My recent post about Denton as a Destination made me have a sudden urge to go to Rose Costume shop. I love to wander there and marvel at the imagination of the decorators. It’s like a vision through the Looking Glass. Around every corner is a new wonder. There is even a White Rabbit (or two).
I took a moment to visit the bathroom so I could show pictures of how they decorated it to look like Sherlock Holmes library. It was difficult to get the shots, because I couldn’t get far enough away from the walls to do them justice. And, someone was pounding on the door because they had to actually use the facility. But, here they are.
This is a bathroom?
View from the loo.
A bit crowded in there.
Doesn't look like my bathroom!
Amazing, isn’t it?
I can’t begin to imagine how many costumes are in the Rose Costume Shop. It’s the size of a warehouse. Unfortunately, I don’t get to play dress-up (they invite you to look freely, but request that you don’t try on costumes unless you plan to rent them). But, I’d love to do so. I enjoy the feel of the rich brocades of their Renaissance dresses, and I’m fascinated by the lines of the clothes from the 50s. But, I must confess I’m strangely drawn to the Bawdy Wench costumes. It would never work on me. The Creator didn’t give me the (ahem) accoutrements for such costumes. Drat.
When I was a little girl, I loved to go visit my neighbor, Ruthie Walkendorfer. Her mother was so totally cool (“groovy” was the word then). She had a huge box of dress up clothes in the closet and would let us play in them without supervision. There were ball gowns and high heels, pirate costumes, tuxedo jackets and baseball uniforms. But, my favorite was the green kimono with the dragon on it. It was a real silk kimono from Japan, and there were shoes to go with it that looked like bamboo flip flops. I always had to toss a coin with Ruthie to see who got to wear it.
Dress up was a wonderful game, because I could hide “me” behind the costumes and be someone else entirely. Perhaps that’s why I like being a professional storyteller. I don’t “dress up,” but when I am performing I am “The Storyteller.” I’m not “me” anymore. “The Storyteller” holds the key to all the mystery. She is the one who knows how the tale will end. She has the power to create a “happily ever after.”
Lucky wench.
Related posts:
