By Lavanda Contrabanda
When I told my dad I was designing a robot and clown costume, his response was, “So, you’re making a CLOBOT?” And that, dear reader, is how the name for my most experimental costume to date was born. This is the story of how I brought it to life.
As a conceptual designer, I thrive on storytelling. If what I’m creating doesn’t invite people to reflect on their own fantasies, it’s just not that interesting to me. Now, that’s not to say I don’t appreciate a red carpet moment where a gown trails for miles, leaving everyone gasping for air. (Remember that iconic Met Gala moment in ’23 when Rihanna wore Guo Pei and the internet turned her into a human omelette? Pure genius.)
But when it came to designing the Clobot, I needed more than just a visual spectacle. The idea came together when I met Cleo Reed, a New York-based music artist. Sometimes, these moments happen in an almost magical, energetic burst of creativity. Cleo had an upcoming performance at Lincoln Center and was hunting for something unique. One of Cleo’s most distinctive alter egos in their styling is the clown, which I knew had to stay front and center in the design. But then, during one of our chats, they told me about performing on the stage alongside Bina48, a humanoid robot powered by AI.
The concept behind Bina48 blew my mind—here was an AI created from the mind files of an African American woman, designed to be socially intelligent. If they try to make a robot look human, I thought, why not flip it and make a human—aka Cleo—look like a robot? At the time, I was deep into a digital skills course, learning basics of software engineering and AI. Reflecting on these two seemingly opposing interests inspired me to merge them into something cohesive. That’s when the vision clicked: “What if I make you a clown of the future?”. One of the hardest parts of collaboration is getting people to see the vision through my eyes. All I could do was say, “Trust me, it’s going to be epic!” And, bless Cleo, they did.
A little confession: my favorite part of being a costume designer is finding clever ways to cheat. Sorry, Chanel, but I’m not flying in hand-woven silks from Italy to make it happen. C for Costume, C for… Creative Shortcut! (Trademark pending.)
I already had experience in clown couture—having sent a troupe of Edwardian-inspired clowns down the runway for my 2019 fashion university graduation show. But this time, I needed it to be chrome. Futuristic, metallic, and reflective—because when you say “robot,” people expect silver.
I consulted with some of my go-to fabrication experts. “I need a clown collar that reflects light like armor,” I said. “Use silver lycra,” they suggested. Silver lycra? Please. Do you really expect me to make the easiest and obvious choice? If I’m going to make something chrome, it needs to be chrome with a capital ‘C’.
So, I took a gamble. I found reflective chrome paper in the home decor section (apparently, people want their furniture to look like it’s from outer space—who am I to judge?). I ordered the rolls and got to work, fast. The performance was just weeks away, and I didn’t have time to second-guess my material choices.
Without diving too deep into the nitty-gritty (because a) I don’t want to bore you, and b) I’m not giving away my secret weapons), the CLOBOT was ready by showtime and safely shipped to New York. Fun fact: I always dreamed of visiting the Big Apple, but my costumes made it there first. The neck collar gleamed like metal, bending and folding in ways that made people ask, “Is that… actual chrome?” Mission accomplished. I mean, the collar might’ve been fabric, but hey—illusion is half the art, right?
In the end, we created something bold: a visual representation of a futuristic clown that was distinctively me. It wasn’t just unique to Cleo; it was unique to Lavanda Contrabanda—a mix of bold experimentation, futuristic materials, and a little rebellious flair.
Turns out, the future of fashion is part robot, part clown—and a whole lot of imagination.
