Tuesday, October 2, 2007

What not to wear

My role is supporting. At times a plot device with legs.

My job is to give him character.

So when I met for a costume meeting last week, I came with ideas--I saw Bob as a colorful character, who wore colorful clothes--not outrageously so, but Hawaiian shirts, and at least one "conversation piece" that literally helped him start conversations. I'd discussed this with the director and he agreed.

He's the life of the party, and the life of the party doesn't wear Brooks Brothers. Sorry Brooks Brothers. Send me free clothes and prove me wrong, OK?

I personally have a lot of clothes. One normal-sized closet and one small closet. Both stuffed. I love clothes. I buy most of mine on eBay or at thrift stores, which is how I can 1) find unusual clothes, and 2) afford them.

So I had a lot for the costumer to choose from. I brought three suitcases full. One filled the trunk of my Miata, while the other two filled the passenger seat.

I got to the set and lugged my bags upstairs to show the costumer. I took them out, spread them on a bed, and she looked slightly ill.

"Oh, we're not going that colorful direction now," she told me, after I had spent the night packing, and today schlepping three bags full of colorful clothing.

"Nobody told me," I said, honestly.

"These things aren't going to work, they're not going to be happy with me," she said, looking at me like it was my fault that I didn't get the memo (if there was even a memo).

There were a couple of sedate Hawaiian shirts that might work for a scene later on, and finally one shirt emerged as a possibility: A beautiful blue silk shirt with flowers woven into it--very Japanese looking. It's got deep color and subtle pattern and stood out as "not boring."

The pant situation was, apparently, tragic, as I've brought black pants because they were the only pants I could find that didn't have cargo pockets and she wanted something dressy.

I should say that all my pants have cargo pockets--even the "nice" dressy ones. I have them in all colors and fabrics and even wore black corduroy cargo pants to my niece's wedding without anyone being shocked, appalled or nauseated.

But I do have pair of simple black pants I wear as part of my Barbershot Quartet costume, so I brought them.

"Remember I said 'no black'?" she said, accusingly.

"I thought that only applied to shirts," I said, honestly.

"No, black disappears, it'll make you look like a blob."

"I have looked like worse." I replied, which she ignored.

I ended up in the blue shirt with the black pants and a black leather belt with small silver concho's of fish I thought was right for the character, who fished.

I went down to the set. The director said, "Is this what you're wearing?" as if these were my daily street clothes.

I got called back upstairs and the costumer said, "We have to change the shirt." I heard different stories--the DP said it wouldn't photograph well, and worse, someone else had said it looked "Gay." Oh.

So she put me in gray, which everyone else was wearing but was was totally wrong for my character, and I saw the director pull her aside and talk to her. I couldn't hear the conversation, but I imagine he said that Bob, my character, is supposed to be colorful while the rest of them are gray. So back on went the blue shirt, but now the costumer added an almost neon purple/pink tie.

The result? The only explanation I can think of is that somewhere along the way it was decided that my character was colorblind. I went with that one.

I came downstairs and people looked at me as if I was an anime character who'd exploded. I just smiled. At least I will stand out.

At lunch I complained about the outfit. I said that I knew Bob, Bob was a friend of mine, and this isn't how my Bob would dress. My Bob had enough money that he was secure in his wealth and didn't have to impress anyone and he would wear nice cargo pants to welcome home a friend from the hospital.

That night I went through my closet again, this time trying to find shirts that were mildly colorful and lacking in pattern. And sweaters, she'd asked for sweaters. I have a lot of sweaters but they have a lot of pattern and many are so heavy I can't wear them unless it's freezing and I'm not ever going inside, which means I'll never wear them.

I filled up just one suitcase with possibilities and brought it with me on day 2.

I dragged it upstairs and was greeted with, "I hear you were complaining at lunch that I wouldn't let you wear cargo pants," the costumer said.

"No, I was saying that according to my knowledge of the character, Bob would wear cargo pants. I understand you have a different view, but I can only see it from my character's viewpoint." I explained, calmly.

