The Ten Commandments of the Costume Shop
December 6, 2007Reaching back into the distant past… lately I’ve been thinking about everything Kathy the Shop Supervisor of the Gods taught me. About good work, craftsmanship, precision, problem-solving, planning ahead; it’s an impressive list, and anything I failed to absorb is solely my fault, not hers.
Then there are the other things I learned. Heh.
- Thou shalt measure once and once again; yea, even unto the Third Measuring.
- Thou shalt leave ample seam allowances, for thou art adding to the Holy Stock.
- Thou shalt cut no material but fabric with thy Ginghers.
- Thou shalt time thy repetitive tasks; not in overweening pride, but to the steady improvement of thy time management skills.
- Thou shalt fear no deadline but Opening Night.
- Thou shalt not defile the Sanctity of the Shop with the odor of burnt popcorn.
- Honor thy Lighting Designer and Director; all others are as chaff before the wind.
- Thou shalt not succumb to merriment during fittings, save that which the Fitted may share.
- Thou shalt not fornicate in fitting rooms, on washed muslin, or in the spray booth.
- Though thou dalliest with Actors, thou shalt marry Technicians.
Let me add a ten unspoken ones from an actor’s perspective:
1. Thou shalt measure an actor’s every possible measurement, being careful to flip the tape over, looked puzzled, and mutter to thyself, “Is that possible?”
2. When measuring an actor’s inseam, thou shalt be careful to lightly brush against said actor’s most sensitive spot. If thou feels movement, thou knowest said actor is not gay. This will be big news in thy costume cloister.
3. Thou shalt never laugh at an actor’s attempts to be witty. Thy best response is to stare blankly at the actor, completely without comprehension.
4. Thou shalt treat the wardrobe mistress as an outcast for, yea, verily, she doth understand and even like actors, and her loyalty to the costume shop is suspect thereunto.
5. If any actor should need to change from full tuxedo to wetsuit in 1.5 seconds, thou shalt not aid him in any way with velcro. For surely, it is written that all quick change problems stem from actors’ complete inabilities to dress themselves.
6. When thou hast made a costume, and seen that it is good, thou must have the actor walk among you wearing the costume so that all mayest praise the fabric, the cut, the gussets, the darts, the pleats, the gathers, the slash sleeves, and all else that is good in the costume. But thou mayest not acknowledge the actor as more than walking mannequin for, surely, if thou dost, the actor will feel human.
7. Be thou busy, talkative, and full of good cheer until one sees the actor enter the door. Then, thou must become completely silent, lest the actor feel welcome.
8. If thou likest an actor not, thy path is clear. Thou must raise the waistline 1/2 inch if the actor is already short-waisted, use unflattering cuts and colors on a beam too broad, or use any other device within thy power to make the actor a sight gag, but never in such a way that the director will credit the actor’s complaints.
9. If thou art making boots, use nails that are 1/16 of an inch longer than the thickness of the heel and sole. Thou must complain bitterly about prima donna actors until they begin to leave bloody footprints on the stage. Then, thou must blame compression in the soles and heels.
10. If thou are attending an audition, thou must make sure the director chooses the actor who will fit into the existing costume.
Exactly! Let me just add:
#2 News flash: we already know who’s gay and who’s straight. We choose fitters accordingly to create the greatest possible discomfort. If someone has previously dallied with the actor, they’re It.
#3 Do you really want me to laugh with a straight pin in your inseam? I think not.
#4 Wardrobe mistress = double agent. When her sojourn in sweaty sock Hell is over, she is received back into the fold with margaritas and a full exchange of new information.
#5 Also, the inability to understand instructions hissed in an undertone through the sleeves of a waiting doublet. Lines, schmines – pay attention. I said LEFT arm, damn it.
#7 See #2.
#8 and #10 Hence the assiduous cultivation of the director, by any means necessary.
Perhaps I should restate:
#2: The real trick is to find out if the actor is bi.
#3: I rarely make jokes with a straight pin anywhere near my inseam.
#4: Two kinds of wardrobe mistresses. One is actually working for the actors and trying to make everything as easy and comfortable as possible for them so they can actually concentrate on what they’re doing in front of an audience. The other kind spends her time saying things like, “It looks perfectly fine to me.” It’s the second kind that gets invited back for margaritas in the fourth circle of Hell.
#5: It is the tendency to hiss instructions through a sleeve at the actual first freakin’ dress rehearsal, instead of rehearsing the quick changes prior to that, that screams for maximum velcro.
#8 and #10: For God’s sake, don’t cultivate the director. Sleep with him (or her).
#4 Nope, one kind. Some are better at working both sides, that’s all. I was one.
#5 Rehearsing the change, plus a calm and masterful gaze, a soothing voice, and a firm hand with the shoes. Like with horses.
#8 and #10 That’s what I meant; at least, that’s what I did. Maybe.
#5: My wife was one too. I proposed back stage during a quick change. Had to go on missing a shoe.