About ShapeShifterZ

How hot glue, a Xena costume and a bad idea led to ShapeShifterZ.

Imagine a computer geek dressed as a warrior woman on an all-female wrestling television show, getting body-slammed by an even taller woman in a Lakers-like costume. Live. At the famous Forum in Inglewood. Now imagine a voice from nowhere narrating, “You’re probably wondering how I got myself into this situation.”

Yeah. Me too.

Warrior Woman. The costume the show built — not the one I made.

I’m Tanja, an old-school graphic designer and illustrator. Which means I know how to draw with a pencil, a computer, and even crayons. Years ago, I worked for the famous special-effects company Digital Domain in Venice, California. They had enormous Halloween parties filled with ridiculously talented artists and an even more ridiculous guest list. I was a fan of Hercules and wanted to go as Xena. I was also single and wanted to get noticed. So I made a Xena costume out of hot glue, a brown bra, kids’ craft foam and acrylic paint. I almost won the costume contest, but lost to a giant robot with mechanics and lights built in. I probably didn’t help my chances by threatening to kill the audience while I was on stage. I stayed in character all night — stealing beer, pushing people around and generally behaving like Xena.

There’s something about putting on a costume that lets you transform into someone — or something — different.

Years later, a producer I worked with at Digital Domain called me and asked me to show up at a casting call. It was for a new women’s professional wrestling show called Women of Wrestling, created by David McLane as a new take on the spirit of GLOW. I told him I wasn’t a gymnast or an actress. In his very direct Boston way, he said, “Don’t worry about it. You won’t get the part.” He just needed a Xena-like woman to show up, because the women they had been casting weren’t quite the right height or look. I didn’t own sexy workout clothes, so he told me to wear my homemade Xena costume. I did — and once again, the costume put me into character.

I got the part.

You probably haven’t heard of me, which means I wasn’t exactly the star. But I had a freaking blast. I was an American babyface and got thrown around like a rag doll. I got hit on the head with a mirror that shattered, got thrown out of the ring, and even won at the pay-per-view with my signature back-roundhouse spin kick. It was ridiculous. It was awesome.

The show’s costume designer was amazing, and I admired her tremendously. I wasn’t a costume designer yet, but I was starting to realize there was something about making characters come to life that I couldn’t get enough of. The show hadn’t built my ring gear yet, so I jumped at the chance to make my own costume for the vignette. Again, I made it out of hot glue and paint. It looked great on camera. It would not have survived the ring.

I ended up making costumes for some of the show’s other characters, too.

Then I set out to build one that would survive the ring. My plan was a second persona, and I hand-painted a muscular gargoyle bodysuit made to take a hit. WOW never saw it. The show didn’t come back in time for me to pitch it.

So the gargoyle went to a Digital Domain Halloween party instead, and won prizes. Then to Bay to Breakers, the 13k costume race in San Francisco. Then other people wanted one, and I started making them for friends and family, even customers. Each one took more than 40 hours.

The idea

One morning I was sitting at Peet’s Coffee when it hit me: I’d spent years using computers to create graphics and texture maps for imaginary worlds and digital characters. Why couldn’t I do the same thing for an actual human?

Instead of putting a flat design on a bodysuit, I could create a full-scale body map designed around the contours of a real body. I could make the muscles part of the artwork. I could make skin look like skin, stone look like stone, and an alien look like an alien — and map all of it onto a real person.

One hour later…

NOT! It took a little longer than one hour.

Three years later, I started ShapeShifterZ.

What I make

Every ShapeShifterZ suit starts with one of my anatomical body maps — male and female bases I developed in-house. They’re designed around the contours and musculature of a real human body, so the graphics move with the body instead of simply sitting flat on the fabric.

Then I wrap that body in character: skin, alien hide, stone, bronze, fur, comic-book linework, or whatever weird thing I’ve decided to make next. Every one of those surfaces is original ShapeShifterZ artwork, created and designed by me.

I’m a graphic designer, illustrator, costume maker and a bit of a perfectionist. Eventually I figured out how to make all those things work together.

Why the muscle graphics?

Because I can.

My original gargoyle costume emphasized my muscle tone, even though the muscles weren’t actually there. I liked what that did to the silhouette. My customers liked it too, so I kept going.

That’s part of where the name ShapeShifterZ came from. The costumes don’t just change what you’re wearing. They shift the shape of your body — and help you become the character you’re playing.

The fabric

I use premium 4-way-stretch, sweat-wicking performance fabric because these aren’t costumes designed to stand still. They’re made to move. They’re made for everyday peeps, dancers, circus performers and stunt women and men. The fabric moves like skin under stage lights, stretches with your body and holds its shape through a full performance. It’s the kind of fabric my movie and performance clients trust.

I’d wear it in the ring.

How it’s made

I design the artwork on my computer — from my actual brain. Then I send the fabric to a local Los Angeles print house, where my designs are sublimated directly onto the performance fabric. After that, it comes back to my studio, where I cut it, sew it, finish it, inspect it and package it.

For big runs — a theater group, dance company or full cast — I bring in extra sewing hands.

And probably some food delivery.

Because ShapeShifterZ may look like a big company from the outside.

It’s not.
It’s me.

And that’s actually the point. Every suit still passes through my hands.

I make costumes for people who want to become something else for a little while. A monster. A superhero. An animal. An alien. A creature that probably shouldn’t exist.

Whatever you’re becoming, I’d love to make the costume.

Message me anytime and tell me who you’re becoming.

Start your character