margo

Christa Miller, who plays consummate mother and opinionated neighbor Liz on “Shrinking,” has one piece of advice for parental dressing: Step away from the athleisure.

“You’re not going to feel confident in workout wear,” says Miller. She and the show’s costume designer, Allyson B. Fanger, are very intentional with Liz’s outfits, a master class in effortless yet accessible casual chic: Bold colors, layered tops, cheeky accessories and a liberal use of stripes. “The character totally could have been [in] Lululemon, but I didn’t want to fall into that trap.” Instead, Miller says they chose to spotlight Californian brands like Clare V, Jennifer Meyer, and fittingly, Mother, styled “a little off” for looks that have become so popular that Fanger created a LookLikeLiz hashtag on Instagram for fans.

Miller is just one of the stars pulling focus for their characters’ distinctive style on shows that are contenders in the Emmys race this year: Keke Palmer (“The ‘Burbs”), Sarah Snook (“All Her Fault”), Lucy Punch (“The Audacity”), Elle Fanning (“Margo’s Got Money Troubles”) and others all have fans buzzing about their fashion. And costume designers and style experts agree that the inspiration goes both ways.

“There was this expectation that once you became a mom, the attractive parts of you got set aside because you were just a mom,” says Shana Draugelis, founder and CEO of lifestyle and shopping website the Mom Edit, which recently ran a detailed feature on Liz’s wardrobe. “With the advent of Instagram, the whole style game has just completely leveled up.”

Liz’s looks, which Miller says are inspired by “Brentwood mom” style, reflect the character’s personality. “She’s not going to work, but she does want to have a certain element of presence,” says Fanger, who is a five-time Emmy nominee for her work on “Grace and Frankie.” “But there’s also a casual component to Los Angeles dressing. Mixing levels [of designers] lends itself to uniqueness, a strong point of view and a general coolness. You never look like you’re trying too hard.”

As Samira, a city native who moves to “The ’Burbs” with her husband and baby son, Keke Palmer stands out from the cul-de-sac crowd.

(Elizabeth Morris / Peacock)

Another character with a strong fashion POV is “The ‘Burbs” Samira (Palmer), a city girl and new mom who moves with her husband Rob (Jack Whitehall) and their baby son from the city to the idyllic (and fictional) Hinkley Hills. Clad in bright, slouchy-cool separates and statement accessories, Samira quickly makes a splash among her more blandly dressed neighbors.

“She’s the only Black woman in the neighborhood,” says the show’s costume designer, Trayce Gigi Field, who pulls quite a bit of, yes, Mother, but also likes to sprinkle in some lesser-known designers like Good ’Ol Whats-her-face jeans. She also paired Samira’s Howard University sweatshirt with biker shorts a la Princess Diana. “Showing her jewelry and her vibe and just having cooler clothes … it’s a great contrast to the other characters, except for Rob, [who] had the Black wife glow-up.”

Less brightly colored but no less interesting are Marissa (Snook) and Jenny (Dakota Fanning), who bond after the disappearance of Marissa’s son in an affluent Chicago neighborhood in “All Her Fault.” Their wardrobes are more subtle, yet show that there are different strata in the quiet luxury landscape. Publishing exec Jenny is well off, but nowhere near as wealthy as Marissa, who owns an accounting firm. (Perhaps not coatless “Succession” rich, but still.)

Sarah Snook, left, and Dakota Fanning connect as working moms in “All Her Fault,” albeit with subtle class distinctions between them.

(Sarah Enticknap / Peacock)

Costume designer Gypsy Taylor pulled “silks and beautiful fine wools and cashmeres” in warm toffee, chocolate and peachy tones by designers like Max Mara and Armani for Marissa, while Jenny “was a little bit more street: leather coats instead of cashmere. Or a beautiful J. Crew turtleneck as opposed to a Saks Fifth Avenue” one.

