Chapter 61 – The Fitting
Motivated as they were by the prospect of the fitting, it didn’t take Helstof and Gale long to modify the costumes. They took what now was a slightly larger box of thongs to Selgey to check, not wanting to have to redo them again. They wanted to get on with the fitting itself. Selgey took the six different pieces out of the box, held them up one by one, smiled at the designs, and said, “These oughta work. Nice job.”
Gale practically ran to Gwen in the office, saying, “We’re ready. We’re ready.”
She said, “Jesus, Gale. It’s not like he’s Adonis. What do you think you’re going to see?”
“He may not be Adonis in the flesh, but this is the closest I’m likely to get to the next best thing. Where is he?”
“Selgey,” Gwen yelled out into the theater. “Your boy is wanted for his fitting.”
She waved ok, and took hold of Bart’s arm. The Whosey stopped blasting a refrain from the second act, all trumpets and flutes. Helstof and the Ps got up from the theater seats from which they had been watching Selgey and Bart practice an interlude movement, up and down an aisle. The circle of chairs formed in the center of the stage, the box of costumes sitting on the floor. Gwen looked at what may have been a small puddle of saliva on the floor in front of Gale, but she couldn’t be sure. Jesus.
Selgey said, “Ok, big boy. Let’s see some modeling. You’re on.”
Pater jumped up, said, “God, wait a minute. If this happens without the woman here, none of us ever will see a paycheck.” He ran to the back office and got her.
She sat down, and carefully put on her glasses. Now Roger thought he saw a drip drop from Gale’s mouth to the floor. He couldn’t be sure. Jesus.
Bart didn’t mess around. His sweats were off in a blink, and his jockstrap followed. As he bent down to pick up the first costume from the small box on the floor, he actually did look like the sculpture of Adonis in the southeast hallway of the Louvre, the Roman piece restored in 1799 by Francois Duquesnoy, and formerly in the collection of Cardinal Mazarin. He stood staring at the item, this one designed to look like the wings of an eagle. Dubiously he looked at the sharply projecting wing points, but when they proved to be soft and pliable, he put it on. Helstof said, “Gale wanted to make this one look like the talons of an eagle, gripping talons, if you know what I mean, but I vetoed that, and we ended up with wings.”
What surprised everyone was the remainder of the costume, the part that ascended above the wings, wrapped around his waist, and then descended, er, to connect again to the, er, rear of the wings. This was almost invisible. The woman said, “How did you do that. It’s almost invisible. What’s it made of?”
Helstof said, “It’s Kevlar, the fabric material they make bulletproof vests out of. Gale wanted to use fishing line, but I thought, Jesus, no. Kevlar can be manufactured in very thin strings, but it’s super strong, and soft and pliable at the same time.”
In an undertone, Gale said to Gwen, “In his case, it better be strong. Real strong.”
Bart said, “Feels good. I can hardly feel it at all. How’s it look?”
“Nice. Really nice. Good job, girls,” said Selgey.
“Heavy,” said the woman. “Looks very heavy. But nice.”
The Whosey said, “You’re going to wear that, on stage, in public? Just that? Are you crazy?”
Gale jumped up, defensively. “What’s wrong with it? It’s beautiful. And it meets the criteria we set. Aesthetic, not vulgar, and he looks naked. Almost. And not fake naked, like those flesh colored body suits.” Still defensive, she went to Bart, taking hold of the wings, she moved them around, vigorously, saying, “And functional. See. That was a criterion. Aesthetic, naked looking, and functional.” Defiantly, she looked around the circle for confirmation.
Bart said, “Ah, Gale, would you mind, ah….”
Looking first at his face, then down, she said, “Oh, shit. Sorry.”
Roger thought the only sorrow she felt was having to let go.
She sat down, and Bart proceeded to try on the other five pieces. There was one designed like a miniature golden fleece, a small American flag, an actual ruby red fig leaf, a twirling comet, and lastly, a reproduction of the Mona Lisa’s smile. Gwen smiled at all of them, but said, “Gale, lose the flag one. What were you thinking?” She looked around the circle. “Well, what do you think? Do they work?”
The woman clapped loudly. “Bravo. Bravo. Fantastico.” She liked them.
Roger did too, saying, “Good job. Just right. He looks almost naked.”
The Ps, together, asked, “Are there any for us? Can we try some on, even though we aren’t actually dancing? We can use them for practice.”
Townshend sat looking at Bart wearing the Mona Lisa’s smile costume. Finally he said, “You’re going to wear that, on stage, in public? Just that? Are you crazy?” Apparently he had turned a bit conservative in his old age.
Selgey said, “Dear, you sure it’s functional? FULLY functional? Protective? Comfortable? Secure? I don’t want anything to happen to….”
The Lost Ballet Page 61