I’ve been putting this one off, and I think I know why.
Six of Crows is a book about six people who are very good at being other people, and Inej is the only one whose costume is also her job. Which means styling her isn’t a fun exercise in vibes. You have to go through the Menagerie to get to the good part, and I kept not wanting to.
But here’s what I couldn’t stop thinking about, and it’s the exact inverse of Alina Starkov’s wardrobe problem. Alina is dressed by people who want to own her. Inej is dressed by people who want to look at her — and then she spends the rest of the trilogy taking the looking away.
Which makes her style rules unusually concrete, and honestly a bit heartbreaking once you notice them. Nothing that catches light. Nothing that makes a sound. Nothing that stops her moving. That’s not an aesthetic. That’s recovery, wearing clothes.
Four looks. Come on.
(More Grishaverse in my best young adult books roundup.)
Look One: The High Wire
The moment: Before Ketterdam. She’s fourteen, walking a wire above a Suli caravan, and the entire point of her is to be watched. She’s good at it. Nobody has told her yet that this is a dangerous thing to be good at.
The palette: Saffron, brick red, deep marigold, warm sand, indigo. Every single colour she’ll later refuse.
- The trousers. Loose, gathered, made to actually move in — the acrobat’s working garment, not a costume version of it. Fabindia’s NUIndian Orange Cotton Dhoti is the real thing at around ₹750, in exactly the burnt-orange register I wanted. Fair warning before you click: Fabindia prices in rupees and ships from India, so budget for delivery and duty. I still think it’s the right call. A high-street “boho harem pant” is a completely different reference and photographs like a festival.
- The wrap top. Cropped, close, nothing loose enough to catch on a rope. A ribbed knit bodysuit in terracotta does the job and I genuinely don’t think the brand matters here — buy the cheap one.
- The coin necklace. Astrid & Miyu’s Blossom Coin Pendant in 18ct gold plate is the piece I’d build this look around. A stamped coin rather than a plain disc, which is right — caravan jewellery has pattern on it. Layer two or three at different lengths if you’re committing.
- Bare feet, or soft flat leather sandals. Nothing with a buckle.
Styling note: The rule here is warm, loud, unhidden. This is the only look in the whole set with movement in it, so if you’re shooting the series, shoot this one mid-turn — hair loose, everything catching light. It has to be properly joyful. That’s the whole job of this look, and you’ll see why in about four hundred words.
Look Two: The Lynx
The moment: The Menagerie. Heleen buys her, renames her the Lynx, and puts her in purple silk to be sold by the hour.
Bardugo doesn’t linger here and neither will I. But I can’t skip it, because it’s the only time in the trilogy that Inej is dressed to be looked at by someone who isn’t her, and everything in Look Three is an answer to it.
The palette: Violet, plum, sheer gold, skin. Everything liquid and everything visible.
- The slip. Reformation’s Parma Silk Dress is the shape, exactly — ankle-length silk charmeuse, adjustable straps, slim through the whole body. Check what’s in stock when you look; the purples come and go and I’ve watched them vanish twice.
- The veil. Fabindia’s Cotton Silk Woven Chanderi Dupatta drapes the way this needs to. Chanderi is sheer but slightly stiff, so it holds a shape instead of going limp. Costume-shop tulle photographs like a hen do. Same rupee caveat as the trousers.
- The arm cuff. ASOS’s gold-tone snake arm cuff sits high on the bicep, which is the point. Purely ornamental, and placed exactly where it restricts.
- Ankle bells. I went back and forth on these for a while and then decided they had to go in, because it’s the cruellest detail in the entire wardrobe: she is made to be audible. The woman who later cannot be heard at all was once fitted with bells so buyers could track her across a room. Search ghungroo anklet — this is the one thing here I couldn’t find from a brand I’d vouch for, and I looked properly.
Styling note: Style this one beautiful and wrong. Everything expensive, nothing comfortable. If you photograph it, shoot it completely still — no movement, no expression, hands placed where somebody else put them. Then don’t shoot it again.
Look Three: The Wraith
The moment: Kaz buys her contract and she becomes his spider. This is the first wardrobe she builds herself, and I love it because every choice in it is a negative one. Nothing shiny. Nothing loud. Nothing that snags.
The palette: Matte black, charcoal, soot, unpolished brown leather. No metal that shows.
- The coat, and if you buy one thing, buy this. COS’s Hooded Boiled-Wool Coat in black is so on-brief it made me laugh. Boiled wool, so matte and dense with no sheen at all. A funnel neck. A properly enveloping hood, not a decorative one. And — this is the bit that got me — a concealed zip. There is no visible hardware on this coat anywhere. It’s long, too; back length runs to about 111cm on a size S.
- The trousers. COS again, the Utility Barrel-Leg Cargo Trousers in black. Reinforced knees. Adjustable tabs at the ankle that pull the leg into a taper. Somebody at COS designed trousers for a person who climbs things and then stops the fabric flapping, and I don’t think they knew they were doing it. The zipped cargo pockets are the one loud note; if that bugs you, ARKET’s Fluid Cargo Trousers in black are the quieter version.
- The boots. Low, flat, soft-soled, entirely unremarkable. Vagabond’s Amina Chelsea boot in black leather is the plain one — elastic panels, pull tab, no buckles, no lugs. Resist the chunky Kenova that Vagabond is better known for. Deep treads are for grip, and she isn’t optimising for grip. She’s optimising for silence.