But perhaps the most amusing depiction was how Taylor contrasted the stay-at-home moms (and dads) with Marissa and Jenny, with most of the sartorial showdowns taking place during school pickups and dropoffs. “We just went hard yummy mummy on her,” says Taylor of PTA President Sarah Larsen (Melanie Vallejo). She used “too much Lululemon,” as well as Alo and PE Nation to round out the athleisure.

In “The Audacity,” Silicon Valley parents Duncan (Billy Magnussen) and Lili (Punch) portray a different kind of luxury, a casual minimalism that belies the residents’ mind-boggling net worth. “The focus is not so much showing off the wealth, but at least, you know, it’s still there,” says the show’s costume designer Farnaz Khaki-Sadigh. “So you see people like wearing a T-shirt, but it’s not your average T-shirt — more about the quality of the fabric than the designer name on it.”

As the wife of a tech magnate in “The Audacity,” Lucy Punch’s costumes tap into the ultra-minimalist luxury of Silicon Valley.

(Ed Araquel / AMC)

Finally, on the other side of the economic spectrum, there’s Margo (Elle Fanning) and her mother Shyanne (Michelle Pfeiffer) in “Margo’s Got Money Troubles.” When college student Margo unexpectedly becomes pregnant, Shyanne and Margo’s estranged father Jinx (Nick Offerman) step in; the series follows their struggle to support each other after baby Bodhi arrives.

Costume designer Mirren Gordon-Crozier says via email that her conversations with Fanning “centered around making Margo feel emotionally truthful rather than overly styled.” This meant vintage Levi’s, worn tees, thrift-store knits, “pieces that feel inherited or accumulated over time.” As for her mother, “Shyanne is much more performative. She understands the power of presentation and uses fashion almost as armor.”

But it’s not just the distinctive clothes that are uniting the people on these shows — it’s the fact that parenthood is just one aspect of these characters’ very full, very busy lives. “What does feel good to me is the fact that so many of these moms are being portrayed in Hollywood for something other than being a mom,” says Draguelis. “It just feels like being a mom is a continuation of who you are.”

“It’s already awards season again?”

So asked a Times colleague on our morning editorial call earlier this week, sharing her impression that the Oscars — which were handed out March 15 — just concluded. And though it may feel like Hollywood was awarding gold statuettes just yesterday, the Emmys wait for no man, least of all this one.

I’m Matt Brennan, editor in chief of the Envelope and I’ll be back in your inboxes for the next three weeks to share highlights from our four pre-nominations issues, starting with the June 4 edition. Whether you’re a voter prioritizing what to catch up with or an observer trying to get a handle on what’s in this year’s race, read on.

The Emmy Comedy Roundtable

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

Leave it to comedy legend Steve Carell to deliver a sage piece of advice on The Envelope’s 2026 Emmy Comedy Roundtable — without even participating in the conversation.

“Steve says this beautiful thing that characters don’t know whether they’re in a comedy or a drama,” Carell’s “Rooster” co-star Danielle Deadwyler relayed to nods of agreement and appreciation from the panel. “And that’s about as true as it gets. You bring full rigor and development and discipline to the making of a role, regardless of what genre.”

Of course, with Deadwyler, Donald Faison (“Scrubs”), Sabrina Impacciatore (“The Paper”), Justine Lupe (“Nobody Wants This”), Lamorne Morris (“Spider-Noir”) and Chris Perfetti (“Abbott Elementary”) around the table, the conversation, moderated by The Times’ Lorraine Ali, came with plenty of laughs too — about surviving bad reviews, being mistaken for other performers, breaking one’s castmates and much more. You can also watch it on YouTube here.

Meet ‘SNL’s’ resident ‘quiet little freak’

(Sela Shiloni / For The Times)

As someone who counts ex-Trump voters among my own family, “Saturday Night Live” cast member Ashley Padilla’s character in “Mom Confession” — about a stubborn MAGA parent who finally admits to her kids that she may have been wrong about the president — struck a chord with me when it aired in January. So I was delighted to see contributor Tim Grierson’s profile of the actor (and former Diane Keaton assistant) dig into what makes the sketch, like so much of her work on NBC’s variety series, tick.

