Get Ready With Me for a Broadway Opening Night
A play-by-play.
HELLO. Suffs is open! Come see our show. It is the most special thing.
Ever since I learned that a Broadway red carpet was a thing, I have wanted to walk one. But I have never been in the original cast of a Broadway show! So, our Suffs opening was my first time experiencing all the excitement and glamour and chaos of the day—not as a member of the cast, but as an Associate Choreographer on the project. And isn’t that just like life, surprising me like that?
For this week’s Costume Change, I have for you a play-by-play of my getting ready experience, complete with wardrobe malfunctions, waterproof mascara, and an appearance by former U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton.
Thursday, April 18th: Opening Day
10:09 AM: I walk out of my house with a leather backpack that’s so full it won’t snap closed (I am trying it), and a garment bag with my opening night look. I meant to leave sooner, but I had two celebratory cocktails the night before, so I didn’t exactly spring out of bed like a daisy. I’m wearing a button-down short-sleeved shirt so that later I won’t mess up my hair/makeup, which reminds me of my wedding day. I text Carly Hughes, who is meeting me at my friend Tom’s apartment to do my makeup at 11:00 AM—“11:15 would be okay!” Lol.
10:17 AM: I leave the deli across the street with a juice and a breakfast wrap. Even though I now have three bags to carry, I opt to take the train, which is actually faster than a car and offers the added benefit of a carsick-free journey! I imagine my friend Tom yelling at me to get in a vehicle. I walk to the subway, wearing my backpack front-ways to keep stuff from spilling out of the top. I feel like a “working mom” in a made-for-TV movie.
10:58 AM: I walk into the lobby of Tom’s apartment building. He lives around the corner from our theater, which makes it the perfect getting ready location! He will be at work, but he has given me the keys. Carly, a consummate professional, texts me that she’s waiting upstairs. I get on the elevator and try to text her with my hands full. “I’m coming in !” Good enough.
11:01 AM: We enter Tom’s exceptionally clean apartment. We leave our shoes at the door. We cannot figure out how to turn on an overhead lamp. I text Tom. “We’re trying to turn on the lamp over the table” “And it is making fools of us” (I am one of those people that sends texts one line at a time, sue me.)
11:05 AM: My friend Emily rings the doorbell. She and our friend Clinton are coming over, literally just to hold my hand. I need emotional support friends!
11:31 AM: Tom calls. I answer from the makeup chair (Carly brought a pop-up light; blessings on her and all her offspring). Tom asks if we’ve tried saying “Alexa, lights on.” We have not! I then try “Alexa, play music.” We are serenaded by sultry Latin vocals. I gain a fresh understanding of Tom and his partner’s “chill at home” vibes.
11:34 AM: Clinton, not realizing that Tom is a working girl now, texts both Tom and me that he is ten minutes away. Tom responds “Wait I am DEAD I didn’t know this was a PARTY this is hysterical.” I feel like I mentioned the emotional support friends to him, but now I am second guessing myself. I send a lot of **awkward face emojis** and then ask Clinton to bring me a coffee.
12:02 PM: My friend Mayte, the Choreographer of Suffs, texts me that she is on her way, but stopping to get food first. (She is also getting her makeup done by Carly.) I pull out two different curling irons that are older than time itself, and debate what to do with my hair. I am winging it, and it is raining. I realize I have chosen chaotic evil.
12:10 PM: After walking around in circles for a while, I opt to curl my whole head. [For the straight-haired queens among us, curling your already-curly hair with different-sized curling irons is how we curly girls get that Tracee Ellis Ross look.]
12:55 PM: Mayte arrives, hair already looking fab. Mid-curl, I look like the Loch Ness Monster—but in a fierce beat. Mayte eats her sandwich and tricks Clinton into steaming all our clothes. He says, “I just wanted to see your shoes!” Mayte says, “Oh, I thought you said—‘is there something I can DO!’” We open a bottle of champagne.
1:03 PM: Carly tells the group that she saw the show we (the friends now gathered at the apartment) were all in in ten years ago, Queen of the Night, TWO times. We shout with delight, and discuss for the millionth time how that show could never exist now. (Too expensive, too up-close and personal with the audience, essentially no rules whatsoever, etc.)
1:20 PM: Mayte is in the makeup chair. Clinton is steaming our clothes in the hallway. “I just wanted to see the shoes!” he cries. My hair is curled, and, honestly, looks great IF I DO SAY SO MYSELF. I curse the rain clouds that I can’t just wear it down. Emily reminds me that, with my dress, an updo is more chic anyway. I forgive.
1:21 PM: Exhausted from my curling journey. I ask someone else to pin my hair into a low-bun-thing while I paint my nails. Clinton gives it a go. Mid nail-paint, I look up and see Mayte and Emily’s faces looking at me with…concern. “Okay, NO!” I shout. I ask Carly to pin my hair instead. Clint is a very graceful friend, and I am an asshole. But also Mayte and Em have got this girl’s back! Sorry, Clint!
2:00 PM: I realize it is 2:00. We are planning to leave for the theater at 3:00 PM. For our opening night gift for the cast, Mayte and I are making a secret scavenger hunt in the theater. I force the group to help me write clues.
