Category Archives: Bad Super Costumes

Courtesy of "Gone and Forgotten", I've learned that Luke Cage might have the worst-dressed Rogues' Gallery of all time. Take "Big Brother" for instance:

You have to wonder what kind of nefarious criminal enterprise requires sucking all the nipple-power out of both man boobs, channeling it back into the body via an invasive metal tube, and re-outputting through a single massive chest-eye-meganipple orifice. I do know this, however -- I don't want to be there when whatever it is comes shooting out of that thing.

Apparently recapturing his own body's effluvium is what Big Brother is all about (no wonder he's watching you, he wants to know if you're watching him!), as he's also got that nifty Mark V FlatusVac strapped to his abdomen. Again, you do not want to be present at the moment of discharge.

I'm guessing that the FlatusVac doesn't come with a noise dampener, though, requiring the use of huge 1970s headphones. So massive are his discharges that said headgear has to be strapped down with a metal bar to prevent it from flying off his head upon release. Now that's announcing your presence with authority, folks.

I'll overlook the purple and green color scheme, as his eyes are probably watering so badly he can't see straight. But his buddy the Cheshire Cat has no such excuse. It's like he took a look through Prison Fashion Weekly Magazine and thought he could really dress up the black bar look by throwing in some cat-puke orange and a red beret.

I haven't read a lot of Luke Cage comics, but I'm going to guess that most of his super villain troubles are direct karmic blowback for that popped yellow collar and bare-pecs look he's sporting. Can't we all just dress well and get along?!

I don't know a lot about Marvel's "New Universe" initiative from the late Eighties, but I do know that if there was more than one character as badly dressed as Psi-Hawk, it was doomed to fail no matter what:

If you're the main feature in a "Upskirt Hot Shots of the Marvel Universe" calendar, you're in trouble. When you combine the man-mini-skirt with the fringe, both there and on the bare-armpit leather vest, I think you're asking a lot of your enemies to be intimidated by you.

I like to think maybe that's why he went with the all-metal Extreme Batman/Wolverine Spikey Eyed Visor Helmet. Although, maybe that's actually just tin foil he donned in an effort to keep the voices in his head from making so many rude comments about the rest of his ensemble.

This particular costume variation is from a later crossover series of some sort, but he also had a regular outfit he sported:

At least this one has his ribcage covered, and the hawk helmet thing doesn't reek of the Image Nineties. But I have to take points off for that big red doohickey on his chest, which I'm assuming is supposed to be a hawk of some sort. If that's the goal, then I think someone needed to take a trip to the local zoo, because that's a lot more like a strangled ostrich or the guy in the cube next to you's hand-shadow-puppet than it is anything like any raptor I've ever seen.

Either way, it looks shocked as hell, which given the fact that it finds itself on the deck of a fringed mini-skirt-wearing Hawkman wannabe is understandable. I mean, if you're going to copy another hero from another company, set your sights high, don't settle on Hawkman for the love of Pete. And if you do, then by the spirit of Project Runway, at least end up dressed better than him!

I'm not sure why patterns on super-hero capes went out of fashion after WWII. But I feel pretty sure I can understand why star-shaped masks didn't catch on, as you can clearly see from Captain Courageous:

It looks like Aquaman is playing a practical joke on him by commanding one of his undersea friends to give him a wet, sloppy French kiss. You should love your allies, but don't, you know, "love" your allies, Captain.

The patterned cape seems off-putting to modern sensibilities since you hardly ever see them any more. I suspect part of the reason is that they're simply too busy, taking attention away from the main figure. But also, I bet they're really hard to draw properly, considering how much capes get whipped around. You'll notice in this illustration how stiff it looks, partly out of the necessity to keep the stars all aligned.

The mask ultimately is what dooms this ensemble, however. I don't care what a big fan of Starro you are, you can't go out in your fan boy cosplay headgear, folks. Especially when you're beating up Nazis -- this ain't Dragon*Con, folks!

V-Man's cape is very excited to see you:

Other parts apparently share that enthusiasm, all outlined in at-attention vertical red and white stripes. Just in case you were tempted to look away at all.

You might think this schwinging accessory is the byproduct of V-Man leaping down or the wind blowing or possibly Catwoman entering the room. But no, it is literally always like this. I don't know if his little V-Boy or V-Lad or whatever his sidekick's name is has the job of standing around with a giant fan to get it that way or what, but the cape is always standing straight up.

My alternate theory is that the cape is some sort of Venom-like alien symbiote who is actually the hero, and the human to which it's attached itself is just a mindless host. Hence the well-stocked patriotic granny-panties.

(From "V-Comics" number 1, 1942.)

Our Bad Super-Hero Costume of the Day belongs to a short-lived Golden Age character called "The Lone Warrior":

I hate to get all grammatical on your patriotic self, but you can't call yourself the "Lone" warrior if you have a sidekick. Maybe he thought if he dressed his little buddy up in exactly the same costume (except for the mask -- apparently he doesn't care if his freakishly disproportionate underage assistant gets identified), no one would notice the discrepancy.

Of course he has his own problems in the "secret" identity part of the super-hero gig, since instead of making his insignia part of his costume, he's opted instead for a daring down-to-the-navel plunging neckline revealing the scar-tissue "W" on his chest. Luckily the medical wing of the 1941 Army was too busy to notice the exact same scar-tissue "W" on the chest of their latest recruit, who also was so strong he ripped apart the strength-testing machine. Batman, this guy ain't.

