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Monologues and Shopping For Clothes - Words of a Feather

For those of you who know me, you might be wondering what women know about clothing? Isn't she the one who's wearing the best Costco blue jeans and the 1991 "Fun in the Sun" tee? Now is a good time because I have to get out of the closet, so to speak. I sewed and designed clothes for my dolls and cats (to my parents' great concern) as soon as my mother gave me a needle, which was a bit early. She was an amazing seamstress, sewing with the smallest and most intricate stitches.

I can probably spend my life, and sometimes it seems like I'm there, watching classic films from the 1930s. Who cares if the action looks too big and the plot a bit complicated by today's standards? I'm satisfied with just wearing that dress! There will be, can there be another Edith Head, William Shakespeare fashion Hollywood? And the fur gown that Ginger Rogers danced on "Cheek to Cheek" with Fred Astaire on "Top Hat." Now there is something precious to death, though all the whirlwinds and spins and feathers outside it have been uncharlyly likened to "coyote-attacked chickens."

But I'm shaking. In a recent acting class, I struggled with choosing the right monologue. No matter how the teacher explains it, the concept won't work. Of course I hear and understand all the words - search for emotional journey, arc; make sure it ends in a different place from where it started; save under 90 seconds so if you run a little further, you won't lose - but try as I might, there's only a gift in the Cracker-Jack box. I tried scripts and scripts and was no closer to choosing a monologue than when I first started. With so many incomparable writings out there, so many beautiful words and characters and emotions - how could I choose? Then, as if someone finally uttering magic words, the trumpet explodes and the sky opens. The information that flew around my brain was like the ostrich feathers settling in at last, as I did on the appropriate piece.

Finding a monologue is like shopping for clothes. Now if you've taken it off, I don't like clothes, I prefer clothes. I spent an amazing afternoon wandering the streets of Saks and Neiman Marcus, inhaling delicate hypnotic scents, moving my fingers along fine works, admiring bold new patterns, shocked by the unmistakable honesty of the classic cuts never ending. Everything about my clothes, stitches, fabrics, curtains, colors, and decorations - maybe into the silent horror of a salesperson seeing Costco's faded jeans. And when it comes to smaller exclusive boutiques, I prefer to give them a big bed, because salespeople are more likely to have conversations and cause problems or worse when I'm not buying.

I was much safer at thrift stores where I could dig without a cloth meter, searching for a victory that no one else wanted. I forgot, did I tell you about the beautiful Brooks Brothers customized with a tweed jacket that I jumped on last year for five dollars and wore it proudly until it was thin? You understand, right? Well, I know most of you do. I can't pay full price for clothes when I can get the same for coffee and small business, especially when the business is fun.

Although at the moment you know I love to see and to dress, sewing for a single diamond in the ground, I don't want them all. Just like all clothes are not for me, so is a monologue. Very delicate silk dresses, seriously satin blouses and skirts and embroidered jackets, new and vintage, are all beautiful. As much as I admire them, what will I do to all of them in the world? As expected, things didn't work out, something was wrong or the color wasn't right for me, and others were nowhere to go. Clothing, like words, should suit not only your body and your personality, but your circumstances.

I can handle my finger on the edge of an exotic and thought-provoking belt, but just like a belt is not a complete outfit, it's not a beautiful sentence or paragraph. It's a component. The beauty of Violetta's aria at the end of La Traviata would have been diminished had it not been for the music tapes that were the whole opera. Great game words or fun movies and then high emotions that allow us to experience one moment at a time with eternity, just as colors, pieces, and gauze transform the fabric into a moving art, and solitary notes into the river of music.

Just as some clothes are better suited for women who are from different cultures or have a different lifestyle than mine, so are some monologues. Just like I was at 5 & 8 "and of Brazilian heritage, I couldn't bring Cio-Cio-San from Madame Butterfly, although I had a voice or could convince kimono, at least I couldn't convince them the quote that Pearl spoke to her. Winnie Louie's Chinese birth in "The Kitchen God's Wife."

But it still hurts when I think of the pale gray Armani work I saw on eBay. It may go south for $ 200, but it's not for me. Dots just aren't connected. The waist was cut too high and the color ... well, it would wash me out. However, it will be amazing to someone with more beautiful skin.

Age is another important criterion for suitability. I cried when Juliet admired her love for Romeo, but the same words would have made no sense to me coming from someone my age like wearing a miniskirt. Not only does language need to flow as easily as a dress, poorly chosen words can make you stumble as if the cut was wrong or the stilettos were too small.

On the contrary, just as much as some designer clothes seem to do for me - so do the words of some writers. The heavy emotion of Tennessee Williams' mature heroine suits me, as does the color and fabric of Mary McFadden couture.

And while every woman needs a classic classic black dress, how do you access and make it yours, depending on the occasion, your individual style sense and the impression you want to make. You can wear the same clothes to church or night club. Are you playing a nun, or a bra?

But sometimes even the most classic clothes can be too much, as there is a great Brooks Brothers jacket that I mentioned that has finally found its way into the trash can. It has been worn for a long time, such as "Streetcar" and "Tree," and a number of pieces are so beautiful that every woman wants to see them. Unless you have some great ways to make them look fresh and fresh, avoid them as you will have great hair and an army of eighties.

Of course not everything should be haute couture. Great pieces can be found and found at Target. I really wanted to make Jules's brilliant monologue in "Pulp Fiction" when he fought with himself whether or not to impress someone with forty-five people. But sometimes even though I'm pragmatic, knowing that it might be a little better than attending an Easter church in St Peter's is dressed in a colorful bikini. No, not all monologues are good for all tests, just as not all clothes are suitable for all occasions, no matter how much you love them.

Once I can buy clothes on eBay, I can read movie scripts, presentations, books, and play the internet. All it takes is to find, explore and imagine. Does the length and cut fit? Is the item's age and gender appropriate? Is it the right color? Is it my culture or heritage? Is the ensemble finished - does it all have enough nuance to make people pay attention? Do monologues have different emotional journeys? Will it reach my target? If so, where? Does it compliment my assets and minimize the expectations of people who will never be able to remember? Does this piece highlight my ability to convey emotions that resemble deep and natural within me, or does it just make me look fat?

As I said, finding the right monologue is like shopping for clothes. The point is that you can't look at the bottom line. It has to match well!

Now, if you haven't realized that I'm a forgiving and easy-going woman, you should know I'm still looking for ... a good woman, who dropped me on eBay for a beautiful $ 3,000 Emanuel Ungaro jacket. One hundred dollars! Can you believe it? I know her everywhere, anytime, so she'll be advised to never wear them!


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