becoming someone else

Last night I set my alarm for 4:45, and go to bed around ten.

That gives me exactly enough time to shower, blow dry my hair, put on some makeup, dress and be out the door by 5:15 am.

I'm working background for a new TV series.

The city is quiet. The sun hasn't risen yet. It's a nice time to wander the streets.

I decide to walk, as later it will be too hot. And it's only a couple of miles. 

Still, I'm dripping wet by the time I arrive, a little before six. We've been given a six a.m. call time.

I wait on the steps of the historic St. Bart's Church with about twenty others.

We are let inside at about 6:20. Twenty minutes. That's when we're told that the call time was changed to 7:30. The update came late and some of us never saw it.

We are not happy, having missed an extra 90 minutes of sleep

We take another COVID rapid test (in addition to the PCR test we all took yesterday). I like that the shooting environment is safe.

Next comes hair. The show takes place in the late 70's to mid 80's.

The hair person says she'll put my hair up. This will be nice, I think.

But then she starts teasing it and it becomes all pouffy on top.

I like the front pieces hanging. But to look the part (I'm playing an upscale diner in a restaurant) she pins all my hair down in the front, and leaves it bouffant-like on the top. Then she sprays my hair until it feels like spun cotton candy.

My vision of a cool look instead becomes a vision of a 90-something hag. 

The back is interesting, though I wouldn't say pretty.

The front is too severe. 

Next is wardrobe.

I see some women in some very decent clothes. 

The men are given wide ties, one a light green shirt, another a striped top with a patterned jacket. We should all be grateful for the current styles.

The dress I get has a dizzying pattern, is shapeless, frumpy, frighteningly unattractive, and 100% polyester. But... and this is important, it is comfortable, even with the pantyhose all the women are required to wear. 

I look like a very old Mrs. Doubtfire, but not as pretty.

I look in a mirror and don't recognize myself. We have to walk to our location (just a half block away). I fear running into someone I know. But if I do, I'll just deny being me.

The rest of the day is fine. We just pretend to dine in a nice restaurant (with real food that we  fake eat).

And at 3:30 we're dismissed. 

I can't wait to put on my own clothes. Wipe all the makeup off. And pull apart my hair.

It feels good to return to being me.