Here's the difference between a lucrative, well established long running hit on Broadway - and everything else:
In everything else, for example, you meet the Costume Designer in the basement lobby of the shitty theater on 46Th street (because there's no proper fitting or dressing room with a mirror in which to meet) during a five minute break from rehearsal (when you might get a chance to take a bite from a PowerBar and have a sip of water), where she asks you if you have any clothes that might be appropriate to use as costumes for the new play you've just been cast in (as the emergency replacement because they've decided that the guy they originally hired {who wasn't really an actor, but rather a model who wanted to try acting and was an old student of the director and so she thought she'd give him a chance} doesn't have the "chops" to play the role and now you've been cast and you've got about 4 days to learn it before previews start) because:
A: she has no budget;
B: she's working on a show at the Midtown International Theater Festival and the New York International Fringe Festival , and is about to start working on a show at the New York Musical Theater Festival (none of which she is being paid for, of course) and has absolutely no time to go out and look for a costume for you;
C: she has no budget;
D: you're 6'4" and it's gonna be impossible to find a 1930's costume (the show takes place in 1936) that is going to be close to your size and even if she did find one she doesn't have the time or money to have it altered to fit you;
E: she has no budget;
F: and do you also possibly have a 1930's Fedora hat that matches the as-yet unfound costume because you also have a really big head (7 5/8) and if you think it's gonna be hard to find a three piece 1930's suit that can be altered to fit you, wait until you try and find a 1930's Fedora hat that is 7 5/8 and matches the as-yet unfound suit;
G: she has no budget... shall I go on?
Now, on "The Broadway", as we like to refer to it, things work a little differently. On "The Broadway" you get a leisurely call from Angie the Assistant Costume Designer from MAMMA MIA! wondering if you have time next week to come in to Barbara Matera's (one of the leading Broadway Costume production houses in New York City) to meet her so she can take measurements for the custom made costumes that they will be building for you. Checking your schedule, you reply, "Sure, how's next Wednesday or Thursday sound?", to which she, being the busy professional that she is, checks her schedule and responds, "Thursday at 12noon sounds good."
Next Thursday you arrive at Matera's on Broadway and 19Th St and take the stunningly old fashioned wrought ironed framed elevator (one of the few left in New York with an actual gentleman sitting on a stool, operating the handle that navigates the elevator up and down) to the 5Th floor, where you exit, only to be greeted at the front door with, "Hello, Mr. Boll, I'm Jonathan. Please come right in. Unfortunately Angie couldn't be here, she was called away to Mexico City for an emergency "put in" (a phrase which here means a cast change) in the Mexico City company, but I'll just be taking your measurements today, so it shouldn't take long. Can I get you something to drink?"
You politely decline and your measurements proceed without incident.
Two weeks later, you again receive a call from Angie, apologizing for her absence at your measurement session two weeks prior due to an emergency "put in" in the Mexico City company, but would you be free next week to come back in to Matera's for a fitting?
"Absolutely, name the time", you delightfully reply, enjoying the pleasant and respectful manner in which you're being treated.
"Let's say 12noon?"
"I'll be there."
At the appointed 12noon time, you again arrive at Broadway and 19Th Street, again take the graciously appointed elevator to the 5Th floor, and again are greeted at the door with "Hello Mr. Boll" - only this time a team has been assembled. The players, all of whom seem to have been eagerly awaiting your arrival, include, once again, Jonathan ("Good to see you again, Mr. Boll") as well as the aforementioned Angie ("Hi I'm Angie, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm so sorry I couldn't be here for your measurement session."), Scott ("Hi, I'm Scott, the Associate Costume Designer, it's a pleasure to meet you and welcome to the company."), various other wardrobe and production house assistants and your newest best friend and personal tailor, Arturo. ("Bon giorno. I am Arturo. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Boll.")
For the next hour and a half you are treated like a king, as assistants gently drape a newly minted tan and brown-checked linen suit ("ooh, I'm so sorry, careful of the pins...") across your body ("This is for the wedding scene, where Rosie chases you all over the set. There is a lot of gesturing and movement, so feel free to move about now and make sure nothing hampers you...") and Arturo carefully checks in with Scott about the placement of the lapels and buttons. ("I think, Scott, that the lapels might come down a half inch, no? And the buttons, the buttons can come in, yes?" In hushed tones all around, the answer comes "Oh yes, yes, very nice.") The perfectly manicured shoulder placement and arms-eye are carefully unfastened as Arturo, like a frickin artist with a canvas, gently slides a seam ripper between the layers, breaks the stitch and lowers the lapel, or opens the arm, or spreads the shoulders - anything to create the "perfect look" they so eagerly crave.
On another costume, a freshly created suit with the look of a court jester ("for the nightmare scene at the end of Act 1") of black and white diamonds and circles gives you the trim and tight figure of an Olympic swimmer you never knew you had. Tommy Tune's got nothing on you, as your height is accentuated even further by the high waist and long, elegant black lines of this ridiculously opulent suit.
"Oop...can I...sorry about this...just be care -" comes the gentle voice of the female assistant who has graciously, and carefully, reached down between your legs, right to the middle of your crotch and removed a dangerously loose straight pin.
"In case you want to have children again", she jokes.
"Two's enough", you reply, realizing the ridiculousness of the life you lead and the job you have and how lucky you are. What other job in life allows a woman to reach between your legs and pull down ANYTHING without getting a married man in trouble.
It is a common joke among people in our business that if the same rules applied to us as applies to "corporate" America with regards to sexual harassment, we'd all be out of jobs and most likely in jail. Innuendo and flirting is a big part of "the biz". It's how I met my wife years ago in Williamstown. It's how countless others have met over the years. It's not good, it's not bad, it just is. For actors, theater is a medium of emotion and feeling, and the core of that medium is sex. Sometimes the opposite sex, sometimes the same sex, but if you can't deal with sex, you're gonna have a hard time surviving this biz. It's what makes it fun. It's what makes it mysterious. It's what keeps people coming back again and again. Of course we don't corner the market on flirting in the workplace, but flirting, and the language that goes along with it, is what keeps it interesting.
As your fitting comes to an end, Angie remembers the boots. The custom made, six inch high, platform boots that you will be wearing at the end of the show. You know what she's talking about, but you feign ignorance.
"Boots? What boots?", you ask with a slight smile on your face.
"Oh, don't you worry. You'll be spending plenty of time in the boots. But I need you to go to the boot makers shop to get measured. Do you have time today?"
And suddenly you are whisked away to see Gino at T.O. Dey's up on Madison Avenue where he will carefully measure your foot and thigh in sixteen different directions in order to get the fit just right. As with the nice folks at Barbara Matera's, Gino graciously offers you a beverage - a glass of water perhaps, but you politely decline. He is quick with his work, precise and knowing, for he doesn't wish to waste your valuable time.
And as you leave T.O.'s, ready for lunch and an afternoon of commercial auditions following your exhaustive morning of fittings, you are once again reminded, as Mel Brooks so adequately stated, that yes, "It's good to be da' King!"
There's Broadway - and there's everything else.
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