About a month ago I headed home to New York City to attend a performance of JOE BEAN. This was the very first show that I have cast on my own, and this made me super nervous and excited. In Seattle a few weeks before, a new Betsey Johnson dress somehow made its way into my luggage and became the outfit of choice for the big day. However, I overlooked the sweat/stench factor of wearing a three quarter sleeved polyester blend dress all day long in the Big Apple.
Upon leaving the house in Queens and arriving at the Zipper Theatre I smelled good. I swear. Like, really good...a mixture of deodorant and Marc Jacob's DAISY. But by the time the show had reached the halfway point, my flower had wilted and been flung into a pile of manure. The smell was bad. B-A-D.
At first I try to play it cool, akwardly hugging people I havent seen in months with my arms down, feigning being cold to keep my arms crossed, and basically just looking unfriendly and uncomfortable. The at the reception I snuck into the bathroom, took the dress off and stood in my slip while wetting and soaping my armpits. Problem solved. Mini shower effective.
Or so I thought.
Then after dinner and few more rides on the subway I noticed people steering clear of the girl in the super cool dress. Homeless people and MTA workers could smell me coming from the opposite platform. I had reached a new low. What was I supposed to do??? Running late for a friends birthday party I decided to forge on through and just hope no one noticed. Or hope that people would be forgiving.
Upon reaching the birthday party and hanging out with some old friends, I began to recount my tale of woe and my good friend Mark was like, "I am sure you dont smell that bad."
He took me up on my offer to take a whiff for himself and I am sure that is a decision he will regret for a long time. Nothing like smelling a pretty girls smelly, smelly armpit after a day in Manhattan. Being the good friend that he is, and wanting to spare his girlfriend the agony of my scent any longer...we got the men's deodorant out of his backpack and I snuck into the bathroom at O'Hurley's. Finding myself in mid-town, in my slip, in a single stall bathroom once again I figured that more must be done if I were going to make it through the evening.
So after applying Mark's Right Guard to the initial culprits, my armpits...I realized that the smell was not budging and I put my little miss piggy against my dress. And then I passed out. Not really, but I did jump back in shock and land on the toilet seat. MY DRESS SMELLED LIKE BOOT CAMP BODY ODOR GONE TERRIBLY WRONG. My dress smelled as awful as it was beautiful. And I had nothing else to wear. Then I did the only thing I could think of. I started spreading Mark's deodorant all over the under arms of my dress, the inside and outside.
I headed back out into the bar and made small talk with John Lloyd Young praying that at the very least I smelled like organic deodorant covered by perfume, soap, a perfume sample from Sephora, and Right Guard. A lot of Right Guard. Feeling more confident than I had all day I gave Mark a huge hug, with my arms all the way up and around his neck.
