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Well, now, this is just embarrassing...

...it's been over a month since I last posted. I've been out of town twice, in tech once, my social life is all topsy-turvy, and my apartment is a total wreck. But I'm not complaining, just making lame excuses. I'm a working artist, not a starving one. Even if working is bordering on ninety hours a week. I've finally come to appreciate something my father told me years ago; if I worked this hard in any other industry I'd be making either headlines or millions, or both. As much as I love my job, it's starting to look attractive. Then again, it's the end of the season and everyone's swearing to themselves that they'll turn down more jobs and figure out how to make more money and get a better filing system. But we're all going to work ourselves to pieces again anyway. And nobody really knows why.

I do get to see a lot of pretty naked people, however, and last week's wardrobe gig was particularly entertaining.

Press here.

When I was in school, I'd visit the town I grew up in and have to play the part of small town girl makin' it big in the city. Sure, I'm doing pretty well in my (then) new urban climate, but sometimes the encouragement went too far, "we're going to see you on the red carpet someday!" Well, thanks, but not really. I mean, you just watched the Oscars, right? Did you see the costume designers anywhere? And who won? Right, there you have it. I'm not really in this for the fame and fortune, which is good, because even the most famous and fortunate of us are making acceptance speeches while the world goes to the kitchen for another beer.

I'm behind the scenes for a reason, I'm uncomfortable getting my picture taken and feel awkward at parties. But I am a theatre person, which means I secretly love the attention even if it makes me blush. And, in shameless self-promotion, it's pretty sweet when reviewers give me a shout-out.

The Less Glamorous Side

Yes, yes, the opening night parties and the photo shoots and the fancy clothes, but also:

1) I have gone to Target everyday for the last ten days straight.
2) My credit card has been flagged and frozen because of huge purchases in strange places twelve times in the last month.
3) I spent the better part of my Thursday night laying on the floor of Chicago Dramatists looking at an actor's crotch, then having an in-depth conversation about the needs of his crotch.
4) I fried my Blackberry and experienced such debilitating anxiety that any one of my stage managers might need me in the twelve hours between the fateful spill and the fix.
5) I had to clear space on the kitchen table to eat lunch. It required moving a sewing machine and a pile of other people's pants.

And my stage manager just texted me... I have to go now.

Social Observation from a Costumer

The three muses of Costume Design (according to me) are Observation, Research, and Bullshit. Observation and Research require more insight than a lot of people realize, a lot of creating a character is also looking into social behavior and history. It is in this context that I have pondered pantyhose deeper than I'd ever thought possible.

The Old Settler up at Writer's Theatre is set in 1940s Harlem. Stockings in the 1940s came in colors like "nude" but of course, it's my nude color, not the nude color of the ladies living in Harlem. So women with any skin color that didn't match Barbie walked around with funny-looking nylons. Nan Cibula-Jenkins, the costume designer, made the choice to have the girls' pantyhose match their skin tones to appeal to a modern eye. I supported the decision and went off in search of pantyhose with back seams in a variety of "nudes". No such luck. After hours on websites, in stores, on the phone, discontinued products and backordered colors, the best resolution was to buy back seam pantyhose in Barbie doll nude and dye them. I guess we haven't come so far after all.

Tech Moksha.

Not only am I in tech, I am in two techs at the same time. Yes, it's crazy and I haven't been sleeping much or responsibly investigating the strange smell in the fridge. In fact, a friend's recent email captures my current state perfectly; "...dirty, delirious and living in your car, yelling things out in your sleep, "Lace!", "Size 11!", "Corset!" as you nervously tic like a heroin-addled combat vet. Awesome."

However, I've reached a level beyond exhaustion and stress because this week has proved how much I love my job. Despite all the insanity, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing and things are working out great. For every time I show up at a vintage store after closing, gods open a parking space. It's karma, damn it, and it's treating me nice.

Notes From Up North

I'm currently assisting on a production of The Old Settler at Writer's Theatre in Glencoe. Tonight was a designer run, and the lighting designer commented that you always know when a show's good from the minute you see it in the rehearsal room. And this one, friends, is good.

Sugar n' Spice

It takes a certain brand of crazy to make a life in theatre, along with a certain set of skills and, of course, talent (we hope). But it's true that in addition to all of these things, it's a who-you-know industry. More importantly, who-you-know-and-how-much-they-like-you. I'm a pretty good person, but not the most charming or funny or interesting on the planet. Enter baked goods.

