Interview with Cosplayer Maryna Matlock

Character, Transformation & Pageantry

Maryna Matlock spends her days propounding the joys of English literature and fairy tales to young students. Her after hours are another story — a story peopled with comic book heroes, crafty villains, and a troop of Disney personalities. She took a break from grading papers and gluing sequins to whisk us behind the scenes in a world where two-dimensional characters come to walking, talking, flesh and bone life.

At what stage of life did you get into cosplay?

I’ve been involved with different aspects of fashion and costume design for what feels like my whole life—from pulling scraps of sequined fabric out of a dress-up trunk to hand-stitching my own wardrobe for a junior high drama project, from sketching out designs for my newest pageant gown to fixing crystals across the bodice of my competition dress for the next figure skating competition. Halloween in my family has never been merely a day—it’s a production. And my friends and I continue to structure birthdays, holidays, and sundry other wacky get-togethers in ways that allow us to continue “playing dress-up.” Probably, though, I first recognized a transition from costuming to cosplaying in my freshman year of college when I volunteered to work a local children’s event as Cinderella. My costume was cobbled together of various existing pieces from my closet that my mom and I reworked: the poufy sleeves from a shimmery top, a satin skirt from a piano recital of long ago, a bejeweled choker from a past figure skating routine. It was a blast to work creatively with my mom on this project, and she has remained involved in each of my subsequent creations—just as she always has been, since the very first Halloween costume. Sometimes, she even cosplays herself!

How would you define cosplay to someone who knows nothing about it?

If you show up for a party dressed like a character, but you’re still speaking and acting like yourself, then you’re just wearing a costume. When you become the costume, when you embody the character as you would were you playing a theatrical part, that’s when, to my mind at least, costume becomes cosplay.

I play a different number of characters every year—it just depends what groups my friends and I decide to form and which conventions I end up attending. If an event lasts three days, I will play a minimum of three different characters over the course of that particular con. I consistently play one character at every convention, though, and that’s Ariel, from Disney’s The Little Mermaid. I’ve lost track of how many variations of Ariel costumes I’ve accumulated—nine? ten?—and I’m always thinking about the next one! For the “girl who has everything,” Ariel didn’t even have that many costume changes in the original movie! But that’s precisely what’s so fun and endlessly inspiring about cosplay—being able to take something that already exists and put your own signature on it. Like Ariel’s, my collection is never quite complete! As an ardent Disneyphile, playing a Disney character is a given for me. If I’m left to my own devices, I will always show up as some princess or villain from the Disney oeuvre. My friends and I have come to acquire our own cosplay group identity, as well, so we’ll often collaborate on certain sets—like characters from DC or Marvel Comics. Last year, we channeled a rather obscure trio of Victorian women from the NBC television series Dracula that nobody recognized—even though we had those telltale lightbulbs to illuminate the reference. (Groan. That was a pretty terrible pun.)

How would you describe the cosplay community?

Passionate, talented, vibrant, and encouraging are the words that immediately come to mind. The spirit of a con buzzes with the enthusiasm of fans and cosplayers, all of whom are bound

image: Jamileh Miller, of Illusion Studioz Photography

Three distinct takes on The Little Mermaid

Before stumbling upon the wonderfully wacky world of cosplay, I circled in a different world altogether—pageantry. I have dozens of gowns just lying about, growing velvety with dust. Right now, my project is to upcycle my closet—to give all those musty ghosts new lives as cosplay pieces. Naturally, I’ve preserved a handful of gowns that have accumulated strong sentimental value from my former pageant life, but the rest will be playfully recommissioned. Some gowns have to be totally restructured: one icy blue dress, strewn with thirty pounds of crystals and beads, will be transformed with sheer sleeves and a glittering train to become Elsa’s iconic Frozen gown (after all, Queen Elsa certainly saunters like a pageant queen!). Other gowns merely need a few tweaks to

by their admiration for art— the art of comics or of film, of television or of animation, or simply of the creative enterprise itself. In addition to providing a venue for the celebration of art, of course, I think conventions also (and maybe even primarily) provide a forum to celebrate the fans and their expressive ingenuity. You know how, when you catch those red carpet award shows, the reporters are always asking the celebrity arrivals, “Who are you wearing?” The question at cons seems to be, “What are you wearing? How did you make that?” Attendants are truly interested in one another, and genuinely fascinated by the process of creation. The air is electric, zipping with energy and crepitating with the power of imagination. There’s nothing else quite like it!

be effective: my cosplay of Anastasia’s sapphire opera gown from the 20th Century Fox animated film was complete simply with the addition of a shimmering Watteau train and a pair of long white gloves. In addition to Elsa’s dress, I’m also upcycling other gowns for Ariel and—you know what? It’s just occurred to me I have something that would make for an excellent Yzma! Thanks, La Vie Sirene!

What's the most amazing cosplay you've ever seen?

