Love, Loss and What I Wore

On opening night. the small theatre used by Naked Stage in Surrey has only a few rows of chairs. Audience members chat among themselves, and many seem to know each other. Just before the doors close and the performance begins, I hear a funny snippet of conversation and decide I should write it down.

Having come out with only pockets and no purse, I turn to the bearded man beside me.

“I don’t suppose you have a pen?”

“Afraid not.”

At that moment, I notice something unusual and can’t stop myself asking. “Do you always carry around a jar of honey?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Always. Never know when you’ll need it.” He rolls his program around it protectively.

The lights go down, and five women walk onstage to take the row of chairs that await them. The only stage prop is an old-fashioned pale pink evening dress draped around a dummy.

In connected monologues, the actors talk about outfits remembered from important moments in their lives. Biography through clothing.

The audience can clearly relate. Their memories of joyful and sad moments, times of hope and milestones of embarrassment reminds us of our own experiences. Frequently, we laugh aloud with chagrin.

This talk of garments reminds me of certain favourite pieces of clothing in my own life. Just before starting high school, my Mum let me order a red viyella dress with grey mouton collar and cuffs from the Sears catalogue. It cost the princely sum of $6.99, and we ordered size 12, the largest child’s size available. But I was growing fast and the waist was a bit too high. I refused to send it back, and wore it many times, being sure to have it on the day we got our school pictures taken.

The first coat I bought with money I’d earned myself was an elegant silver gray leather, also from the catalogue. Alas, tragedy struck while it was brand new. On its first outing, a woman failed to stop her dog from going after my coat tails. Shocked by the attack, I froze while the ignorant mutt chewed a big hole through the leather. The dog owner didn’t even apologize. My $85 coat was effectively ruined. I couldn’t afford to replace it, so I had to wear it hole and all.

When the actors talked about bras, the women in the audience related, and reacted predictably reacted with laughter. I remembered my own first bra — a hand-me-down from my older sister that I wore until Mom bought me a new one.

Amazing how simple memories of loved and hated clothing can bring an audience together, evoking memories of some of the big emotional stories of our lives.

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The Bullet that Missed by Richard Osman

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The Lady with the Gun Asks the Questions by Kerry Greenwood