I was taking my time getting ready for a grand entrance in the ball scene of My Fair Lady. The intermission had been determined to be placed just before the big reveal in order to have enough time to get all gussied up for Henry Higgins. He was supposed to fall madly in love with me in that moment, you see.
Well, as it happens in live theatre, things don’t always go as planned. The lights came up and the following scene went right along. I had to go on. I was literally half dressed and my hair looked like a rather large bird had scratched out a niche somewhere in the crown and was forming an elaborate home, indefinitely. In about fifteen seconds, the mass was ratted into some sort of ball like formation, and tied down. A glittery crown was then haphazardly placed in front of said mass, and I gingerly ran through a crowded green room back onto the stage.
I heard the Professor and his sidekick Pickering bantering on about the ways of women and their tardiness. And then I heard it, “where’s that damn girl?!” TADA! I appeared in the center section of the stage. Dress falling down, one shoe on, and the crown making its way down the front of my face like a melting ice cube. The picture of perfection itself.
Henry looked both relieved and reviled at my current state. He managed a grin, “You look” (lying) “Beautiful.” and we carefully exited together.
