a good kind of stress
It's not the children I have problems with, it's the parents. Kids ask innocent questions and their parents yell at them. Then the parent asks a completely inane question and I'm supposed to answer placidly.
I call in actors by family (candlestick family, baker family, etc) and do their fittings sequentially, first the parents then their children. Last night I called the Mayor's family in for fittings. They are to be the wealthiest-looking family on stage, with the nicest clothes and classiest style. Mom and Dad were no sweat, couple safety pins, one or two notes. But while I adjusted the mayor's cravat, as I tucked in the Lady's bodice, the two little girls twirled, ran the length of the dressing room and back, tried on hats in the mirror, and spewed a continuous stream of questions at me "Who's wearing this?" "Is so-and-so wearing that same wig this year?" "Whose costume has taken the longest to fix?" "Will I be wearing a crinnel [sic]?"
But that is what is expected of children, to be silly and curious and bored. The parents, however, acted abhorrently. "Will you put that down! Leave Stef alone, she's busy. Come back over here and be still." The stress caused me by their incessant yelling quite overcame the fidgeting of the two girls. Plus I had to listen to them talk about the children's agents, and brag about what other work they had done. What a transparent display of their own shortcomings, forcing their child to be successful and competitive at such a young age.
Vexing my frustration later to the choreographer, he spat "Oh, xxx's mother. She's such a bitch." I hope I don't end up as bitter in THIS career choice.
After rehearsal, several people came into the dressing room where I was picking up the pieces from the night's frenzy. David (the director, who is also the artistic director, the playwright, the theatre's executive director, and who is playing the part of Scrooge) showed me his new dressing gown and night gown sent from a professional costume designer out in California. They were absolutely breathtaking. Thank you, this is the reason I want to go to grad school. I want to design pieces so exquisite.
I then brought out the completed Ghost of Christmas Past dress to show them. The room filled with "Oooh!" and "Ohhhh!" and "How beautiful!" Chrissy, the stage manager, said to David, "Isn't this what you've wanted every year but you never got it?" David agreed, "This is what I imagined it would look like."
*sigh*
I think I can get through the next 8 months.
I call in actors by family (candlestick family, baker family, etc) and do their fittings sequentially, first the parents then their children. Last night I called the Mayor's family in for fittings. They are to be the wealthiest-looking family on stage, with the nicest clothes and classiest style. Mom and Dad were no sweat, couple safety pins, one or two notes. But while I adjusted the mayor's cravat, as I tucked in the Lady's bodice, the two little girls twirled, ran the length of the dressing room and back, tried on hats in the mirror, and spewed a continuous stream of questions at me "Who's wearing this?" "Is so-and-so wearing that same wig this year?" "Whose costume has taken the longest to fix?" "Will I be wearing a crinnel [sic]?"
But that is what is expected of children, to be silly and curious and bored. The parents, however, acted abhorrently. "Will you put that down! Leave Stef alone, she's busy. Come back over here and be still." The stress caused me by their incessant yelling quite overcame the fidgeting of the two girls. Plus I had to listen to them talk about the children's agents, and brag about what other work they had done. What a transparent display of their own shortcomings, forcing their child to be successful and competitive at such a young age.
Vexing my frustration later to the choreographer, he spat "Oh, xxx's mother. She's such a bitch." I hope I don't end up as bitter in THIS career choice.
After rehearsal, several people came into the dressing room where I was picking up the pieces from the night's frenzy. David (the director, who is also the artistic director, the playwright, the theatre's executive director, and who is playing the part of Scrooge) showed me his new dressing gown and night gown sent from a professional costume designer out in California. They were absolutely breathtaking. Thank you, this is the reason I want to go to grad school. I want to design pieces so exquisite.
I then brought out the completed Ghost of Christmas Past dress to show them. The room filled with "Oooh!" and "Ohhhh!" and "How beautiful!" Chrissy, the stage manager, said to David, "Isn't this what you've wanted every year but you never got it?" David agreed, "This is what I imagined it would look like."
*sigh*
I think I can get through the next 8 months.