
I reparked the car closer and walked over to the strange building's front with the understated door on it's right side. Entering it was even more perplexing. I was now in a small darkened vestibule with three doors -then took a guess at opening one of them. It opened onto a wide expanse of a Krell-like arrangement of clothing racks. Period clothing... from the 1920's.
It wasn't long before an attractive young woman (with a tiny twinkly diamond-like something stuck to her nostril flap) asked me to follow her into a neatly curtained fitting area, where her coleague would size me up with her measuring tape. For the next hour I was trying on various combinations of her choices of wool pants, shirt, tie, vest sweater, shoes and a fedora hat. All of which was to be reviewed by the "supervisor-fitter lady" -who wasn't satisfied with the results at all. In fact she just about took over and began a fitting process that took me from a shabby looking lowlife "dandy" to that of a better dressed middle-class worker wearing a hamburg. I liked her style -she knew how to dress a man up!
Walking around the area in my 1920's wardrobe got a few smiles from the locals (which I took in with great satisfaction). I needed that feeling because it's been a rather dry few months since my last gig -and in between that period I got laid off from my four-year old real-life job. And so I realized just how much I love being an extra exactly for this reason.