Baking is another skill in my repertoire of traditional feminine talents (that I have embraced and empowered like a good third-waver). Baked goods make people happy, happy people hire the people who baked for them. The secret to my success, friends, is good cinnamon and a lot of butter.

On quitting your day job...

This is my obligatory apologetic (and lame) excuse for not posting in three weeks (sorry, Mom). For more details, see this NYT article about freelancing, to which my only reply is "...and?" I don't mean to sound jaded, it's just that I woke up at 6am yesterday and trudged through the slush to do other people's laundry. Yup, I'm living my very own American dream. That being said, Jennifer, a volunteer mom backstage at the CSO (I finally understand why the industry calls them "child wranglers"), has reminded me how cool it really is. Today she explained how different and fascinating it is for her as a "fly on the wall" backstage, watching how everyone and everything works. Jennifer, the other parents, and their kids have a really lovely excitement and curiosity, which is refreshing when the rest of us are feeling like it's just another show. It's been a long time since someone asked me if I was "getting excited" about opening night...

Creative Revolution!

Creative types everywhere rejoice. This reminds me of a teacher in high school commenting after the opening of my design debut, "Everything was beautiful, but why theatre? Why don't you become a doctor or something where you use your brain? You're so smart!" Yup. And people think I left early because I'm brilliant... it was more like running out of a room before I threw up. 

Watch this, pass it on.

Urban Inspiration

Every time I visit a city, new or old, near or far, I perceive it as if I might live there some day (I mean, why not?). I think it's because of this that the first places I seek out are farmer's markets, used bookstores, coffee shops that pull their own shots, and all the other things that make me the artsy urban cliche I am. I try to see where I would and could fit in, how much my purple coat sticks out in the crowd.

I have an upcoming project with the fabulous Theatre Mir that deals with urban environments and development. Thus, I am presenting the question; in what ways does a city's architecture (literal and figurative) create its own unique style? There's the obvious elemental concerns (everyone in Chicago owns a parka and rain boots). Then there's the... edginess of New York? preppy-ness of Boston? showiness of Nashville? I don't have an answer, but I've been searching for throughlines of fashion and architecture. The photo above is a fence on the Upper East Side that would translate beautifully to a textile pattern. I'm going to start collecting more of these images...

Full disclosure: I'm wearing a vest and blogging at a coffeeshop in Cambridge, Mass. I need to stop now. 

Judgment Day

Today was my first day of shooting for my first film. Nervous, exciting, all that. We're filming a portion set in the Civil War (like the research I posted) and we're using reenactors as extras. These guys seriously know their stuff. In the costume world, lack of time always forces one to fake it, and it usually goes unnoticed. Reenactors notice, reenactors know.

Often in the industry, we have a historical costume that is put on a modern actor (not used to wearing it) to present to a modern audience (not used to seeing it) and they have to safely do cartwheels through the aisle. Clearly, we have to sacrifice the authentic for the functional and aesthetic. Reenactment folks bring a whole new level of authenticity to the table. They special order historically accurate fabrics. One gentleman hand stitches all of this own garments. They know every date, battle, button and they have guns. I was terrified. 

I was met with appraising eyes, I got lots of criticism, and a few compliments (whew). It was a long day with plenty of waiting around, so I asked questions and got lectures and lessons about... everything. Even if my costumes (ahem... period dress) didn't quite win them over, I think I did. It was kind of wonderful having authorities on site to help make choices and give input. At the end of the day, I had a deeper respect for the reenactment community. And on my way out, one kind soul said, "Ya know, I could never deal with actors and run around all day with a smile, I think you're pretty good at faking it." Victory! 

A Word About Laundry

Doing other people's laundry is at once embarrassing and zen. No, that's not my enormous hibiscus print mini dress, yet I really don't care when you give me that sideways glance. Hmm...

Testing...

Every adventure has a beginning, right? Even if they're awkward. In an attempt to streamline my answers to the ever-coming "did you make that?" "where'd you get it?" "a dollar? no way!" line of fire, a blog. Dedicated to the master thrifters, muses and paint-under-your-fingernails crowd. And my mom.