Review: INTIMATE APPAREL, Donmar Warehouse
Photo credit: Helen Murray
Born from a moment of quiet discovery, Intimate Apparel began when writer Lynn Nottage came across photographs of her great-grandmother Ethel from the early 1900s, tucked between the pages of a magazine. Inspired by fragments of family stories passed down through generations, Nottage pieced together a narrative that gives voice to the lives of Black working women so often erased from history.
Directed by Lynette Linton, Intimate Apparel is a quietly powerful portrait of a woman that history has largely overlooked. Set in 1905 New York, it follows Esther (Samira Wiley), a Black seamstress who makes exquisite corsets for women across social and moral divides, from wealthy white ladies to sex workers, while quietly harbouring dreams of financial freedom, love and stability.
Samira Wiley delivers a standout performance as Esther: tender, fierce and heartbreakingly open. She captures the loneliness and resolve of a woman carving out her life, one careful stitch at a time. Esther’s interactions with the women she dresses — including the warm but weary Mayme (Faith Omole) and the tightly wound Mrs Van Buren (Claudia Jolly) — reflect the many ways that women endure, adapt and continue to dream. Nicola Hughes also impresses as the landlady Mrs Dickson, grounding the production with wry humour and pragmatic wisdom. All three actors offer performances rooted in truth and authenticity.
The staging is intentionally spare. Alex Berry’s minimalist set and warm lighting evokes both intimacy and constraint. The costumes, particularly Esther’s carefully stitched corsets, serve as symbols as well as storytelling tools. Every piece of fabric, lace or bead is delicate yet resilient, much like Esther herself.
Esther’s growing connection with Mr Marks (Alex Waldmann), an Orthodox Jewish fabric salesman, introduces tenderness and longing. Their relationship reveals the complexity of the period — shaped by prejudice, desire and a shared reverence for craftsmanship.
In stark contrast, Kadiff Kirwan’s George, a labourer from Barbados whose charm has curdled over time, reminds us that even those with shared heritage can reinforce systems of control. His actions lay bare how racism, misogyny and classism intersect to restrict the lives of women like Esther.
The second act occasionally edges towards melodrama and loses some of the first act’s subtlety. However, it never lets go of the emotional centre, allowing space for silence and stillness to speak as powerfully as the dialogue.
This is a story that deserves to be seen. It highlights the strength and resilience of Black women in the face of social and economic oppression — a history that has too often been neglected. These are lives and legacies that should occupy centre stage.
Intimate Apparel is a moving, beautifully performed story of quiet resistance and unrecognised labour, stitched together with precision and care. It lingers long after the final scene.
***** Five stars
Reviewed by: Aleeza Humranwala
Intimate Apparel plays at London’s Donmar Warehouse until 9 August, with further info here.
