Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Look out! Mickey Mouse has gone mad!

Talked to the Diva a few minutes ago, and I think Chess was right - now that he's gotten tenure, he's infinitely more relaxed and more consistently cheerful. He will, however, make me put my nose back to the grindstone, which is a very good thing - he was already talking about me going up to see him, or him coming down here, so we can get going. I think he may be a trifle disappointed that so many of us from that year haven't wrapped up our thesis work yet, so he wants to get our asses in gear.

Spent the morning helping set up the photography for the wedding exhibition that will open next April. It's always interesting dressing mannekins - seeing the dresses turn from flat heaps of cloth and tulle and ribbon into an actual dress that an actual woman wore at some point in her life. And most of these women were tiny - corsets have something to do with that, but Pirates of the Carribean jokes aside, corsets didn't really lace so tightly that internal organs were shifted, or so women couldn't breathe properly. Now, women weren't expected to do all that much when in the corset, so you wouldn't have to pant for breath or anything like that, so it sort of becomes a moot point.

Anyway (I am the queen of digressions), it was fun helping put a 1940's era dress on the mannekin, making sure her train was swirled nicely around her, and adjusting her veil. We also had several older dresses, including a grey wedding dress with an enormous bustle that really is quite lovely (Not just the bustle, the whole dre...you know what I mean.) The experience of wheeling two mannekins down the hall on a cart is strange, though - because you don't want to hang or tug on the dress, you usually have a death-grip around the neck of the mannekin. It looks especially weird when you're wearing one of the registrarial white cotton gloves - like Mickey Mouse has decided to strangle Cinderella.

Sadly, the photography is going reallllly slowly and we might not get all the shots we want due to time. Blah.

2:07 p.m. - 2003-09-10

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