2:08 PM: One of our fierce press agents, Marta, texts me and tells me that the portrait set-ups are ready early, if I want to sneak in first. [Two amazing photographers have been hired to take individual shots of the cast and creative team at the theater.] I am still wearing my button down and a pair of lounge pants, holding a glass of champagne in Tom’s apartment. “Lol.” I text her. “I love you but I’m still getting ready! Chaos mode.” I have been ready early for a glammy party exactly zero times in my entire life. But I am glad that, in my workplace, I have projected the vibe of someone who has it together enough to be ready early.
2:45 PM: Carly has just finished pinning my hair up. It’s great! I feel relief. Mayte is putting on her dress. She asks for a zip.
2:55 PM: Through a series of events that are too traumatic to narrate, the zipper crumbles in my hand. There is a beat of silence. “That’s not good” says Emily.
3:01 PM: Clinton and Emily are calling dry cleaners in the area to see if anyone can fix the zipper. I have frantically texted a friend on the costume design team (Hi Azaria!), and am now calling cast members at the theater, to see if someone can run their phone down to the wardrobe department. I like to think I am using a very calm and collected voice. Our friend Ada takes on the five flights of stairs to the wardrobe department in a pair of five inch heels. Good karma will follow her for the rest of her days. Our friend Staci asks if we can gaff tape it closed. I am still not dressed.
3:08 PM: The wardrobe department says they can’t fix the zipper, but they can sew Mayte into the dress. Mayte calls a car.
3:11 PM: I lock myself out of the apartment checking to see if the door automatically locks when you close it. Everyone is running around inside, restoring the apartment back to its prior spotless state. I ring the doorbell many times.
3:11:30 PM: An eternity and/or 30 seconds pass while I am standing in the hallway. Emily lets me in.
3:14 PM: I am shoving things into my bag to go to the theater. I text Ada a picture of the zipper so the wardrobe department can see it. Mayte is wearing a capelet she got to go with her dress because it’s been vampire weather in NYC. It totally covers the open zipper in the back, which is ideal. The car is here. I decide to get dressed at the theater.
3:17 PM: We take one selfie before we run out the door. All things considered, we are being extremely calm. I have good friends, and chaos is our love language. Mayte calls the elevator while I put my shoes on in the hallway because it is a SHOES OFF HOUSE and I am not a rude houseguest. Except for the part where I invited our friends over but forgot to tell Tom.
3:23 PM: The car drops us off on the street corner closest to the theater. We *walk with intention* to the stage door. Mayte goes down to wardrobe; I hand them the sad remains of the zipper. I go back upstairs to pick up Mayte’s tickets from the box office. I run into some of the cast. I scream at how beautiful they look!
3:30 PM: I have returned to wardrobe, where they have started to sew Mayte’s zipper. I am still not dressed. We are supposed to be onstage for bows rehearsal in 15 minutes.
3:33 PM: I run up the stairs, bags in tow, and I see that it is 3:33 PM. This feels like a good omen. I ask the swings if I can change in their dressing room. More beauty screaming! My broadway debut was as a swing and an alternate, and it feels right that I am now getting ready with our own superhero swings. I tell them this.
3:35 PM: The skirt of my dress that Clinton so nicely steamed has fallen off the hanger and into a heap in the garment bag during all the running around. Hawley Gould, my light, my life, turns on the steamer. “The wrinkles are just melting out of this skirt!” they cry, two minutes later. I bestow blessings on them, and all their offspring. They tell me their offspring are cats. We bless the cats.
3:40 PM: The swings go downstairs for bows rehearsal. I am fastening my skirt to its top. I have one earring on.
3:45 PM: Our Production Stage Manager, Lisa, announces over the loudspeaker that it is time for rehearsal. I am looking for the belt to my dress, which has fallen somewhere. I decide for a silent late entrance.
3:47 PM: I find the belt.
3:48 PM: I make myself breathe for one second. A Broadway opening! And on a show I love so much! This is amazing to me. In this moment, even the chaos feels very right. I take a selfie. Then I take off my four inch heels and run down the stairs, ready as I’ll ever be.
4:35 PM: The Official Portraits
P.S. The Happy Ending!
4:42 PM: Our wardrobe team does an AMAZING JOB sewing Mayte’s dress closed with tiny little white thread. You can’t even tell. They are finished with 20 minutes to spare (Mayte’s portrait time is at 5:00 PM). Broadway wardrobe teams, man. The most talented humans on earth. And look at my gorgeous friend!
5:40 PM: I have just walked our carpet. I am feeling crazy! It is a wild experience to have that many lenses pointing at you at the same time. My husband is here, looking very cute in his blue suit, carrying a little suitcase—we are staying in a hotel for the night. The rest of the creative team is also finished with their carpet press, so we all sneak into the theater through the front doors, which are still closed to the ticket holders outside. I sneak my husband in behind me so we can stash our suitcase backstage. The theater seems weirdly empty. All of a sudden, we are passing a line of people in suits. Behind the suits is our former U.S. Secretary of State and Suffs Co-Producer, Hillary Rodham Clinton. She wishes us a happy opening. After we pass, I turn to look at my husband and laugh. “Little treat for you!” I say.
Costume Change is a weekly newsletter on all things personal style. I might have guessed on some of these timestamps, for dramatic effect. Eeek! Peep the Suffs IG account for more footage from Opening Night. Thanks for reading, and reminder to keep those comments kind!
She is a storyteller!!!!!! Writing, choreographing, performing.... what can't she do?!
This was a RIDE! Loved it. Blessings on Hawley and their cats. You have legends for friends. 🙂