If you’ve scrolled through my blog or Instagram, you’ve probably seen my cats dressed as tiny geishas, samurai warriors, or miniature opera stars. Maybe you’ve wondered, “How on earth did they get that shot?” Or maybe you’re just hoping to capture one decent photo of your own cat in a Halloween costume without ending up with 42 blurry shots and one paw in the face.
Well, let me take you behind the scenes—into the fur-flying, treat-bribing, light-juggling world of cat costume photography.
Because trust me: it’s equal parts art, patience, and absolute chaos.
🎭 Step One: The Costume Comes First
It all starts with a vision. Maybe I’ve been inspired by a traditional Kabuki outfit I saw in a documentary, or a bold Chinese opera mask I spotted at a market. I sketch out my ideas, then try to translate that look into something cat-sized and wearable.
The golden rule? Comfort first. Always.
The best costumes are soft, easy to slip on, and avoid tight areas around the neck or belly. I usually use felt, velcro, and elastic for flexibility, and I always do a “comfort test” before the camera ever comes out. If my cat looks annoyed or starts pulling it off? We stop. No shot is worth stressing them out.
🐾 Meet the Models
I currently have two regular stars: Mika, my elegant tuxedo cat with a diva streak, and Kumo, a fluffy gray cloud of a boy who is shockingly chill about everything—including wearing a tiny kimono.
Mika is the dramatic one. She’ll pose like a pro if she feels like it. Kumo, on the other hand, just wants snacks. I’ve learned to work with their personalities, not against them.
Tip for aspiring cat photographers: know your cat. Some love attention and costumes. Others… not so much. Start small—maybe a scarf or hat—and always use positive reinforcement.
💡 Setting the Scene
Once the costume’s ready and the cat is in a cooperative mood (key phrase: in a mood), it’s time to set the stage. And I mean that literally. I have a small folding table that I transform into different “sets” using cloth, paper backdrops, fake cherry blossoms, origami, or props I’ve collected over the years.
My favorite scene so far? A miniature Noh stage with red curtains, a paper lantern, and a bamboo mat. Kumo wore a little mask (briefly) and sat like a wise old actor. I nearly cried. It was that cute.
Lighting is everything. I use two softbox lights with diffusers, but natural daylight by a window can work wonders too. Avoid harsh flashes—they startle cats and flatten out their features. Warm, soft light makes fur glow and helps capture those gorgeous whiskers.
📸 The Shoot: Patience is the Secret Ingredient
Once the costume is on, the set is ready, and the cat is… mostly in place, I get into position. I shoot with a mirrorless camera (Sony Alpha series), but even a smartphone with portrait mode can do magic these days.
The trick is to shoot fast and often. Cats don’t pose on command. I take bursts of 5–10 shots while making silly noises, crinkling paper, or dangling feathers off-camera to get their attention.
And yes, I bribe them. Relentlessly.
Every few minutes, we stop for playtime or snacks. If they get restless or irritated, we stop altogether. There’s always another day.
Some of the best shots happen in those in-between moments—a sideways glance, a dramatic yawn, a paw swipe that somehow looks elegant. Those are the real treasures.
🧹 After the Curtain Falls: Editing & Clean-up
Once the shoot’s done, I upload everything into Lightroom and start sorting. I usually take 100+ shots per session and maybe keep 5–10 really good ones. I adjust lighting, sharpen eyes, and sometimes remove a stray fluff or treat crumb from their fur.
But I try not to over-edit. The charm is in the realness—the slightly crooked hat, the sideways smirk. These cats aren’t models. They’re characters.
And once everything’s edited? Treats all around. My cats get a snack, I get a tea, and we all relax while I pick a photo to share with the world.
💬 Final Thoughts
People often ask me if it’s hard to photograph cats in costume, and I always say, yes and no. Yes, it takes time, patience, and more treats than I care to admit. But no, because it’s so much fun—not just the photography, but the connection, the creativity, and the storytelling.
These aren’t just photos. They’re tiny performances, miniature plays in costume, with two very furry stars. And behind every image is a moment of trust, silliness, and joy.
So if you’ve ever thought about photographing your own cat in costume, I say: give it a try. Start simple, stay gentle, and be ready for the unexpected.
And remember—when all else fails, just let the cat direct.