Design for Living

In all fairness, Design for Living is the name of a 1932 Noel Coward play about a "three-way" relationship between artists: one woman and two men, not the name of my new musical. (Btw, you must see the film version with a young Gary Cooper, wearing oh-so much make-up and shellacked back hair.)

Until a few months ago, I had blatantly stolen the title for my play about a high fashion boutique all the while thinking I was very clever and original. My play (now called something else) is the fruit of an undercover foray, if you will, in the snobby haute couture and pret-à-porter boutiques of Paris' fashionable avenues. I promise you that of all the workplaces I have ever set foot, nothing could be sillier.

To begin with, I started the lowly task of fondling rich people's money in 2008, the year of "La Crise" (sounds like a new animal in the Chinese zodiac), which meant that the little motivation that exists for working in such thankless places as fashion boutiques (read: commission) was nothing but a recent memory. Still, I was hoping for at least some luscious tidbits of outrageous behavior to feed my imagination whilst I tried to keep the proverbial wolf away from the door. (That was short-lived. The wolf and I are now friends, commiserate about this horrid "flat" world and rampant unemployment, worthless university degrees, etc).

Tidbits were found, outrageous behavior more than witnessed and even more gossip garnered from ever-so willing colleagues such as Gonzague, in the first boutique, and Alfredo (who's name was so excessively long I think he got his jollies saying it) in the second boutique.

The situation in the first boutique was such that the tension was nigh the moment the 'evil one' stepped onto the scene, sort of Devil wears Prada-ish, but being much more amusing and actually human, unlike what's-her-name who edits American Vogue and who is actually some kind of strange genetic experiment planned by MI-5. Sort of a female Voldemort.

Anyhow, the villain in my play is much more fun because she is based on someone who I know and who actually likes me, but I'm not sure why, which puts me in a terribly uncomfortable position. I think she likes me because I come from a wealthy Chilean family. I'm sure it's for none of my own merit.

The second situation was perhaps even more amusing if less tense because it was summertime and therefore very crowded with the entire Arabian peninsula, aggressive, badly dressed Russians and a few Chinese counterfeiters with bad breath. It was very colorful to say the least. And we were meant to keep a straight face while serving all these people and wearing doo-doo brown. Suffice to say, comedies and musicals were the first thing that came to mind.

Unfortunately, I will have to stop here because I don't want to give it ALL away. Anyway, Wolfie's calling me...