When we get to the hall, there are already people there. The dim voices and strains of music travel down the stairs and through the entry to our waiting ears. I run up the stairs because I know I only have thirty minutes until show time. Tonight is the last dress rehearsal and it involves full costume: clothing, face, hair, shoes and a right mind. My costume always seems to take longer to install on my person than I assume it will.
There are friends gathered at the front, chattering. Some are practicing certain measures of the music over and over. Some are already in costume. Some are laughing. Some are quiet. Each exudes comfort; we are in the presence of friends, working towards a common goal. It feels homelike. Parents sit in random seats throughout the auditorium, waiting to help their children into costume or put on makeup or comfort them if their shoes seem to have disappeared.
My beaded robe slides over my head easily and my hair goes up with a twist. I ask my mother-in-law where the shoes are. She has such a great closet and we all tend to borrow from her. She points them out and voilà! I am no longer tracking dirty snow everywhere. And my feet sparkle, which admittedly, is far more important.
Two of the girls come up the stairs carrying dishes. "We brought food!" Everyone's ears perk up. A few minutes later, the green room is filled with people laughing and talking with their mouth's full. So many of us come straight from work with no time for eating. Roast beef and buns have never been so relished. One of our musicians is also a teacher of the fiddle and she is endeavoring to teach over the noise of the people. I overhear her say, "Funny how four people make so much noise." She looks annoyed and she is... but she isn't really. One of us will make it up to her later, somehow.
My roast beef is washed down with some water and I am back in the dressing room. I help put makeup on one of the girls and am about to begin another when it is announced that the makeup lady is back. She wants to do me first since my transformation will be intense through the show. She begins by making me smear lotion all over my face. She runs an eyeliner pencil under my eyes. It hurts but I know the end result will be worth it. She's that good.
"2 minutes!" the director announces. My makeup isn't done but the artist assures me that it will be. And she's right. By the time she's done with my face and I have managed to put on my microphone, it's only just time to walk on stage. The over-voice starts to drone... show on. My nerves begin and my adrenaline is sky high.
Last dress rehearsal. Show time is for real tomorrow.
There are friends gathered at the front, chattering. Some are practicing certain measures of the music over and over. Some are already in costume. Some are laughing. Some are quiet. Each exudes comfort; we are in the presence of friends, working towards a common goal. It feels homelike. Parents sit in random seats throughout the auditorium, waiting to help their children into costume or put on makeup or comfort them if their shoes seem to have disappeared.
My beaded robe slides over my head easily and my hair goes up with a twist. I ask my mother-in-law where the shoes are. She has such a great closet and we all tend to borrow from her. She points them out and voilà! I am no longer tracking dirty snow everywhere. And my feet sparkle, which admittedly, is far more important.
Two of the girls come up the stairs carrying dishes. "We brought food!" Everyone's ears perk up. A few minutes later, the green room is filled with people laughing and talking with their mouth's full. So many of us come straight from work with no time for eating. Roast beef and buns have never been so relished. One of our musicians is also a teacher of the fiddle and she is endeavoring to teach over the noise of the people. I overhear her say, "Funny how four people make so much noise." She looks annoyed and she is... but she isn't really. One of us will make it up to her later, somehow.
My roast beef is washed down with some water and I am back in the dressing room. I help put makeup on one of the girls and am about to begin another when it is announced that the makeup lady is back. She wants to do me first since my transformation will be intense through the show. She begins by making me smear lotion all over my face. She runs an eyeliner pencil under my eyes. It hurts but I know the end result will be worth it. She's that good.
"2 minutes!" the director announces. My makeup isn't done but the artist assures me that it will be. And she's right. By the time she's done with my face and I have managed to put on my microphone, it's only just time to walk on stage. The over-voice starts to drone... show on. My nerves begin and my adrenaline is sky high.
Last dress rehearsal. Show time is for real tomorrow.
