Jessica's Blog

 

People in San Francisco like to dress up. Whether it be for theme parties, street fairs, Halloween, Dia de los Muertos, Pride, or, of course, Burning Man (a.k.a. the Playa).

 

San Francisco seems to jump at any excuse to throw off daily wear in favor of something more theatrical. That explains why around 2500 people showed up for the recent San Francisco Opera Costume Shop Sale. Steven Raspa, a community events organizer for Burning Man, was one of them. He had this to say about the event:

 

“I’m always a little sad to see all these amazing works of art leave the opera, but they show up in the most marvelous places in San Francisco all year long, and this is something that really fuels creative play and dress in this city. And I just love it,” says Raspa. “People love it so much that some folks even camped out the night before, just to make sure they could get in.”

 

This was only the fifth time in its 92-year history that the San Francisco Opera opened its costume closet to the public. The two-day event was a chance for the company to sell costumes that they no longer need and to raise money for future productions.

http://www.graziadress.com/homecoming-dresses-2013-2014

 

The good news is that more than 125,000 extraordinary outfits just entered the creative bloodstream of San Francisco and the Bay Area at large. The bad news is that, for those who missed it this time around, the sale probably won’t happen again for at least five years, maybe longer.

 

I heard about the sale from some of my Burning Man friends. Around noon on the first day of the sale, people started posting photos: One friend in a Marie Antoinette dress (wig, included), another in a gold lame Russian monk’s robe with matching gold hat. Clearly this is a sale not to be missed.

 

By the time I get there, the line outside the San Francisco Opera Warehouse in Dogpatch is four hours long. I think about hopping back in my car and catching up with friends post-brunch. But then I meet a man emerging from the bowels of what looks like an airplane hanger wearing a turban and I decide not to give up so easily. The man’s name is Joseph Turian, and we speak for a while.

 

“When I was inside,” Turian says, “I saw this one piece and I was like ‘I don’t know if that’s going to fit me.’ And this fellow, he came up and started helping me. And he’s like, ‘No, it’s gonna fit you.’ So it turns out his name is Christopher and he’s the head of wardrobe or costuming. And he was telling me that I got the last Bob Mackie piece.”

 

Bob Mackie, sometimes called “the sultan of sequins,” designed Cher’s most outrageous outfits. And many for Liza, Bette Midler, Diana Ross and a long list of divas. Basically, if it was sequined and worn by a star in the 1980’s, chances are good that it was designed by Mackie. Mackie also designed costumes for the opera, like that gold and black velvet beaded dress that Joseph Turian snagged.

 

A lady asks Turian, “were you the one in the beaded gown?”

 

Joseph responds, “Yeah, that was me. And he was giving me tips. Never dry clean it. Only spot clean it.”

 

With excellent advice like this, it sounds to me like this Christopher person knows a thing or two. I decide that I need to find him because he just may be my ticket in.

 

In the meantime, I find myself waiting just outside in the loading zone. As I wait, I watch people emerge in one ornate outfit after another, practically taunting me. I need to get in there. And just then, a man approaches me. There’s no puff of smoke, but he makes a dramatic entrance nevertheless, with his secret-service-style earpiece and his no-nonsense, by-the-rules attitude. This man is Christopher Verdosi, the assistant costume director for the San Francisco Opera.

 

I’m in!

 

Verdosi is straight out of central casting. He’s like my opera-sale fairy godmother. He’s wise and sassy—and he moves pretty fast, too. He grabs me by the hand and leads me through a crush of costumed shoppers, narrating along the way.

 

“Let’s go down this aisle and see what everybody is wearing,” Verdosi suggests. “This is my favorite part… walking across the room and walking past a 19th-century maid, a gladiator, a vulton, and a crazy, dirty monk,” he explains.

 

We enter a roped-off area where the more expensive costumes are located. From here, I can survey the scene. The room is massive. There are nearly 1000 people buzzing around, trying things on, trying to catch a glimpse in one of the few mirrors in the room, and, of course, riffling through nearly a hundred racks of clothing of every color, period and fabric. You name it--furs, laces, feathers, brocades, beads, velvets--it’s all here.

