,” says Phillips. She hunted down a vintage Marimekko fabric with a “wheat fields”-reminiscent pattern and cut the swath for the “degradé” effect. “It reminded me of a Mark Rothko painting. Emotionally, it underscored the tumultuous feelings of the scene. It has a sweetness to it without being naive.”

Joan Baez’s Forward-Thinking Style

Another influential woman in Bob’s career and romantic life: pioneering folk singer Joan Baez. Played by Monica Barbaro, Baez uses her established platform to catapult Bob into stardom as they develop a deeper connection—as seen during their intimate duet at the 1963 Monterey Folk Fest.

“Joan was famous already—she was on the cover of Time magazine—and she traveled a lot, so I pushed her fashion a bit to harken what was to come with the flower child era,” says Phillips. For the duet, Joan, in her rich jewel tones signaling her West Coast roots, wears a period-correct hop sack dress with an embroidered flower pattern and a shorter hemline. “Just to keep Joan a little bit ahead of the curve,” Phillips adds.

In the movie’s final scenes, Joan’s vinyl-linen raincoat also points toward fashion’s future. Phillips discovered that Baez wore a similar raincoat in a Richard Avedon-lensed 1965 black-and-white photo for an album cover. After a forensic-level investigation involving curators at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, she traced the origin back to a high street collection by Mary Quant. Phillips presumed Baez bought it on a shopping jaunt across the pond, loved it, and wore it later for Avedon’s New York City shoot. (A smiling Baez was also photographed in the jacket, next to a swaggy-looking Donavan, at Newport in 1965.) Joan’s coat, custom designed by Phillips, contrasts with the folksy suede fringed jacket worn earlier on-stage, layered over a recreation of a white pleated dress that Baez wore to the fest in 1964.

“This is like the beginning of Carnaby Street and Twiggy and mod,” says Phillips. “Bob also is adopting that style.”

Timothée Chalamet’s Polka Dot Directive

At the end of the film, Bob defies the folk establishment and mentor Pete Seeger (Edward Norton) to hit the 1965 Newport stage with—gasp—an electric instrument-powered band. Along the way, a green polka dot shirt serves as a harbinger for the film and real life. “Dylan really did wear that shirt, and I wanted it in the movie because it points beyond ’65. To this day, Bob Dylan likes polka dots and stripes,” says Phillips. But, “when I showed Jim Mangold [the shirt], he’s like, ‘Oh, that’s too crazy. Let’s have Al Kooper wear it. Not Bob.”

To give the shirt a backstory, Mangold’s script depicts Bob and his edgy new electronic guitarist-keyboardist Al Kooper (Charlie Tahan) shopping in a boutique stocked with more vibrant, flamboyant fare. “Never seen threads like this!” exclaims Bob. In real life, Dylan wore the shirt during a daytime sound check at Newport (and on the cover of a 1966 EP.) But, Kooper ends up wearing it on stage for the game-changing electronic set, as the movie also portrays.

In the film’s final cut, before the transformative ’65 performance, Bob throws the shirt on for a heated argument with Pete about his impending electronic revolution. “[The shirt] was wholly Timmy. Because Timmy and I really liked that shirt, and Jim vetoed Timmy wearing it,” says Phillips. “Then Timmy made that suggestion, and Jim was cool with it. He’s very collaborative in that way.”

Chalamet clearly has an instinct because the shirt’s mint green hue, bold print, and blouse-y, puff sleeves oppose Pete’s staid folksy plaids—like a metaphor for future versus past and an advocate for change.

“This is a story about a young man who’s an artist that refuses to be defined by one thing,” says Phillips, whose music bonafides include styling concert tours for the chameleonic Madonna. “As an artist, you should have the right to constantly evolve and not be defined by one genre of music.”

A Complete Unknown is in theaters Christmas Day.