“Padilla, who sports an ebullient manner and warm smile, has become a fan favorite by exploring how much humor (and tension) you can derive from stillness,” he writes. “Her best sketches … sparkle because of how expertly she builds suspense regarding where the setup is going.”

‘Margo’s Got Money Troubles’

Sex work is work. And in the right hands, it’s highly creative work. Case in point: HungryGhost, the alien alter ego Margot Millet (Elle Fanning) assumes when she launches an OnlyFans to make ends meet in “Margo’s Got Money Troubles.”

As contributor Tomris Laffly reports, the DIY artistry that brings HungryGhost to life in “Margo” reflects the layers of craftsmanship required to bring her to the screen, from hand-bedazzled cowboy boots to bulk-bought containers of turquoise eye shadow. “She’s a director,” executive producer and director Dearbhla Walsh says of Margo, an aspiring writer. “You could always see the creation [process], how Margo brought theater into her OnlyFans.”

More stories from our June 4 issue

Families, in their various flavors, have been essential to television since that light first flickered on. They may be ideal or nightmarish, or both, or in between, and we take to them — be they Waltons or Addamses or Simpsons — according to our own experience or desires, having known families of our own or wanted something other than what we had.

In “Schitt’s Creek,” Dan Levy co-created — with his father, Eugene, yet — one of the medium’s greatest family comedies. It was a show that grew over time from a basic premise about rich people who lose their money and are forced to live at close quarters in adjoining motel rooms to a paean to love, understanding and acceptance. It swept the comedy categories at the 2020 Emmys, including acting awards for both Levys, Catherine O’Hara and Annie Murphy and writing and directing trophies for Dan.

“To family” are in fact the last words spoken in the first season of “Bad Mistakes,” Levy’s noisy, funny new show, co-created with Rachel Sennott and now streaming on Netflix — though given what precedes it, it’s less a blessing than a curse. Levy plays Nicky, a pastor at a sparsely attended suburban New Jersey church of no evident denomination. He’s out as gay, but supposedly celibate; that he has a boyfriend, Tareq (Jacob Gutierrez), is known only to Tareq; this, of course, creates a secret, which will create pressure, which will create comedy.

Sister Morgan (Taylor Ortega) is an elementary school teacher, a job that doesn’t quite jibe with everything else we see about her — it’s barely represented, anyway, summer having come — and a very longtime boyfriend, Max (Jack Innanen), who has decided that now is the moment to propose. She had once tried acting in New York, which means that she lived a wilder life once and is something of an improviser. Their mother, Linda (Laurie Metcalf), who owns a hardware store, is running for mayor and the campaign is being managed by extra daughter Natalie (Abby Quinn).

The series begins as their grandmother is dying, and at Linda’s command, they rush out to buy her a present — Linda is trying to squeeze in an “early birthday” before her mother passes. And because she is that sort of person, Morgan shoplifts what she imagines is a cheap necklace from a convenience store. (Attendant Yusuf, played by Boran Kuzum, will have much to do.) The necklace isn’t cheap, it turns out, for no particularly good reason, and the convenience store isn’t just a convenience store, but a kind of waystation for stolen goods run by local Russian mobsters. As a result, Morgan and Nicky find themselves forced to run errands for them, under threat of death, or worse.

The show gets very complicated on its way to a circular semi-conclusion; there is a lot going on, with Linda’s mayoral ambitions and various relationship issues. (Elizabeth Perkins plays Max’s mother, bridging storylines.) But it’s a good ride, and classic in its way; searching the phrase “get mixed up with gangsters” brings forth a host of old comedies. Through the dodgiest situations, brother and sister do not hesitate to argue. Nicky would love to be anywhere else, while Morgan finds it invigorating. Though it is all improbable, the parts do mesh neatly; they make television sense.

