Shaping Character: Designing the Cast

When I set out to make Hidden Curves, I wanted it to feel like a sultry, suspensible noir mashed with a fun and expressive retro cartoon. A story that could play with all the dark, sexy tropes of 1940s crime thrillers — but drawn in a way where the comedy and style could still lead the way. Something with a moody atmosphere and dramatic character work but still didn’t take itself too seriously.

When it came to designing the cast, I gave myself permission to stretch proportions and body shapes. I wanted to create a lineup where every silhouette stood apart and you could tell 90% of who someone was just by looking at them. Comics is a visual medium after all. A good character design should do most of the talking before the dialogue kicks in. And by letting go of strict realism, I tried to let the personalities shine through — make everything feel just a little larger than life.

As I talked about in my last post, Viola Delaine’s design is built around softness — round shapes and curves, meant to contrast the cold, hard lines of Chromopolis. She’s curvy but insecure, hiding behind her oversized fur coat, though even that can’t hide much. I leaned into 1950s working-class style: collared blouses, flared skirts, kitten heels. The headband, freckles, and expressive eyes give her that approachable, girl-next-door quality, while the short haircut pushes back a little — a quiet kind of rebellion and a way to downplay her femininity. She’s someone you’d probably overlook in a crowd — until she steps into the spotlight. Her design takes bits from Audrey Hepburn, Betty Boop, and Anita Loos, but with an exaggerated mid-century bombshell bod.

Vivian Fontaine was built to be her foil — tall, angular, put-together. She’s drawn with clean, sharp lines. She’s precise and professional. Her outfit’s more modern than what women actually wore in the ’40s, but if anyone’s ahead of the curve, it’s a French fashion designer. Think Coco Chanel meets Colette from Ratatouille. She’s someone who’s learned to survive by being sharp — a product of an industry that punishes softness.

Rocky Carbone is a brick wall in a pinstripe suit. His shape is square — a cinderblock of a man. I gave him huge hands, a thick neck, a head like a slab of concrete, and little legs that look like they were added last. I wanted to keep him cartoonish enough to feel larger than life, but grounded in that old-school mob boss look. He’s a 1940’s James Gandolfini if a Looney Tunes anvil fell on his head — a guy who doesn’t move, doesn’t bend, and doesn’t say more than he has to.

John Charmer is a mix of noir archetypes — the flirtatious coworker, the undercover gumshoe, and the haunted WWII vet. From his dumb alias to his tired eyes and unshaven face, it’s clear he’s playing a role. He’s a guy who’s not as slick as he thinks he is. I gave him an athletic build and boyish features to set him apart from Rocky and Nero — he’s not a brute, he’s not a showboat. He’s someone else trying to take off the mask, drawn to Viola because she’s doing the same — even if his intentions are questionable.

If Rocky is the old world, Nero Carbone is the sleazy future. Slim and serpentine, he’s styled like a Vegas showman meets mafia prince. Loud checkered jacket, wide-legged pants, sunglasses — all ego. More style than substance. He’s got some Christopher Moltisanti in him, a little Danny Vermin, a little Johnny Fontaine — then tossed in a cartoon blender with Ace from Powerpuff Girls and the Joker from Batman: The Animated Series. Real-world influences includethe mobster Bugsy Siegel as well as Frank Sinatra — especially the parts people try not to talk about.

The three models at Elegance Noir are each styled after different types of mid-century femininity.

Rebecca Rosso is the classic redhead bombshell — confident, grounded, and probably the most emotionally stable of the group. She’s in this for financial security and doesn’t make any bones about it.

Natalia Hill is the femme fatale — dark eyes, a cigarette always hanging from her lips and legs for days. She’s Sicilian, a queen in her own mind, always scheming for what she thinks she’s owed. Once she gets tied up with Nero, she becomes a reflection of his ambition and toxicity. I pulled from Virginia Hill for her — Bugsy Siegel’s infamous girlfriend.

Anita Bergman is the dreamer. Wide-eyed and delicate. Her design channels Marilyn Monroe at her most vulnerable. She’s the kind of girl still waiting to be discovered — or devoured.

Victor Von Claire was always meant to feel like a man out of time — seductive, composed, and just slightly off. His look blends European aristocracy with classic vampire iconography, but I kept it rooted in late-1940s fashion. Long overcoat, silk cravat, high-collared waistcoat — formal yet theatrical. His tan skin was something to give him a sense of vitality and make him feel foreign and unplaceable, like he stepped off a train from a country that doesn’t exist anymore. He’s charming, polite, and always smiling — but there’s something underneath. His final transformation at the end of the series isn’t a change — it’s the mask cracking. The monster was always there.

Carmina Karnstein isn’t a major player in the first issue, but she’s planned to become a major player later. Victor Von Claire’s enigmatic envoy, Carmina handles Viola’s every request — all she has to do is ask. She’s a complete mystery and one of my favorite designs, blending 1940s haute couture, expressionist art, gothic elegance, Art Nouveau, and, of course, a nod to everyone’s favorite sapphic vampiress, Carmilla.

Thanks for reading and supporting — it means a lot. Just a few minor characters left to design, and I’ve already started pencilling the pages. Here’s a sneak peek! And yep, this is how we first meet Viola: Locked in mortal combat with her arch-nemesis: the brassiere!