"I have to see it from the perspective of what everyone else is wearing, how it's going to look against the furniture and how it fits into my vision of the entire structure of the film, and you aren't making it easy" she replied.

"I understand that you have a different viewpoint, but I am supplying my own costumes, I can only bring you the clothing that I have in my closet. I have brought more clothes than most men own and if these don't work for you, there's nothing I can do about it." I said, again calm.

I had brought a pleasant surprise--I'd found a pair of beige silk Tommy Bahama pants I'd just gotten at a nearby thrift store. She was thrilled with them.

But the shirts, not so much so the plain but colorful shirts were out.

Let's see--patterned shirts were out. Plain shirts were out. Colorful shirts--out. Drab shirts--out. This didn't leave a lot of options.

And the sweaters weren't colorful enough.

So--following through with the "Bob is colorblind" theme, she combined a blue shirt with a triangle print with a green sweater and I wore them with the beige pants. Well, actually, at first she let me wear my black cargo pants. Then, at the last second, she decided I would be too blobby and had me put on the beige ones.

The outfit had the effect of making me look even more like a colorblind Macy's day balloon than is really necessary, and also made me even warmer under all the lights.

I would really rather be a small black blob than a larger beige one, but that's just an actor's vanity talking.

Remember, the scene takes place at 7:30 AM someone close to Bob has been killed. Bob has, apparently, heard the news and had time to put on layers and silk pants.

I'm not saying she was wrong--she wanted us all to look upscale and was more upscale than what I'd see Bob wearing in such an event, which would be cargo jeans and a sweatshirt--or whatever he picked up on the floor on his rush over to help his best friend.

Remember--Bob's hobby is restoring old cars, Bob works on a construction site (he manages a construction company but he is onsite a lot). My Bob is not a dressy guy. Her Bob, is.

That night I went through my closet and found more clothes that tread the increasingly find line between plain and pattern, color and bland. And, just for fun, I included a few outrageous things which were totally inappropriate, just to see her reaction.

Day 3: I came in with more clothes. She way she looked at me made me imagine she was thinking, "Why can't you just bring in normal clothes?" These were as normal as I got. I'd been reduced to eliminating anything with character and bringing in the things I only wear when I want to be invisible.

Two silk shirts were acceptable, if I'd wear them under a jacket. I mentioned a khaki cotton safari jacket I hadn't brought thinking it was too information and she said, "I'm definitely feeling that," which is what she said when she thought something would work, which means it was only the second time I'd heard it, the first being the blue shirt that was tried, replaced, and then tried again.

I wore beige cargo pants from Old Navy with lots of pockets and I'm not sure if she was simply worn down at this point or what, but she said," those'll be fine for the construction site with one of these silk shirts and the safari jacket. OK.

Next we had to discuss what I'll be wearing next week at the "faux-LA" scene which is a party for investors (and hookers).

I can't be "too LA" and bright for some unknown reason (yes, I met with Asian investors earlier in the day but I would have plenty of time to change for the hookers), so I'll be wearing a dark blue jacket that doesn't fit well enough to close it (I warned her--so I'll also bring a green tweed blazer just in case, as well as a tan suede jacket that's really nice even if she said "too many other characters are wearing suede" as if there's some kind of rule about how many characters in a movie can wear leather), a light blue shirt, the beige silk pants, and my one pair of nice brown shoes, these beautiful Spanish-made Barrets 1890 wing tips (which I bought at a discount store solely because they are beautiful and have only worn once, otherwise they are decorative accessories in my office, rather than fashion accessories on my feet).

That sounds like a pretty boring outfit to wear to a party with hookers, but clearly it's not my vision of Bob.

And--since I must admit to having never actually been to a party with hookers, my fashion knowledge in this sphere is sadly lacking and I really don't know what's appropriate for such an festive occasion.

I will bring some interesting shirts, on the off change I can slip one under the jacket and take the jacket off when the costumer isn't looking. I'm bad, I know, but don't forget, I'm also at a party with fake hookers, so I'm clearly bad to the bone.

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