- The gloves. Dents have been making these since 1777, and the Joanna Classic Unlined Leather Glove is the right one: hairsheep leather, unlined, cut to sit close against the skin. Unlined is the whole thing — you want dexterity, not warmth. Please don’t buy driving gloves with the knuckle cutouts.
- The bag. Yes, it’s the Uniqlo one. The Round Mini Shoulder Bag went viral for a reason, and the reason happens to be the brief: it lies flat against the body and doesn’t swing. Around 4L, adjustable strap, water-repellent, and it’s holding a 4.6 average across well over a hundred reviews. Get it in black and make peace with the fact that everyone has one.
Styling note: The test for this look is simple. Could you climb a wall in it, and would anyone hear you? Everything close, everything matte, nothing that moves independently of the body. Look Two was liquid; this is dry. And no jewellery — except for what’s coming next, which is the reason I wanted to write this post at all.
The Blades: Inej’s Jewellery Is Her Faith
Right. This is the bit.
Quick context if you’ve landed here cold: over in Shadow and Bone, Alina Starkov spends three books hunting amplifiers — relics taken from rare creatures, which magnify a Grisha’s power.
Two of them she wears, and neither was her idea. The stag’s antlers are fashioned into a collar and fixed round her throat by the man who killed the animal, specifically so that he can control her through it. The sea whip’s scales become a fetter at her wrist. And the third amplifier turns out not to be an object at all — it’s Mal, and claiming it means putting a knife into the person she loves most.
That’s the shape of Alina’s power. Every increase in it costs her something that loved her, and the parts she can actually wear were fastened on by somebody else.
Inej’s knives are named after saints. Her saints, from her own faith, that nobody gave her and nobody can take off her. Sankta Alina is one of them, which is a joke Bardugo absolutely made on purpose and I refuse to believe otherwise.
So: Alina’s amplifiers are taken from things that loved her and fastened on by other people. Inej’s blades are chosen, named and carried by her alone. Same slot in the story, opposite meaning entirely. I’ve been chewing on that for weeks.
You can’t wear knives to brunch. But you can wear the theology.
1. The medallion
Monica Vinader’s Lab Grown Diamond Engravable Pendant Necklace in gold is the one, and it’s because of the engraving. You can have a name put on it. That’s not a nice extra feature here — that’s the entire concept of the character rendered in gold vermeil. Pick your saint. There’s a tiny lab-grown diamond set into it, which I’d normally argue against, but at 0.015ct it reads as a glint rather than a decoration. Five-year warranty, which feels appropriate for something you’re meant to keep.
Wear it long, so it sits under the collar.
2. The stack
Six knives, six saints. If you want the idea made literal, layer several small plain medallions on a single chain. The effect is much closer to a rosary than a necklace, and it’s gorgeous in close-up.
3. The leather
A plain wrapped leather wrist cuff. No studs, no buckle, no brand plate. It reads as a sheath if you’ve read the book and as a bracelet if you haven’t, which is exactly the register this character lives in. I couldn’t link one — everything currently on the high street has hardware on it — so this is a secondhand hunt.
Styling note: Wear all of it hidden. Under the collar, under the cuff, against the skin. That’s the point, and it’s the precise opposite of Alina, whose amplifiers are the thing everyone can see. If you shoot this, shoot it as a detail. One hand, one chain, no face.
Look Four: The Captain
The moment: She takes the ship. She’s hunting slavers, she has a crew, and for the first time since she was fourteen she’s dressing for herself. Colour comes back — but on her terms, and much darker than it was.
The palette: Look One, drained and deepened. Oxblood instead of brick. Ink instead of indigo. Salt-faded black. One thread of gold.
- The coat. Whistles’ Long Belted Wool Coat in burgundy is the deliberate opposite of the Wraith’s coat, and I chose it for that: same length, but it’s a colour, and it ties at the waist instead of hiding a zip. Pure wool, collared, two patch pockets. Wear it open and let the belt hang loose. The fastening is the least interesting thing about it.
- The trousers and boots from Look Three, unchanged. She kept the working clothes. That’s the beat — she doesn’t stop being the Wraith, she just stops being only that.
- The ear cuff. Astrid & Miyu’s Wave Ear Cuff in Gold slides on, no piercing needed. Plain, slim, no crystals — the sparkly versions in the same range fight the palette and I’d skip them. One piece, not a stack. It’s the first ornamental thing she’s chosen since the caravan and it should feel like a decision.
- The medallion, worn outside the shirt.
Styling note: Style this identically to Look Three, with two changes. The coat is a colour. The jewellery is visible. Shoot it in the same pose and the same light as Look Three and let people work it out for themselves. The entire arc lives in those two decisions.
The Thread Running Through
Two things I want to say properly, because they’re why I think she’s worth styling at all:
Every rule in Inej’s wardrobe is about perception, not taste. Matte because shine gives you away. Soft soles because noise gives you away. Fitted because loose fabric catches on things. She’s the only character in the Grishaverse whose personal style has an actual function, and I think that’s why she survives translation into real clothes better than almost anyone else in these books.
She ends up back in colour, and that’s the whole point. The Menagerie taught her that being seen was dangerous. The Wraith years taught her she could vanish. The ship is where she decides she’d rather be visible on purpose — which is a completely different thing from being visible because somebody sold tickets.
Kaz next, I think. His wardrobe is one long argument about gloves and I have a lot to say.
Prices and stock were right when I wrote this but they move fast, especially the COS pieces and the jewellery. If you build any of these, please send me photos. I mean it.
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