The costume itself looks like he mugged a wrestler on his way home from a really bad party, and I can't help but wonder how the blue sleeves work. Is it a one-piece top with the arms sewn in, or is it an actual wrestling unitard with a bizarre undershirt of some sort?

Either way, I can't tear my eyes away from the huge shield hovering right over his crotch. The colors and the collar and the white belt make it impossible to tear your eyes away from the region. Which might have been his intent, except then I can't -- or won't -- imagine why he'd give his little buddy the same look.

Did I mention the sidekick is actually his brother? Yeah, eww, that's what I said too.

Our latest "Bad Super Costume" comes from the pages of 1943's "The Wizard", namely his super-sidekick "Roy the Super Boy". Witness the horror:

Beyond the pose and the granny-panties, the real trainwreck of this outfit is the standalone popped collar. It's so standalone that it looks more like an orphaned cape top, like maybe one time when Roy was forced to rush from the salon he got his cape caught in the door, yanking it off and leaving just this bit.

In the history of awkward relationships between grown men in tights and their underage male sidekicks, I think Roy is a real low point. I bet when Robin's starting to feel too picked on at school, he turns to his hidden autographed copy of this Roy photo to make himself feel better. Sadly, it's just as likely that Batman also has an autographed copy of this photo, also hidden away for the odd private moment ...

Maybe Dr. Wertham didn't do such a bad thing after all.

We've had a bit of a running debate recently over the costume worn by the 1940's comic book hero, "The Green Mask":

Personally, I think that overall he's got a pretty sporty look. I dig the tied back Zorro-style mask, the piping on his legs, and the roll-top gloves. I admit the colors are a bit much -- green and yellow and red and light blue and dark blue -- but at least they're muted in value so they don't leap up and poke out your eyeballs.

However, I'm posting him here on "Bad Costume Wednesday" because of his belt, which is new to the "second edition" Green Mask that was more of a Captain Marvel rip-off instead of the earlier Batman rip-off. In this version, a young boy turns into Green Mask (I think they dropped the "The" from the name) when he a) gets angry and b) says the magic words, "EEEOW". I'm not making that up. Whereas Captain Marvel turns into the mighty Shazam by uttering a name made up of the first initials of the Greek pantheon of gods, Green Mask has to make like a cat with a harelip.

Getting back to the belt -- if you have to run around with your initials on your navel like an absent-minded school boy afraid of losing his coat, you've got yourself some trouble. And call me a traditionalist, but if you have a color in your name, you ought to use that color in your logo. He's not "The Red Initials", after all.

I also don't quite get the value of having piped trousers beneath your unitard. Pants go over your underwear, big guy -- even Billy Batson didn't make that mistake.

Goldbug had a problem. He enjoyed running around town in his gangland bandana, but he also wanted to be a super villain. His brilliant solution proved he belonged in the upper echelons of crime -- fashion crime, that is:

The integrated bandana look lets him retain his street cred while still allowing him to wear spandex. Not an easy achievement, believe me.

Even better, this sartorial revolution led to another great innovation, namely patterning your chest to look like you're armored, even if you can't afford armor! It's brilliant. Imagine the intrepid heroic adventurer facing Goldbug for the first time. Assuming he or she can get over their immediate fear of the bandana -- "Will his Crip or Blood mates be jumping me if I stop him?!" -- they still might hesitate wondering if their blows will have any effect against his awesome red-and-gold, "No, it's not an Iron Man ripoff" faux body armor.

The squiggly lines in the arms and calves further serve to confuse the enemy. Is he some sort of gold-meister, or is that lava? Do I wear my asbestos underwear or do I need to rush off and double the guard at Fort Knox? That kind of hesitation can kill you in a super battle if you're not careful.

And so we salute you, Goldbug, and your combination Firestar/Spider-Man Eyes/Iron Man Armor homage. Peace out!

Extreme comics, with their hallmark attributes of blood, long finger-knives, "grim" characters with names containing words like "Night" or "Blood" or "Slayer" (or all three), might have hit their stride in the Image Nineties, but their roots go much further back. Take, for example, this awesome costume from the pages of the indie comic "Nightslayer", circa 1983:

On the one hand, I love that someone took the "What if Olivia Newton John were a transgendered rock-and-roll super-hero" concept and ran with it. On the other hand, I have a hard time taking any character not named "Rambo" seriously who sports a headband and perm.

Also, who runs around with leg bands emblazoned with snack chips? Am I supposed to be intimidated that I might get "crunched" by Doritos?

Those of you too young to remember this sort of thing, count your blessings -- we old farts took a bullet for you.

(Image via the very cool "Power Comics" Tumblr site.)

What's bright yellow and red, has no feathers, sports a set of zombie claws, and has glowing red eyes slewed up into its hairline? Why, it's a Night Bird, of course!

Because what says "night time" better than vivid primary colors? And what says "bird" better than wearing absolutely nothing that says "bird"? Throw in the fact that this guy has the arms of an orangutang and you've got a full-blown zoological disaster:

Nothing about this costume jumps out as horrible; it's all basic super-hero standard gear. It just doesn't have anything at all to do with what the character is supposed to represent, which after all is the point. I mean, it's as if this guy just found some random outfit in a box ... oh, wait:

Well. I guess that explains that.

(Images from "The Green Mask" number 6, 1940.)