Imagine your closet. Multiply that times a billion and four.
For a few days over the past week, I've been helping with the proper care and feeding of the Amarillo Little Theatre's costume storage. The short term for this is "heaven."
That nickname has made for amusing conversations in my home, being that when I use the name as it pertains to storage, it's usually with a fair amount of dread. One reason is that it's either boiling or freezing up there, with little in-between, and the other reason is that it's just a daunting prospect. It's huge. Enormous. Gargantuan.
I don't think I've got an adjective for the sheer massive amount of STUFF that there is in heaven.
Which is why it's normally used like, "Ugh. I have to go to heaven." Which always elicits, "Mom? Shouldn't you want to go to heaven?" from my children. Ah, the progeny of theatre folks. I expect they'll spend some time in therapy before it's all said and done.
In any case, temperature aside, I don't think it'll be as bad to visit heaven this season. Seven or eight years ago, I was on the crew to move all of the costumes from an area one tenth of the space to its current locale. All this time later, it's become a bit messy.
A 'bit' is on the conservative side. Honestly, I wish I had a before photo.
And there's many, many costumes that didn't make it into the photo. I just couldn't get far enough back to get them all. All zillion of the men's suits, the tuxedos, the military uniform costumes...
These clear plastic tubs (I'd estimate about 100 or more of them) hold things like hats, shoes, ties, shawls, belts, etc. There are three just for purses, alone.) They have titles like "Fat suits" and "ostrich costume" and "beggars and lepers." The latter of which never fails to make me laugh. I mean, come on! A whole tub dedicated to the costumes of beggars and lepers? That's comedy gold, is what that is.
I've also had the pleasure of spending some time with Don, a fabulous actor who works for the theatre. He had the thankless task of heavy lifting, hanging and re-hanging costumes we sifted through. And saying witty, amusing things to make me laugh. His other main job is bickering with Tana.
Tana (who proclaimed that she would not stand still for a picture) is the theatre's scenic designer and volunteer coordinator (call her if you want to get involved). That's her official title, but it probably encompasses a thousand or more other things. Like bickering with Don, and clearing up heaven.
I've never met two people who have a better work ethic. And who sound more like siblings when they fight than any other two people I know. Even actual siblings. I'm considering featuring them in a play, they're that funny.
In any case, they made the work fun, and made the prospect of going up to heaven this season completely bearable. I don't think I'll ever want to go to ALT's heaven as much as the actual place, but after this cleanup, it'll certainly be a lot closer than before.
That nickname has made for amusing conversations in my home, being that when I use the name as it pertains to storage, it's usually with a fair amount of dread. One reason is that it's either boiling or freezing up there, with little in-between, and the other reason is that it's just a daunting prospect. It's huge. Enormous. Gargantuan.
I don't think I've got an adjective for the sheer massive amount of STUFF that there is in heaven.
Which is why it's normally used like, "Ugh. I have to go to heaven." Which always elicits, "Mom? Shouldn't you want to go to heaven?" from my children. Ah, the progeny of theatre folks. I expect they'll spend some time in therapy before it's all said and done.
In any case, temperature aside, I don't think it'll be as bad to visit heaven this season. Seven or eight years ago, I was on the crew to move all of the costumes from an area one tenth of the space to its current locale. All this time later, it's become a bit messy.
A 'bit' is on the conservative side. Honestly, I wish I had a before photo.
And there's many, many costumes that didn't make it into the photo. I just couldn't get far enough back to get them all. All zillion of the men's suits, the tuxedos, the military uniform costumes...
These clear plastic tubs (I'd estimate about 100 or more of them) hold things like hats, shoes, ties, shawls, belts, etc. There are three just for purses, alone.) They have titles like "Fat suits" and "ostrich costume" and "beggars and lepers." The latter of which never fails to make me laugh. I mean, come on! A whole tub dedicated to the costumes of beggars and lepers? That's comedy gold, is what that is.
I've also had the pleasure of spending some time with Don, a fabulous actor who works for the theatre. He had the thankless task of heavy lifting, hanging and re-hanging costumes we sifted through. And saying witty, amusing things to make me laugh. His other main job is bickering with Tana.
Tana (who proclaimed that she would not stand still for a picture) is the theatre's scenic designer and volunteer coordinator (call her if you want to get involved). That's her official title, but it probably encompasses a thousand or more other things. Like bickering with Don, and clearing up heaven.
I've never met two people who have a better work ethic. And who sound more like siblings when they fight than any other two people I know. Even actual siblings. I'm considering featuring them in a play, they're that funny.
In any case, they made the work fun, and made the prospect of going up to heaven this season completely bearable. I don't think I'll ever want to go to ALT's heaven as much as the actual place, but after this cleanup, it'll certainly be a lot closer than before.