And so it begins. The Christmas Party Season.
I’ve not been part of the offering before, usually I have to prioritise consistent shows but I could feel that sort of thing going south in this current environment. I accepted this job ages in advance. They have to programme it like that. Since then I’ve held it firm. This is a client that has been good to us over the years even if they can be tricky about money and they don’t fucking communicate.
At the costume fitting though, Ffion said “It’s not our job to pick up the costumes and transport them.” Ffion has taught me so much about boundaries, like Lou. I went with it even though it’s against my usual thinking. I kinda knew though that it wasn’t gonna be considered. I started making noise about it this morning because I didn’t want to get there and have no costume. “Do you know the costumes are still at Prangsta?” They got it there. I don’t know how. The external point is it isn’t my job to know or care how. But I do, I will. Always. And we could have made it easier.
Lovely costumes though.
Prangsta are a particular style and they are pricing themselves accordingly. Alice type stuff is absolutely their jam. In their early years they descended on Wilderness Festival with as many ripped and gorgeous young people as you can dream of all descending on the valley on the same night. “Ya, obviouslaar I got these Antlaars from Prangstaas”. They made a generation of middle class festival goers know the name of the costume place, those sexy lads and ladesses. I wanted one of the headdresses. My friends wanted the men wearing them.
My dear friend from today has an audition tomorrow for a pathologist and she’s a real trooper, she’s been through all the things. We met modelling in the nineties and even back then the dynamic was such that for me the client just wanted to make sure I could appear to be subservient and ignore how creepy they were. For her they wanted to put their hands on her and dehumanise her, as was standard practice. I remember the stories back in the day from my female modeling colleagues.
“Actors want to be objectified,” you hear it so so much from people who want to objectify us or pull out our agency or just should know better. “You guys love to be the centre of attention,” is a weapon that I’m so fucking bored of hearing deployed against this fellowship of weird but forward people who play pretend for money and frequently really actively don’t want to be the centre of attention actually, it’s just part of their job.
Anyway.
My friend is cunning, I was so impressed. She’s auditioning for a pathologist. She has no lab coat. She got me to drive her to a butcher and asked if she could borrow a smock for a self tape. The guy went down to the basement and came up with something that will pass for a lab coat, smelling of meat. She will bring it back but first she will send a tape with it. Impressive solving. And she’s a good actor. She’s learnt on the job. She understands it all from the other side from me – she’s going outside in. My best advice to her is to remind her to not “show” things. The less pressure we put on ourselves to demonstrate anything, the more we will find the truth. “DON’T DEMONSTRATE NOTHING,” was a key learn from the irreplaceable Vasili Scorik who mentored many of us at Guildhall.
Meanwhile musically on my journey through great albums, Rumours. I know it backwards anyway, who doesn’t? A hymn to the beauty hidden in addictive patterns and pain. So many great bands eat themselves. Sometimes they make a piece of art in the process. Fleetwood Mac did that.
Now I’m starting Purple Rain. #8 of 500. It is so unfamiliar to me that I’m astonished. We are still in the top ten. I’m gonna have a journey here.
AlBarclay 