I remember so vividly long after the shows went dark, like a script freshly memorized, the smells and the exquisitness of the costumes, we were issued and allowed to don to become our character.
Fine wools and satin and silk, my favorite a Picaddilly Square tuxedo overcoat from 1910...... these were carefully hollowed out like pumpkin shells by our dressers, gently pulled over our shellacked hair and heavily made up faces.
Then they fell in historical folds around us and which allowed us to become someone else for two hours in a space and time from another world, all presented to orchestrated tunes.
The odors of the hairspray..and grease paint and deodorant mingled with wrigleys
and mouthwash hot coffees
and fear for every night
was a challenge to do that same perfect production unflawed, while the unknown
always smirked just outside the green room doors...
Oh..the roses we were often sent opening nights would make a fine quilt to cover all that we once knew as splendid.