Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Part goes to Girl with Costume

I love acting.

As a small child, many of us experience time on stage in school productions, choir or award ceremonies. I participated in these activities and enjoyed them.

But the experience that set everything apart was Hansel & Gretel. It was a queer version, written by a well-intentioned teacher that put a fairy godmother in the story. I was the that fairy godmother, probably the only fairy godmother Hansel & Gretel will ever have.

I looked and felt like the good witch, Glinda, in the Wizard of Oz, but the fairy version of course. The gown was made from one of my mother’s old dresses and embellished with sequins and ruffles. The wings were draped with gauze. My wand was caked with sparkly glitter that flew through the air anytime I waved it. It was magical.

The experience was profound for this ham-bone. The rest of the school year I was a fairy, floating around the play ground granting wishes, permission to use the restroom or go to the water fountain. The authority’s reprimand for overstepping my bounds is another story.

As much as I’m sure I was right for the part, that my acting ability surpassed the majority of my class, the truth about that part was that I had a costume. Well, I said I had a costume.

I showed my mother the note given by my teacher requiring the costume in a few weeks for dressed rehearsals. She said no. True to form, when my dad got home, I told him that I really wanted to be the fairy godmother. He asked my mother to take some time away from my toddler sisters to make a costume. She did. And all was right in my world.

I got the part.

This memory hadn’t come to mind until today when skimming through the audition announcements I found:


Female, British accent, must own a costume worn by the British Queen.

So the truth about the theater remains: The part goes to the person with the costume.

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