At face value, Widows is a heist movie. But Steve McQueen’s long-awaited follow-up to 12 Years a Slave also tackles topics ranging from race and politics to gender issues and female empowerment through the journey of its four female leads. Based on a British crime novel and TV series, of the same name, it turns the heist trope on its head as Veronica Rawlins (Viola Davis) forms her own crew: mom of two Linda Perelli (Michelle Rodriguez), sheltered Alice Gunner (Elizabeth Debicki), and getaway driver Belle (Cynthia Erivo). As they tackle the ambitious job originally planned for men, the women embark on their own emotional journey, as supported and communicated through their character-defining wardrobes. Warning: There are some mild spoilers for Widows below.

“I wanted to show there was an arc,” says Jenny Eagan, who created the costumes for the film. “They were all having their own experience and changing.”

Perhaps taking a lead from her late husband Harry, Veronica steps into the role of boss and mentor to her own crew. Eagan mirrors that strength and confidence through a palette of clean, structured silhouettes and a black-and-white color palette.

“This is a woman that knows what works and knows what fits, but also, she mixes and matches all of that,” the costume designer says.

For instance, Veronica wears a drop-dead stunning white skirt suit by Alexander McQueen for a brief but memorable entrance to meet Linda and Alice for the first time at the spa; the jacket makes a boss appearance later, paired with black Michael Kors flared trousers, when she pays a critical visit to local political scion Jim Mulligan (Colin Farrell).

“She’s such a dynamic actor, as well, that she brought so much. You didn’t need to do a lot for her,” says Eagan, who largely avoided patterns on Davis to bring focus onto both the actress and the character.

Veronica does have one notable colorful moment in the film: She wears a bright red blouse by Stella McCartney for a visit to the home of Amanda (Carrie Coon), the third widow who declined the spa day invitation—and there’s a specific reason for her choosing it.

“It was this woman knowing something maybe that she didn’t want to know,” explains Eagan. “So it was almost like a power move. A lot of people wear red, especially in politics, for power.”

There’s another fashion moment that carries some subtle meaning for Veronica. Eagle-eyed viewers may catch a recurring nature motif in her wardrobe—like when she strays from her signature minimalism for a leaf-printed wrap dress, or when she accessorized with a pair of twig-shaped gold earrings by Paula Mendoza at a spa. It’s meant to represent Veronica as “grounded in earth a little bit,” according to Eagan: “That was just me, thinking about character in my brain—little tidbits I’m doing that I don’t tell anybody.”

Jewelry as a tell also helps character-build for third generation Polish-American Alice, who’s physically and emotionally abused by thuggy husband Florek (Jon Bernthal) and mother (Jackie Weaver): She’s always seen wearing a cross pendant.

“I would never have left the trailer without that cross because it would be like a piece of [Alice] was missing,” Debicki, who plays Alice, tells Glamour.

The Australian actress, whose father is Polish, pulled from her own heritage to collaborate with Eagan on Alice’s costumes: Thinking about women in her own family, she was “very specific” about the clothes Alice would wear at home with Florek; the costume designer would then run with it, picking out certain pieces—like an intentionally-flimsy leopard-print robe and fluffy pink slippers—meant to reflect Debicki’s insight.

“I remember when we were doing the fitting, we put this robe on and the slippers, and suddenly I felt like: This was Alice, like she was there,” says Debicki.

Alice probably undergoes the most extensive wardrobe evolution to support her own character-building journey—something you see, specifically, when she succumbs to pressure from her mother to become an escort.

On her first “date,” she teeters (and looks visibly awkward) in a gold bandage dress and strappy heels. “It was all part of the character. It was this dress and she didn’t know how to wear a dress like that,” says Eagan, imagining that Alice’s mother would have given her the presumably out-of-budget Hervé Leger piece for the occasion.

“I felt so uncomfortable in it because [the dress is] so revealing, you feel more naked in it than you feel with clothes on,” Debicki remembers. “Psychologically, it did everything to me, as the actor wearing it, as it does to the character.”

When she starts undertaking the demanding heist prep tasks assigned to her by Veronica, Alice’s wardrobe changes with her. To buy an unmarked van at an unfamiliar car auction scenario, she relies on her cross pendant plus an attention-grabbing leopard print bomber, mesh sweater, skinny jeans, and gold buckle belt, to help her stand out. For her next mission, at gun show, her ruffled, dusty rose top and sailor-front white flared trousers at first seem impractical and totally out of place—“I remember when Jenny pulled out the white denim, I was like, ‘you’re killing me!’” laughs Debicki—but they’re meant to express her vulnerability, to hopefully inspire empathy and assistance from a fellow show-goer to cop three Glocks.

“She’s gotten smart,” says Eagan of Alice. “Maybe Veronica’s character taught these girls some confidence and strength: ‘If you want it, you’ve got to go after it.’” As she continues to gain confidence, strength, and self-respect, Alice’s decorative flared trousers evolve into functional skinny jeans and towering heels switch out for nimble flats.

When it came to Rodriguez’s costumes to embody the motherly Linda, Eagan really played against the actress’ perceived “uniform” of rugged moto jackets and sporty tank tops, like the ones she wore in 2000’s Girlfight or the Fast & Furious franchise. “Michelle was so much fun [to dress],” the costumer says. “Getting into it was different than we’d seen in awhile for her.”

Busy with two young children and running a quinceañera dress boutique, Linda initially wears pleasant florals and easy chambray layers. “She’s softening herself to welcome people and make them feel comfortable when they’re paying for a business to give them clothes,” explains Eagan. Her jewelry is simple: a delicate cross celebrating her cultural background and family’s dedication to church.

Her palette and silhouettes strengthen and streamline as the movie progresses to a more office-friendly sleeveless blouse and pencil skirt for an intel mission to tougher skinny jeans and denim jackets, like the rest of the women.

“They all just started to dress for the job at hand,” Eagan says.

Then, there’s Belle—Linda’s on-call babysitter, a hairstylist and single-mom that gets the call to be the group’s driver. Eagan describes her wardrobe as “strength all the way through”: “She can’t afford to spend money on lots of clothes, but she works her workout gear—her athleisure—into her wardrobe.”

Not wanting to waste money on taxis to save for her young daughter’s future and living in a rough Chicago neighborhood, Belle regularly power runs to catch the bus for her on-call babysitting jobs late at night.

While costume helps differentiate each character, it also helps bring the women together, visually and mentally, for the pinnacle moment in the film, where they’re all seen wearing heist suits custom-designed by Eagan.

“It was a uniform and we were connected,” says Debicki. “There was this gender-neutrality to it, which I found—after playing Alice for a good few weeks, months—really liberating.”

Each one was made to fit each actress’ specific figure, and incorporate stylistic details to enhance the scene: “I wanted a little bit of sheen to it, so the light picked it up,” Eagan notes.

The coordinated gender-neutral suits and face-obscuring masks also, in a way, equalize the four women, who come from different backgrounds and socioeconomic statuses in that moment. The utilitarian, oversized silhouette enabled the them to “look and move like men,” per Veronica’s directive, and serve as a functional layer to quickly peel off to “disappear into the crowd”— and their brighter opportunities, after the heist.

That jumpsuit stripped away “that thing that the women grapple with” throughout the movie, Debicki adds: “We felt the power of that when we were wearing those costumes, too.”

With Eagan’s cerebral approach to costume, a jumpsuit is so much more than a jumpsuit—it’s a rumination on the group’s mindset, their development, and their transition from newly-widowed women to heist planners.

“That’s the beauty of Jenny,” says Debicki. “There’s not a single piece of fabric on that screen that has not been deeply, psychologically analyzed.”