Reunited (And it feels SO good!)

I love playing dress up.

I think that was always a huge part of the draw in doing theater and opera. I have gotten to wear some amazing costumes in my life. Dresses that make me feel pretty! And witty!! And gay!!! (Well…23.9%, that is.)

I have ALSO worn some costumes that are decidedly NOT pretty. That is the natural consequence of being an Alto/Mezzo. When you have my voice type and look, your roles are usually placed in the following categories: Witches, Men, Vamps, Alcoholics, Step-Mothers, Nuns, and Bitches. (I am also adept at playing Whores who end up sleeping with/and or murdering, Witches, Men, Vamps, Alcoholics, Step-mothers, Nuns, and Bitches. Just so you know.)

Fortunately, this show falls in the classification of “Pretty Costuming”.

Tonight we got to faff about with dresses for the last half of rehearsal.

YIPPEE!!!

Now, this is not quite as exciting as when I do professional or main stage university productions. For those shows your costumes are custom designed, built, and fit to your exact specifications. The costume department measures EVERYTHING. Ever been measured and fit for a wig? No? You’re lucky, because it.is.a.pain.in.the.ass.

With community theater, it is usually a crapshoot. Hopefully, the company has good costuming connections or has been around long enough to have their own wardrobes. You just cross your fingers, hope your costume fits. Well, that and that you don’t get stuck with the dress that is lime green satin, trimmed with purple fringe that looks like it was last worn in the days of Wyatt Earp by the Tequila shooting hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold at The Boot Hill Saloon.

As this company is fairly new I wasn’t sure what to expect. I know that we are having our main costumes made because they are basically sarongs and are not hard or expensive to build.

There is one scene that is full of complicated hoopskirt dresses, though. Dresses built for hoopskirts are really expensive to make because of all the material in them. I SO love wearing them, though. I swish and swirl and say things like “I don’t know ‘nuthin about birthin’ no babies, Miss Scarlett!!”

So, I wasn’t sure what they were going to do. My guess was that they were going to rent costumes from the professional opera company that lives in my valley.

I was right.

The doors to the rehearsal space flew open when all the wives were in the middle of twirling around on stage and the costumers came in with racks of dresses. I saw a flash of blue and cascading lace trimming the edge of a puff sleeve that was peeking out from all the other fabrics and my heart started beating faster.

It COULDN’T be.

Yet, I knew immediately that it was. I would know that fabric and lace ANYWHERE.

This dress was custom built for ME.

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

Holy freaking double moo cow!!!!

I wore it for 3 months in “La Traviata” during the inagural season of aforementioned professional opera company. I freaking LOVED it. I secretly thought that I had the prettiest dress in the whole cast. The costume designer told me it was her favorite and she’d named it “The Wisteria Dress”.

I felt so pretty in it, which was quite a triumph considering that my custom made wig was HORRIBLE for me. The wig maker did all the wigs for the Metropolitan Opera in New York, and most of them were gorgeous.

Mine? Was platinum blond and due to my freakish hairline that comes down practically to my eyebrows, they put tons of curls in the bang area. It looked like they draped a dead poodle over my forehead. (Kind of like this, only platinum. And not as soft. Or non-hideous.)

The girl next to my makeup station had a gorgeous auburn wig that looked terrible on her. She looked like Jessica Lange. We bitched all season that we should have each other’s wigs. So on the last night we switched and were ratted out by the assistant stage manager. They held the curtain while the wig mistress switched our wigs back and we were fined heavily out of our paychecks.

There are reasons why I didn’t pursue a professional career, people.

I ran right up to the rack and pulled it out so I could see it better. Then I started babbling to anyone who would listen that it was my dress. The costumer was confused and took the dress off the rack saying that yes, she wanted to find me a dress that I liked but that we had to be sure that they fit well.

“NO! It really is MY dress. Made FOR ME! PLEASE let me wear it again!”

She looked a little skeptical and then I remembered.

“Look on the inside of the waistband. You should see a heart and the letters L.M.A.L.S written in Sharpie Marker.”

Sure enough, there it was in all its sentimental glory.

There was another girl in La Traviata that had a very similar skirt and we kept mixing them up. So…I put my initials and my boyfriend’s initials and a heart on the band of my skirt with a Sharpie. I’m not sure which horrifies me more, the fact that I marked up a gorgeous costume that didn’t belong to me or the fact that I was so damn cheesy about it.

(Give me a break, people! I was young! Poor! I needed the money! People make mistakes! Posing naked with a gang of bikers and some chipmunks was just a youthful folly! Really! Wait…Uh…What were we talking about, again?? Oh, yes….My costume…Ehem….)

They said that they wanted to see if it still fit. I was pretty confident that it would, because that season was not too long after my gastric bypass and I was still transitioning from being the size of a heifer. Lo and behold! It not only fit but it is actually a little big on me!!! WOOT!!! It is such good condition for its age and when I get a hoop skirt under it it will look FABULOUS.

I know that it seems like a stupid thing, getting so worked up over some lace and taffeta, but this is history for me. It made me think of the millions and millions of things that have happened to me between the first time I wore this costume and now. I remembered how young I was, how little of the roads of my life had been put in place. How many mistakes and triumphs that I were still to come.

It was pretty amazing to think of all the life experiences that led up to this moment of reunification.

It was totally cool.

I can’t wait to put it on again.