We are talking about the era of

The tape is tight. The body is armored. The morality is gray. And we cannot look away.

This is where the "wicked" enters the equation. The adjective "wicked" is the critical modifier. Skin-tight attire on a purely altruistic hero (think Christopher Reeve’s bright, loose suit) is wholesome. But when that suit turns black, when the leather creaks, or when the latex shines under neon noir lighting, the genre shifts. Skin tight wicked entertainment thrives on the anti-hero.

A baggy costume allows for escape. A skin-tight costume implies there is no exit. When we watch a wicked character in a second-skin outfit—say, Cersei Lannister in her shoulder-plate armor dress—we feel the weight of her imprisonment. She is powerful, but she cannot take off the mask. The "entertainment" comes from watching the friction between the perfect exterior and the rotting interior.