It’s impossible to choose—but I’m a sucker for spectacle, so the more outlandish the costumes, the better! At last year’s C2E2 in Chicago, I was blown away by a duo cosplaying as Alien and Predator. However, my favorite cosplay from that event was a different species of extraterrestrial altogether: Experiment 626. My brilliantly talented friend spent that Saturday sweltering inside her handmade Stitch costume (from Disney’s Lilo and Stitch). She had to endure those galumphing booties, that stifling fur suit, and the ponderous papier-mâché head all afternoon as our group meandered around the convention floor, guiding our beloved Stitch by the glove and trying not to get ourselves (or others) impaled by the fluffy alien’s protruding ears. My friend’s design was technically aweinspiring, no doubt—but the adoration it inspired in the event attendees is the reason Stitch is the most amazing cosplay I’ve witnessed. I’ve never seen anything like the way everyone—kids and adults alike—went wild over Stitch. Everybody wanted a hug and a picture and another hug again, and our Stitch delighted each and every request. It must have been sweltering inside that giant blue suit, but Stitch never turned anyone away. That’s what cosplay is all about—sharing what you love and sharing in smiles.

Has cosplay taught you anything about yourself? And if so, what?

It might seem paradoxical, but I firmly believe that “being someone else” through cosplay teaches you more about becoming your own truer self than it does anything else. As an English teacher, I’m often talking to my students about the power of story—about the resonance traditional tales (like myths and fairy tales) lend our lives. I’m not the most resolute of Joseph Campbell’s proselytes by any means, but I do believe the mythologist was right when he recognized that young people “just grab this stuff”—everybody does. We are all, always, hungry for story. In a sense—and to paraphrase Jeanette Winterson (who, I should clarify, was not talking about costumes!) —imaginatively inserting ourselves into archetypal narrative structures helps us to fulfill certainly necessary roles in our own lives, to be our own heroes. By donning a cosplay persona, you take charge of the representation, you take control of an identity— not only the character’s, but your own. And as Winterson goes on to note, that mastery cultivates self-confidence, not only empowering but inspiring us to contribute meaningfully to the community.

I see this microcosmically every semester, when I encourage my students to DisneyBound in class. Bounding is a little like cosplay-lite: bounders do not don a costume but rather channel a character through their own casual, quotidian outfits that are somehow allusive (perhaps through cut or color) to the target character. We take our inspiration from the DisneyBound Tumblr blog, but we also open up the field to non-Disney characters, as well. Amazingly, this activity has come to be one of the strongest tools in my pedagogical arsenal, as it allows students to express themselves while sharing what they love in a fun and welcoming environment—in short, a cosplay environment. The activity encourages students to bring their authentic selves to the classroom and to recognize the inherent value of

everything they have to contribute—from their opinions to their intellectual passions. After Bounding Day, the sense of community in our classroom positively blossoms. The experience is a revelation for all of us, and students continue to talk about the impact this experience has had on them long after they’ve finished the course.

Do you have favorite cosplayers?

Teachers are always saying that we don’t “play favorites” (even though some of us may secretly pick them!). My classroom is a favorites-free zone, but I’ll readily admit to my own bias in the cosplay arena. Firstly, my friends—my buds, my cheerleaders and therapists, my wizards and geniuses, my Creeptopolites (you know who you are!). Cosplay would feel so hollow if it weren’t filled with our friendship and wild antics—not to mention our resplendent sartorial successes and disastrous debacles! And secondly, while I don’t follow any particular cosplayers outside of those in my own circle, I frequently turn to various fashion designers and costume artists for inspiration. Etsy is a fantastic forum to search for and follow some truly amazing designers—particularly when it comes to Disney-themed cosplay. But the biggest, loudest, and most obnoxious shoutout I can muster belongs to Cassie, my personal fairy godmother of Glimmerwood. I want to wear everything she has ever dreamt up— every day, if possible. (No one will care if I show up to class looking like Tinker Bell, right? There’s nothing in the dress code about wings!) I’m thrilled to say that Cassie has leant her pixie dust and her exquisite touch to one of my own dream dresses, which I’ll be debuting later this year.

What's your dream cosplay character?

Ideally? My dream cosplay opportunity is to audition for the Walt Disney Company and be selected to, essentially, “cosplay full-time” as a face character at a Disney park. Every time I’m out in costume and can’t take a single step for the throng of children that seem to materialize right out of the air to cluster around my feet and to reach up for a hug, I’ve gotten a taste of what performing as a face character at the Disney parks must feel like—and I am thoroughly convinced it must be the best feeling in the world. This year, I had the opportunity to visit Disneyland at Halloween— one of the few occasions on which adults may be admitted to the park in costume—and the experience was nothing short of breathtaking. Standing spellbound in the enchanted glow of Sleeping Beauty’s castle and arrayed in the sumptuous velvets and twinkling crystals of Elsa’s coronation gown, I felt like I was part of something inexpressibly special—I felt like I was part of the magic. I get chills just remembering it! The best part, of course, were the fluttering shrieks of little girls as they rocketed towards me—always preceded by a dazzling smile to light their way. I returned each of their overjoyed tears and eager little hugs that night with some of my own, and I still carry the precious thrill of those moments in my heart. Even out of costume, I am constantly approached by children who are convinced I’m Elsa and who follow me around the grocery store like my personal entourage of shadow ducklings! So, needless to say, auditioning has been on my mind more often than not these days, and the possibility of working for the Disney Company in this capacity would be a literal dream-come-true. In the meantime, I’ll continue doing the very next best thing. In the meantime, I’ll slip on an icy gown or nestle a dinglehopper into my bag. And I’ll keep on singing that song, the promise that’s taken up residence in my heart: “Watch and you’ll see / Someday I’ll be / Part of your world!”