Fun With Hats

Why didn't I take pictures today?
I went to work on costumes for the high school musical. The kids are doing Kiss Me Kate. Tucker is Fred, although I haven't seen the movie or play, so really don't know what that means.
Today, Jenny, the woman in charge of costumes, told me to find hats. They need 1940s hats and Shakespearean hats. Apparently the actors in Kiss Me Kate are performing The Taming of the Shrew, a play within a play.
Jenny searched for images of Shakespearean hats to show me. Mostly, I thought they looked like throw pillows on people's heads. Here's an example.
Then I had to decide whether to search through the throw pillow box or the hat box. I could take throw pillows, add feathers and cut holes in the bottom of pillows so they fit on the kids' heads.
Truthfully, a beret with some tissue paper pushed into the corners and some gold braid along the edge would work too and might be a little easier.
Letting me loose in a room with bins full of hats might have been her first mistake.
Within minutes I was back out in the hallway modeling hats.
Sometimes, when you see a hat, you just have to put it on.

This bamboo hat was awesome, but I couldn't convince Jenny that it would work. Although she later found a woman's hat from the 1940s with the same shape and covered with fabric. So we might make it work yet.
Jenny threatened to take the job away from me if I didn't get serious. So I went back and started sorting through hats.
I found a lovely olive green beret. I put it on and began to sing "La Vie en Rose."
I continued to paw through fedoras and driving caps when I heard Jenny call me from out in the hallway.
I hurried out there again, forgetting about the beret. Jenny and her son, Eli, started to laugh.
"Every time you come out you have a different hat on," Eli said.
Isn't that the point of finding hats?
A hat can definitely transform you.
We also pulled some fancy women's hats for the 1940s. Hats similar to this.
I also found a hat that had a scarf attached that ties under the woman's chin. Jenny threatened to remove the scarf part but I protested.
Someone else in the group reminded us that the Baroness from The Sound of Music had worn a hat like that.

I carried the pile of hats into the hallway for Jenny to approve or discard. Then she called a meeting of the wardrobe crew and everyone put on a hat as we discussed what needed to be accomplished to complete the costumes in three weeks.
At one point the music director walked into the hallway and started laughing. We all looked at him puzzled then he pointed out the hats.
We'd forgotten.

Feathers Flying

Last week, my 13-year-old picked up his backpack off the floor and gave a sigh of exasperation. "Everyday I go to school leaving a trail of feathers," he complained.
It's true. My house is full of feathers. And I don't own a bird.
The musical at the high school this year is the story of the Ugly Duckling and I am, once again, working on costumes. The borrowed sewing machine is set up at the end of our dining room table, right in front of a heating vent
When the heat kicks on, the cut off pieces of yellow boa feathers stream up in the air then float down like tiny jelly fish under the ocean. We'll be in the middle of a conversation when a little, yellow jellyfish boa comes floating down before our eyes.
(This may make a general statement about my housekeeping capabilities that may appall some readers.)
No one in the play is wearing a chicken suit, though.
Since the fall play, Little Women, Jennie and I have been going to the costume room every week and reorganizing it. We've removed, classified and folded every piece of clothing in there. Then suddenly spring musical was upon us. Luckily, with 35 cast members, some other mothers have stepped in to help, as well.
Jennie and I "pulled" the necessary clothes from the boxes then we set to adding feathers.
I'm in charge of the costumes for the four ducklings and the evil cat.
Every time I cut one of the yellow boas, the pieces flew everywhere, including up my nose. I've swiffered and vaccuumed, but those yellow jellyfish boas keep escaping, much to the consternation of the cats who thought the boas and yellow tulle were only for attacking anyway. They'll stare in suspicion at the piece of yellow feather flying through the air.
The ducklings are the smallest girls in the cast. I'm not crazy about their orangish tshirts and leggings, but I do love the yellow tutus. The male duckling has a tail with tulle and boas, but it is not nearly as poofy as the girls' tutus.
The cat is wearing a pin-striped suit and I had to add fur down his back. I twisted some pipe cleaners together to fill out the tail and give it a little shape. Then I added some fur to his lapels. He's supposed to have a sleazy, 1980s look to him.

The rest of the time, I've been hemming pants, shorts and skirts then sewing boas onto them.
Grace has a nice part as a domesticated chicken, which she plays with a thick southern accent. Her best friend is a female cat and they have a nice duet, along with a solo for Grace. I'm excited for this production to get on stage and then be over.
I'm so sick of feathers yet don't have the energy to clean up the ones that remain in my house. The show is this weekend, so after Saturday, I'm finished with feathers.

Bloomer Injury

I'm sitting here with a hot pack on my lower back which hurts whenever I stand up. The pain hit me in the middle of the night, approximately 2:37 a.m. when I got up with my youngest son to get him ibuprofen and Sudafed for his virus.
Within minutes I had diagnosed my lower back pain -- bloomer injury.
In my spare time, I've been helping with costumes for the fall play Little Women. Mostly I've had to take in pants, sew ribbons on collars and put velcro in place of buttons for quick changes. Then came the challenge. The four daughters in the play must have bloomers. Never mind that no one will ever see the bloomers. They help make the characters feel more authentic.
I was given an assortment of sheer white material and used bed sheets to cut bloomers from. So Wednesday morning, on my day off, I was bent over the table trying to cut around the pattern with dull scissors. My husband wandered out of bed and pushed me aside. He took over the cutting.
I moved to the armchair and the coffee table where my sewing machine was set up. I had not seen the sewing machine since we moved. As a matter of fact, this is the old sewing machine and I know that I have a newer one somewhere that I inherited from Earl's mom, but we can't find it. After two years of not running, the machine is complying, although an electrical short somewhere causes the needle not to move at all while I have my foot holding down the pedal then it will suddenly race. It's a little temperamental.
I completed one pair of bloomers while Earl cut out another pattern (winning big husband points).
Then I went about my day, grading papers, shopping at the thrift store for more costume needs, studying algebra with my 13-year-old. I was blissfully ignorant of the pending bloomer injury that had already taken place but was worming its way into my muscles.
Just as I diagnosed myself, I am also in charge of treatment. Heat. Cancelled run this morning and even called off trip to work out at the Y. I thought about going and if a weight machine hurt my back then I would stop, but since I didn't recognize the bloomer injury when it occurred, I might not recognize that a weight machine was exacerbating the problem. So I'm staying home, grading papers, and I might move the sewing maching to the dining room table so I can show those bloomers who is boss and finish the other three pairs.