The Costume Dragon Strikes Again

...but HA! I got her back.

You might remember my run-in with the Costume Dragon (others refer to her as the Costume Nazi but I really try to avoid using the word "Nazi" to describe otherwise perfectly nice people) at my first Chorale concert in October. What can I say? She takes her job seriously...a little too seriously, but that's just my opinion.

Our costumes for Chorale are what I lovingly call "old lady chic." There are a lot of older women in the group, and I am quite fond of them. So the outfits are long black skirts and loose black blouses (all polyesther) that are supposed to "skim, not hug" the various body types we have. The tops have three-quarter sleeves and one of those annoying hooks in the back that I can never hook myself. Laundering the polyesther tent is easy--I throw it in the washing machine on cold, hang it to dry. Done.

We also wear a $4 faux-pearl necklace.

Costume Dragon let the newbies know at the beginning of the year that we needed black hose and shoes...and proceeded to freak out at the first concert because my shoes had a teeny bit of white on them and my hose were nude because I'd been to sick to go out and buy black ones that week. You can read the older post for that drama.

Anyway, since that went down, I've steered clear of Costume Dragon at concerts, just in case she finds something offensive about my earrings ("not too sparkly, please!"), my hair clip, my eye makeup...whatever. She hasn't bothered me again.

Fast forward to this evening. It's starting to warm up in preparation for summer, and I've had a cranky, itchy couple of days. I stayed home from work today and slept for three hours. When I got to the church for call time, I was tired and still a little bit pissed off at the world for intruding on my life.

Instead of crashing on the couch with a book (and risking falling asleep), I grabbed my book, threw a t-shirt on with my skirt, and stuffed the polyesther tent top into my Chorale bag. I stopped at Subway for a sandwhich, figuring if I got mustard on a t-shirt, it's no big deal. The tent from hell, I have to wear twice this weekend, and I don't want it to smell like mustard.

I ate in my car while reading the latest Sookie Stackhouse book and listening to, what else, Keane on my iPod. Then I went inside for our pre-concert warm-up and last-minute rehearsal.

It was warm in the warm-up room, so I waited to put the tent on, choosing to warm up in my t-shirt. Another soprano had flip-flops on. Our esteemed conductor was in his undershirt, with his tux pieces on stand-by. It was warm!

Not two minutes into our warmup, the Costume Dragon approaches me and says, "Um...are you going to change for the concert?"

You know, two or three years ago I would have hastened to please her, but two years teaching in Antioch taught me not to let people walk all over me so I widened my eyes and said, "I left my blouse and pearls at home."

I watched in fascination as hundreds of panicked and angry thoughts passed over her face; then she laughed and said, "Oh, you!" I just smiled a very tight, unfriendly smile and said, "It's all here. I'm on it."

I mean, really. Am I three or thirty? Does she think I'm stupid? I'm a professional! I have a degree in music, and I know better than to show up at a Chorale performance with only a frickin' t-shirt! I paid for the damn costume, and I understood the directions that it's to be worn at every performance. I even wear the gaudy pearls, and, at Christmas, the red "drape" to add that little festive touch.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, our esteemed director gave us a quick break. I darted into the ladies' and changed into my tent. I then proceeded to sweat all over it for the next couple of hours. But the concert went well, the other soprano changed out of her flip-flops, and even our director managed to dress himself.

I suppose the Costume Dragon can rest easy tonight.