 

“We started this morning with over 125,000 costumes,” Verdosi tells me, “I'd say we're probably down to about 75,000 now.”

 

These costumes were originally made for operas and productions that the company knows they will not repeat. For the lucky people in the room, it’s a rare chance to own pieces that were once worn by opera royalty and created and constructed by master costumers, as well as a few famous fashion designers. And for Verdosi, it’s a chance to share his encyclopedic knowledge of the costumes and productions, as well as his passion and reverence for the art form.

 

Verdosi says he thinks “that costumes are infused with energy from the artist that wears it, from the artist that builds it. And it's more sad for costumes like this to sit on a rack unused for 20 years than to release them to people that will love them, cherish them and—because we're so lucky to live in San Francisco—wear them.”

 

To wear them, that’s exactly why I’m here. But just how much does one invest in a fur-lined cape or suit of armour?

 

“Everything runs from $1 up to $750,” Verdosi says. “Some special pieces are here. Somebody asked me ‘Why is this dirty coat and pants $500?’ Because that is from the legendary Christian LaCroix for the “I Capuleti ei Montecchi.”

 

That particular opera was a retelling of Romeo and Juliet. And if the name of the designer is familiar, you probably heard it on the 90’s British sitcom “Ab Fab”.

 

As we continue on, we move to a rack of renaissance-era dresses that were designed for the opera “Die Meistersinger.”

 

A woman tells Verdosi she’s looking for a Dickensian dress to wear to the Dickens Fair.

 

Verdosi tells her “you know, since things are separated by price, on one rack you can be looking at 18th century, medieval, biblical, Renaissance, in my opinion, it's the hunt that's part of the fun.”

 

“Yes, definitely,” the woman responds, “we found things we didn't even realize we were looking for. It's awesome.”

 

Verdosi asks a different shopper, “What'd you get?”

 

The man responds, “Oh my God. We got everything. We got hats and capes and jackets. Just a lot of Playa wear. I think my best find is this,” holding up a piece of costume.

 

“Wow,” says Verdosi, “All of this beautiful trim down the front is vintage Bavarian metal lace… this is such a find, it is from our Czar's Bride. This was a co-production and this is actually a vintage robe that was created at La Scala in Milan. The absolute best opera company in the world.”

 

“So I should not wear this to the Playa?” the man inquires.

 

“This is one you should not wear on the Playa,” Verdosi advises.

 

And then it happens.

 

“Oh my god,” Verdosi gasps as he sorts through some items, “I think I've found your piece; with your coloring. Gorgeous, right? And this gorgeous jacket is selling for.. $25.”

 

“What's it made out of?” I ask.

 

“Wool,” he says.

 

I'm allergic, but I may have to deal with it.

 

“Oh God!” Verdosi continues, “it looks so good in the back. It has this little butt peplum. I mean this little peplum.” He laughs.

 

While I love that the orange and burgundy jacket covers my tush, I can feel my skin heating up. My wool allergy is kicking in. It’s hard to say no to this hand-selected bargain, but with dozens of racks to look through and an hour till they close, I have to pass on it.

 

By the time I was finish shopping I end up buying a mustard colored tunic, a high-collared, peach colored Elizabethan shirt, plus a three-piece Elizabethan page outfit with a hot-pink, gold-trimmed jacket, puffy breeches and matching red velvet cape.

 

Some shoppers will wear their costumes to role-playing events like the Ren Faire or a steampunk ball. Others will cart them out to the desert for Burning Man. Later the evening of the sale, I wore my new breeches as sculptural sash to a house party. For me, it’s less about inhabiting a role or playing a part; it’s a chance to incorporate these exquisitely crafted pieces into my daily wardrobe and articulate a heightened, more fabulous version of myself.

 

The Opera raised more than $300,000 during the two-day sale and all of that money will go back into future productions. They don’t know when the next sale will be. But, no doubt, we’ll be seeing the costumes from this event for months and years to come.

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