Lisha Cassibo has been writing for the Uxbridge Cosmos for two years, both as a freelancer and as a columnist. She has also written for several parenting magazines both here in Canada and for English publications in Switzerland. She graduated from Carleton University with an honours degree in Journalism and English Literature. She lives with her family in Sunderland.
Fashion Sense
Never judge a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes.
That's how the saying goes, isn't it? Well, I've walked, or rather, driven, a few hundred kilometres, in another's shoes, and believe me, I will never, ever, as long as I live, so much as wrinkle my nose, make a disparaging noise, or even throw a fit inside my head, when a costume designer for a show I'm in dresses me in something that I find less than flattering or favourable. I promise.
I'm not even sure if I volunteered, or was volunteered, to take on doing the costumes for OnStage Uxbridge's upcoming production of 12 Angry Men. It was a given from the start that I obviously would never get a part in the play, but I just gotta have my regular theatre fix, and apparently putting in mega-hours while my daughter participated in the last OnStage show, which followed close on the heels of a two-month run of my own, wasn't enough, so I told the producer that I would be able to lend a hand somewhere. What I would really love to try my hand at is stage managing, but I knew I wouldn't be available for the last two shows, so the stage manager couldn't be me. A couple of emails later, I found myself saddled with the dubious honour of having to dress 13 men in late 1950s courtroom jury garb. How hard could it be, I asked myself? Get a few books, look up men's period fashion online, watch a few episodes of Leave It To Beaver and I would be all set, good to go. My guys (I call them that, now. My guys...) would look swell.
I got together with the set designer and she showed me the colour palette that would look best with the fabulous set she was going to create. Excellent! I didn't even need to think about colours, it was all being done for me! A trip to Chances Are, a trip to Value Village and I'd be, we'd all be, whistling the tune to The Andy Griffith Show in no time at all.
For not the first time in my life, God reached down and slapped me upside the head.
Who knew that there is no Value Village in Markham, when you really, really need one? Who knew that men's ties vary in width so dramatically, from the super skinny to the so-wide-it's-almost-a-bib, all in one decade? Who knew that lapel sizes varied along with the ties? And why is it not public knowledge that men's suits rarely have sizes labeled on them anywhere, and when they are labeled, the label is tucked so far down inside an inner pocket on a jacket that you have to pick apart seams and turn the suit inside out just to find the number “42”. I'm sure there are many, many of you out there shaking your head at me, wondering how I've gotten through the past 40-some-odd years not having this information at my disposal. Now that I think about it, though… I read a lot of magazines, and never, no never, have I seen an article devoted to “How to Outfit Your Man,” or “Understanding His Tailor,” or “What He Really Means When He Says His Inseam is 30.” I think one of those may have really helped.
The topper, though, the killer of all this - imagine what it is to outfit not one, not two, but 13 men that are NOT standing in front of you! Bad enough when you don't quite get the whole suit versus sport jacket versus casual versus dress pant thing in the first place, but try putting it all together on an imaginary person, the only clues to their physique being a few random numbers on a piece of paper. It's like Christmas shopping for those hard-to-buy-fors on your list - you kind of have an idea, but you're not really sure if it's right.
You have to know that I didn't really think it was all going to be as super easy as I wrote earlier. And I didn't really think my task, along with my palette, was going to be as black and white as those early sitcoms. And I am not so naïve as to not know the difference between a single and a double-breasted suit (do guys have only one breast? Ha ha…) But I did learn. And while I pride myself on knowing a fair bit about the theatre world and how all the different roles, both on and off stage, work together to create the piece you see before you, I gained a whole new respect for those who do the grunt work behind the scenes. Where are their stars on the Walk of Fame? Do they earn kazillions a year, making the likes of Her Film Majesty Angelina Jolie look good (or bad, as the case may be)? Do they ever see their name in lights? You can bet they don't. Next time I see my favourite costume mistresses, I'm going to give them big, fat hugs. This fall, when the costume mistress at Herongate tells me I have to wear a fat suit and a nurse's costume, I shall grin widely and tell her to bring it on! Because I know it took her hours to sew, put together, and find just the right look to make the entire production look good, if not a little wacky.
And, in yet another act of shameless promotion, check out the production of 12 Angry Men (opening Apr. 5), and just try to tell me those guys don't look fantastic.