Finally, the series rests on the shoulders of the three principal players, who are just a pleasure to watch; the camera obliges by moving in close. Levy brings a soft-spoken breathlessness you may recognize from his David Rose on “Schitt’s”; his softly muttered “OK,” which might just mean “stop talking,” is almost a trademark. Ortega brings a kind of poignance to her reborn wild child, while Metcalf plays Linda with a kind of small-town operatic intensity, eyes popped and pronunciation precise — she’s like a country cousin to O’Hara’s Moira Rose — as if she were onstage pitching to the back row of the theater.

Michelle Pfeiffer and Elle Fanning in “Margo’s Got Money Troubles,” premiering April 15, 2026 on Apple TV.

(Allyson Riggs/Courtesy of Apple)

In “Margo’s Got Money Problems, premiering Wednesday on Apple TV, Elle Fanning plays the title character, a college student flattered into bed by her married-with-children writing professor, Mark (Michael Angarano), despite my shouting at the screen for her not to do it. Soon she is pregnant, and soon after that the essentially single mother of baby Bodhi, unable to find work or the time to write. (As the heroine, we assume her talent.)

Presumably in search of some normalcy, Margo’s mother, Shyanne (Michelle Pfeiffer), a former good time girl — but still sparkly — has become engaged to Kenny (Greg Kinnear), Christian, square and sincere; the Ralph Bellamy of the piece, you are not asked to take him quite seriously (though Kinnear plays him straight). Shyanne’s ex-husband is Jinx, a former professional wrestler, played by Nick Offerman with the low-key affect of Ron Swanson, dialed down even further; depression and drug addiction will do that to you. Fresh out of rehab, he trades a championship belt for a motorcycle and joins the household; though he left Margo early, and unlike Shyanne, he proves to have a marvelous, easy way with Bodhi. (The baby himself, or babies — they use twins for this job — are themselves marvelous.)

Also in residence is roommate Susie (Thaddea Graham), a chirpy cosplayer — and coincidentally Jinx’s biggest fan — whose skills will become valuable as Margo, needing cash, sets off into the world of OnlyFans. First picking up tips describing followers’ penises in terms of Pokémon (no explanation has been thought necessary), she pivots to video, mounting increasingly elaborate sexy sci-fi productions alongside Susie (sets and costumes), Jinx (narrative advice, stunt coordinator) and OnlyFans veterans KC (Rico Nasty) and Rose (Lindsey Normington), a fabulous tag team to whom Margo turns for advice. (Margo does seem to take things over, but it’s her name in the title, so there you go.) This introduces an element of Mickey and Judy, my uncle’s got a barn, let’s put on a show comedy. More important, it creates a team, melding the family you make with the family you have.

It’s as sweet as can be. Apart from sleeping with one’s professor — students, do not do this! — the show is positive about just about everything: motherhood, daughterhood, professional wrestling, second chances, sex work, cosplaying and the way art shows up in strange places. Only Marcia Gay Harden, as Mark’s mother, Elizabeth, is an outright villain, and you will hate her.

The series was created by David E. Kelley (Mr. Michelle Pfeiffer), from Rufi Thorpe’s 2024 novel, once again under the umbrella of Nicole Kidman’s Blossom Films (following their collaborations on “Big Little Lies,” “Nine Perfect Strangers” and “Love & Death”), with its house style of well-upholstered capital-Q Quality (as distinct, in its pop-cult, way, from prestige). (Kidman has a small role as a wrestler-turned-lawyer and it’s been a while since I’ve seen her this well used.) “Margo’s Got Money Problems” can be terribly sentimental, almost corny — the climax is pure Hollywood — but undeniably effective. And if its mix of comedy and drama can be a little destabilizing, you won’t need to worry about where it ends up.