Monday, November 21, 2005

Tonight, Matthew, I'm Going To Be...

Tonight, Matthew, I'm going to be...

I was told the rules in no uncertain terms:
1. I wasn't allowed to stay all day.
2. No running down the aisles...
3. Or climbing under the racks.
4. And definitely no whooping.
The reason for these rules and the possibility of whooping? York Theatre Royal's Wardrobe Department.

Whilst I can see why such a trip might be pretty much par for the course for a Saturday morning (isn't that how you spend yours?) this trip had a reason other than my wanting to try on lots of pretty dresses. On Thursday I'm off to that must mythical of DA places - the Bedford. And if a trip to the Bedford with the added bonus of it being to see Griffin perform weren't enough there's a dress code. Decadent. Now I'm assuming that the Bedford being a jeans and nice top place, or even a jeans and not so nice top place not everyone is going to take that much notice of the word 'decadent'. But you can't wave something like that in front of me and expect me not to run with it. Thus I found myself stood in my underwear in the changing room of the theatre's wardrobe department surrounded by at least fifteen different dresses and a number of somewhat dubious corset tops that I wasn't quite as chuffed with.

Given the fact that the rails and rails of costumes had caused me to end up resembling a rabbit in some rather bright headlights it was a good job that Val took charge and with some uncanny decadent clothing radar marched her way up and down the racks pulling out potential clothing. And the corsets. Which, given that they were from what was clearly a particulary twisted pantomime, were not potential clothing but, let's get one thing clear, when Val gives you something to try on, YOU TRY IT ON. Trust me it's the easiest - and most pain free - route to take.

So try on I did. A black lace dress that really revealed far too much of my underwear to the viewing public. A red dress with feathers that was spectacularly unflattering. And because there was little chance that I was going to leave without grabbing something regency to wear, I had to have a Byron groupie moment.I think I'm going to start a one women campaign to get these dresses back into fashion. What day wouldn't be fantastic if you were wearing something out of the pages of an Austen novel?

Sadly I had to concede that the regency dress was possibly a step too far, even for 'decadent' and the choice came down to a long 1930's dress, blue with pink flowers, and a purple dress from West Side Story that immediately had me swishing around and in desperate need of a musical medly. After much debate - and a run in with some of the wardrobes furs - I made the decision that I'd miss the 1930's dress more if I didn't get it. Plus I had gone in with the idea that decadent for me meant being in a F Scott Fitzgerald novel, and in that dress I can certainly imagine that I'm a singer in some smokey early nineteen thirties club, possibly in some mainland Europe destination. Obviously you're going to have to wait for a picture because I'm keeping it secret. A girl's got to make an entrance after all.

2 comments:

My Secrets Inside said...

So what does decadent actually mean?

Val said...

I guess it means many things to many people - in my case it clearly means 'corset' style tops -and yes, they have had some bizarre pantos at York Theatre Royal.
My own version of 'decadent' remains to be seen on Thursday ;-)