Fur, Felonies and Fantasy: THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE Faces Real-Life Drama

Theatre and real life have always blurred lines—actors fall ill, sets topple unexpectedly, the odd pigeon lands onstage mid-soliloquy—but every now and then, reality hands us a twist even the boldest playwright wouldn’t dare pen. Last week, the Festival Theatre in Edinburgh found itself hosting a drama entirely unscripted: a missing White Witch’s coat, a police investigation, and an appeal that sounds suspiciously like something from a detective novel.

If you’ve not yet caught wind of this peculiar tale (and honestly, where have you been?), allow me to escort you through the wardrobe—straight into a backstage saga worthy of C.S. Lewis himself.

From Fictional Villainy to Actual Theft

Let’s start with the facts, surreal as they sound. On 27 March 2025, just weeks before the acclaimed tour of THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE was scheduled to hit Edinburgh, a distinctive piece of theatrical history disappeared. Not just any costume piece, mind you—the faux fur coat worn by the iconic White Witch vanished under circumstances befitting the pages of a suspense thriller. A 34-year-old man has since been arrested and charged, yet the coat itself remains resolutely absent, a tantalising mystery wrapped in faux fur and uncertainty.

Producer Tom O’Connell’s desperate plea on social media adds an unusual layer of urgency to this escapade: “Someone has stolen our faux fur coat of the White Witch in our hit production of THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE—and it is still missing!” he wrote, presumably with equal measures of disbelief and dismay. His post continues, earnest and emphatic: “We are there in May for a week and need this handmade (expensive) coat back… this is not a PR stunt. Genuinely need it!”

The exasperation practically leaps from the screen.

Behind the Stitching: Why the Coat Matters

If your eyebrows raised at the fervour surrounding this missing garment, you’re not alone. But here’s the thing: theatrical costumes aren’t simply clothes—they’re integral to character and storytelling, meticulously crafted to evoke mood, menace or magic. And this particular coat—ornate, handmade, and unmistakably recognisable—is central to the sinister elegance of the White Witch.

First brought vividly to life by director Sally Cookson at Leeds Playhouse in 2017, before transferring to London’s Bridge Theatre and eventually dazzling audiences in the West End, THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE is widely celebrated for its immersive staging and eye-catching costumes. Directed now by Michael Fentiman, this current touring production carries on Cookson’s striking visual tradition. Audiences and critics alike have praised the imaginative artistry, of which this coat—embroidered with delicate menace and authority—is emblematic. Its disappearance isn’t merely unfortunate; it’s a logistical nightmare for producers racing against the clock to recreate a crucial piece of visual storytelling.

Faux Fur, Real Value: The Hidden Cost of Costuming

Here’s where things get surprisingly interesting. Theatre-goers rarely glimpse the painstaking process behind crafting costumes. Each item onstage has been intricately conceived, designed, and often hand-stitched. The White Witch’s coat in question is reportedly both handmade and uniquely tailored—bespoke craftsmanship that can’t be swiftly replaced off-the-rack.

Sources familiar with theatrical costume creation estimate a coat like this might cost several thousand pounds and take weeks—sometimes months—to replicate exactly. From sourcing ethically-produced faux fur to ensuring the garment withstands the physical demands of nightly performances, theatrical costuming is a careful and costly endeavour. O’Connell’s distress is entirely understandable—this isn’t just a coat; it’s an investment, financially and artistically.

From Fictional Drama to Real-Life Mystery: An Unplanned Twist

Yet here’s a curious angle to consider: theatre has always thrived on unpredictability. The sense of immediacy and the risk inherent in live performance fuels its allure. Could it be that this theft has unwittingly deepened audience anticipation for Edinburgh’s upcoming performances? Of course, O’Connell stresses emphatically that this is no PR stunt—and frankly, this real-life drama is something he would likely prefer to avoid—but the intrigue certainly hasn’t harmed the show’s profile. Ticket sales are brisk, curiosity is piqued, and audiences now have a new dimension through which to experience the show.

But what remains to be seen is whether the production team can swiftly replace such a significant costume piece before the curtains rise. Anyone who’s worked backstage knows costume crews regularly perform miracles at short notice, but even they might struggle under these circumstances. Time is, as always, a stern and unforgiving mistress.

Edinburgh’s Unusual Starring Role

Interestingly, Edinburgh itself emerges as a somewhat unwilling character in this tale. Renowned worldwide as a cultural hub—home to the famed Edinburgh Fringe and countless theatrical escapades—the city now plays the backdrop to this surreal theatre mystery. The city’s theatre-goers, accustomed to boundary-pushing drama onstage, are being treated instead to an unscripted saga offstage. And audiences, sensing the pulse of real-life drama beneath the surface, may flock with even greater anticipation. How often does a costume piece become headline news?

One Edinburgh local I spoke to—a seasoned theatre patron—joked wryly: “We usually see strange costumes on our streets during the Fringe, but this is the first time we’ve had one vanish. If nothing else, it gives new meaning to ‘wardrobe malfunction!’”

Where Do We Go from Here?

With the accused awaiting further legal proceedings, and the White Witch’s infamous coat still lost in theatrical limbo, Edinburgh’s upcoming run of THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE faces an unexpected challenge. Costume teams are undoubtedly in overdrive, and perhaps a new coat will take shape before opening night. But will the new garment carry the same quiet menace, the same theatrical gravitas of its missing predecessor?

A coat, after all, isn’t merely fabric. It’s character, charisma, and confidence sewn together. It’s the power to make an actor walk differently, breathe differently, command space differently. Without it, something subtle yet significant might feel missing—just as surely as if the lion himself were suddenly without his mane.

Theatre, like life, thrives on the unexpected. While producers undoubtedly long for a swift resolution, for audiences, this real-life drama adds a delicious new layer of tension and intrigue. Perhaps when the curtain rises in Edinburgh, and the White Witch emerges—clad either in a new coat or (miracle of miracles) the original recovered garment—the applause might just ring louder, longer, and deeper.

Because in theatre, as in Narnia, miracles and magic are never entirely out of reach. Sometimes they’re simply hiding in plain sight—or perhaps, inexplicably, tucked away somewhere deep in an Edinburgh wardrobe.