Madagascar is my sixth show to costume. It opens tomorrow. And closes.

 

In the past two years there have been lions, and donkeys, a flurry of servants, and the mythical creatures in Wonderland. Each time that I stood face to face with a cast list I had to begin somewhere. Anywhere. The children in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe were a soft start. The English boys and girls who stumbled upon Narnia wore street clothes, and heavy coats pilfered from the wardrobe. As chance would have it, my storage room has racks of winter wear, and the only question was which to pick. 

 

Understanding what the directors are looking for is part of the job. Hence the need to ask questions. Try a few things. Make mistakes. Explore options. 

 

In each play there was a costume that I skirted around. Either it confused me, or I didn't have quite the right fabric, or the suggestions online were hard to implement. Last year it was the dragon. She was both scary and affectionate, if you can picture that. I found scaly fabric, and gave her a long pointy tail. In the end her costume was my favorite. With Annie I got stuck on the Boylan sisters. They sang a song, with matching blue satin dresses. I think I tried three iterations of white belts before we got it right. 

 

This month, it was the regalia of the Lemur King. Like the rest of his tribe he wore thick black glasses, a fur collar and a striped tail. Those twenty eight ensembles were easy. Or at least as easy as cutting fake fur into panels and sewing them back together. There was such a cloud of loose hair on my shirt John wondered if I had spent the day in a kennel. I recalled the time years ago when my son asked for a Ronald McDonald costume one Halloween eve, and since the fabric store did not offer red and white striped yardage I had sliced lengths of each color and sewn them back together. In time for a six o'clock party. 

 

But as the days danced by this week, I had to face it. The Lemur King wore a headdress and ornamental necklace that demonstrated his royalty. I had no idea where to begin. Beads? Sequins? Feathers? Sparkles? I had all of these in abundance, and yet I could not figure out exactly how to start. I distracted myself with ironing aprons, and glue gunning ears. But eventually I had to step into uncertainty. 

 

There are scores of boxes available, stuffed with the handiwork of a multitude of sewers. Finally I asked a past costumer, who told me to look in a box called neckwear. Near the bottom was a semicircle of brown beaded cloth, that fastened at the nape of the neck. I added fringe around the circumference, and the directors approved. 

 

I suppose life is like that. The perplexing pieces get shoved to the end of the line. But sometimes, looking back, those conundrums are our favorite memories.