I made it. By that I mean, I have some work to do. This week the cast of Annie had a dress rehearsal, and barreled through their lines and numbers while dealing with baggy shirts and pants that won't zip. A few girls were panicked not to have red Christmas aprons, but I reassured them they will be done asap.
My favorite moment was when the butler was helping Oliver Warbucks put on his coat to go to the theater, and realized he had accidentally picked up Annie's. With a fur collar. The person sitting next to me and I let out peals of laughter as they tried to figure out why it didn't fit.
The homeless people of Hooverville look good. Or rather, bedraggled. I passed out scarves and gloves to stave off the imaginary chill. Two kids asked if they could rough up their shirts a bit, and really got into it with markers and scissors.
The list of fixes is long. Students found me in the darkness to report lost headbands and the lack of pockets, worried that it was too much to ask. If they only knew how easy it is to add a pocket, or tighten the elastic for a bowtie. They would be less impressed.
People seemed worried that I would be discouraged by the problems. But now I can do something. Last week, when they were too busy to try pants on, I could only wonder. Pretend that everything was peachy. I want the actors to feel comfortable in their outfits, and that means responding to their needs.
I recognize their hesitation. Most of them barely know me, and having someone dress you is rather personal. But I try to put them at ease, and tell them they look great. And tailor the waistbands.
Relationships take adjusting. There are times when friends are reluctant to mention that a comment felt constraining, or a brush off left them in the cold. But if I want to make the people I love feel at home with me I need to welcome the chance to get it right.
