Last night at the Kennedy Center for the Washington National Opera's Rigoletto (oh, I did say this would not be about mainstream arts, didn't I? Well, read on...), I noticed that people do not dress for opera anymore. And when I say "do not dress," I mean, anything goes. Sneakers and skirts -- yes, this is the Washington woman's work uniform -- jeans and tees. Not that I lament the "good old days" where Dior and dinner jackets were de rigueur, but it is nice to see afficionados make an effort.
It reminded me of my first exposure to opera as a kid growing up in Cincinnati. Women strutting in long gowns and peacocks spreading their splendid green and purple tails. Awwk! yes, peacocks! The Cincinnati Zoo Opera was absolutely a one-of-its-kind phenomenon, where the likes of Beverly Sills's coloratura soprano could be punctuated by the unscripted contrapuntal basso profundo trumpeting from The Elephant House. The Zoo's Pavilion fronted the aptly titled (and accurately labeled) Swan Lake. I vaguely recall long giraffe necks peering over at the singers to see what all the squawking was about. The stars of the Met absolutely clamored to play the house for the primates on Monkey Island!
Anyway, it occurred to me, watching Rigoletto, that this was exactly the kind of production that would be punched up by some monkey business. The supernumeraries in the crowd scenes actually seemed herded here and there. While Rigoletto sang his impassioned Act 2 aria about the townspeople abducting his beloved, innocent daughter, the sumptuously clad extras were clumped stage right, staring offstage. We the audience, in our sweats and hoodies, were not impressed.
This would not have happened at the Zoo Opera. As Time Magazine noted in a 1942 review: " Occasionally a lion roared; silver-haired Tenor Giovanni Martinelli roared louder.... Cincinnati's Zoo offers the only summer season of first-rate opera in the U.S. As first presented 20 years ago, scraps of opera vied with an ice show, merry-go-round, two dance floors. Gradually full-length opera muscled in. The inevitable deficits were met by the inevitable angels, Mrs. Charles Phelps Taft, wife of the half brother of William Howard Taft, and Mrs. Mary Emery, whose father-in-law made one of Cincinnati's first big real-estate fortunes. In 1934 the musicians themselves took over."
Of course, the beauty of the Zoo Op was its completely democratic appeal. Still, back in the day, even plumbers and gardeners dressed in dark suits replete with white hankies. If the likes of a former first family, the Tafts, could pull on girdles and stockings to dress in regal finery during Cincy's sweltering summers to mix with Metropolitan Opera stars and the King of the Jungle, shouldn't Washington's A-list, attending no less a landmark than the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, step out of their day-to-day skins as combatant elephants and donkeys? C'mon, D.C. -- show off your peacock walk. AWWK!
1 comment:
Oh my! Are we just all becoming grumpy and old? I know I'm a little younger than ROB but even the whole dressing for the occasion thing gets to me the same way. And it's not just the opera or theatre. Gone are the days when you put your Sunday best on to fly. I still tend to where a shirt and trousers even for the overnight long haul flights which I take frequently.
I was even at a memorial service this weekend and was shocked to see someone in jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. Not so bad if that was what was requested by the deceased, but please, there should be some level of dignity here. (If anyone wishes to attend my funeral in jeans please ensure they are black Levi 501's worn with a black shirt and jacket - no tie required!)
People may say "that's because back then there was more of a class system", but as ROB points out even the blue collar workers got dressed up for the Opera at the zoo. "I want to be comfortable", "they're designer jeans", "it's only the opera", "like the performers care what I'm wearing, as long as they get paid" - all poor excuses. Let's just be honest, people don't want to make the effort anymore.
Stop. Think. Dress.
So what does determine what one should wear for what occasion? Do we have to dig out the books on etiquette? Or is that out of fashion too?
Though I will admit I was once guilty of not being dressed for the occasion, but not happy about it either. It's a long story, but I had to stand at the back for my brother's wedding photos in jeans and an old jumper!
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