BP News

The Iron, the Stitch and the Wardrobe

Having seen the Bancroft Players' excellent production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses which featured some spot-on acting and some very fine eighteenth century costumes, I thought I'd venture into territory seldom seen by many, much less considered by the paying audience - the QMT Wardrobe Department.

On entering the wardrobe itself, I was expecting a TARDIS moment, where the unpromising compact exterior reveals a cavernous interior. Sadly, when you enter the room you discover that it's actually smaller than it first appears, a sort of anti-TARDIS. Although, some of the outfits hanging on the rails do look like they were last used in a Doctor Who episode… in the 1970s!

There are several long rails of cloaks, dresses, suits, dressing gowns and a bright orange metallic ensemble with frilly cuffs. At the far end, covering three sides of the wall space are shelves four rows high filled with large plastic boxes with intriguing labels like "Fat Suits", "Medical", "Biblical/Clerical", "Panama Hats" (a whole box full?) and "Specialist Hats" (!?!?) - a treasure trove of costume.

The wardrobe team have already put away the costumes from their last sartorial triumph (Liaisons) and are busy preparing for their next production, Little Shop of Horrors. The evening started with a meeting in the theatre foyer where a member of the production team briefed the wardrobe team on the costume requirements of the show. The wardrobe team can turn their hand to anything from 18th Century corsettes to 1950s hobos and carnivorous plants. Even contemporary shows and minimalistic productions need costuming of some sort, even if it's providing a tatty jumper for one scene.

The team are at the theatre every Monday evening (unless there is a show on) and it is becoming a busy evening for them. While the wardrobe briefing is taking place a gentleman walks in from North Herts College to borrow some costumes for a show. He walks out with a pile of costumes in his arms and a smile on his face. Later, another gentleman turns up to donate some costumes and then Rosemary turns up with a pair of trousers. Upon spying the trousers Alison exclaims, "Valmont's trousers, the bane of my life!" In reply, Rosemary suggests they ought to be framed. From what I gather, without the sterling efforts of the wardrobe team and some gaffer tape Les Liaisons Dangereuses would have become The Blue Room.

Following the wardrobe briefing, the team start methodically sorting through the rails and boxes for items suitable for the production. Charity shop rejects will be turned into hobo outfits and craft foam turned into flower petals - add in some card and sticky-back plastic and you'd have an edition of Blue Peter. The words "you know, like those dresses in Sheila's wheels..." floats free from a pile of taffeta gowns, along with a brief discussion on the merits of Alma Cogan's wardrobe. Overall, I hear laughter - the kind of laughter you hear when a group of people are having fun doing something they love.

Inexplicably, I find myself making suggestions and joining in... it must be contagious! After sorting through the wardrobe, the team relax in the bar with their drinks kitty (it's a tin labelled "Wardrobe Orphans Fund" - all contributions welcome), where they inform me that they are always on the lookout for new members to help share the responsibility of costuming shows.

So if you'd like to join the wardrobe team, let Alison know via the pigeon-holes or come along on a Monday evening (from approximately 7.30pm) to introduce yourself. You will become a member of an essential team. For without the wardrobe team there would be no shows. Without the wardrobe, the actors would be naked - and that, dear reader, is a truly terrifying thought.

Louise Dade
BP News' own "Embedded Reporter"