The Hives Attack

When your cross-dressing costume gives you hives…

From Maggie Stack:

KT Nelson gets pretty ambitious when it comes to choreographing her children’s production of The Velveteen Rabbit. When I started with ODC, I hopped right into the bunny-suit extravaganza. There was a lot of velvet, which I was not aware of when I came up with new moves for the toy chest scene. Me and the other toy dancers proposed loads of extremely physical stuff–many fast jumps, turns and lifts with very little time for breathing room. It was sweat city in the studio. I had no idea what I was really getting myself into until they handed me the costume.  

It was an original vintage piece dating back approximately 15 years in a vivid palette of greens and yellows. I was playing “Tim” or, as the many females that danced the role before me dubbed him, “Tim the Tranny.” He was huge. Well, the costume was huge. It consisted of five parts. The first, a giant pair of velvet pants with two pound pads over each thigh. The second, a thick velvet jacket with an equally thick collar. The third, a five pound hat that curled up on either side and sported a foot long protrusion sticking out the top finished off with a pompom. The fourth, sweet little fuzzy shoe balls strapped over bright white ballet slippers. And finally, the fifth touch–matching bright yellow gloves. The full get up added a nice amount of weight to any small frame and left no room for light or air. The icing on the cake? Every interior pad was lined in velvet. Maybe they worried it would accidentally get put on inside out? Whoever designed that part was a complete fool.  

I remember my first show well. As if the amount of fabric wasn’t enough to get used to–factor in a three minute quick change from an equally intricate get up, stage lights, children being rallied around backstage and a shortage of breath. I thought I might pass out. I had help from a stage hand to force each limb into the velvety goodness. There was a system:

  1. Strip naked down to drenched nude thong.
  2. Stage hand holds hips and tries not to check out my white bottom as I step into pants.
  3. Stage hand puts arms through jacket and zips up the back while I struggle with hat.
  4. Stage hand secures foot embellishments while I finish struggling with hat and start to struggle with gloves.
  5. Run!

We made it to step one and I heard a deep intake of breath behind me. 

Stage hand: “Maggie, are you OK?”

Me: “Itchy.”

Stage hand: “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” 

I was head to toe in giant red hives. I was on fire. We spoke no further, I finished dressing and ran on stage. 

My first move was a short solo to go along with the recorded narration: “Even TIMOTHY, the jointed wooden doll,” (execute forward roll as my hat is pulled off and left dangling round my neck by an elastic band, choking me), “who was made by the disabled soldiers,” (smile, try to pull off hat. fail.), “and should have had broooooooooooader views,” (begin loosing oxygen to my brain), “put on airs.” 

I rapped up my jaw-dropping solo by ripping the elastic band from my neck and throwing the hat into the wing. The truth was out. The secret was revealed to all the innocent children:

Timothy was a GIRL. 

But thankfully, by the grace of my sweet get-up, my butt hives were covered by thick layers of velvet. 

Maggie Stack

Want more costume fun?