Dress Up Show

Last night we ventured to Queens to attend the final performance of Michael Helland's The Dress Up Show at [The Chocolate Factory] in Long Island City. It was the first of those balmy days that reminds you of what heat feels like in the concrete forest, and the Chocolate Factory, a warehouse space used by many a performing artist, was a welcome respite from the heat as Helland, dressed in white tights and taffeta, high heels -- like some sort of Abba soldier -- led us to the basement where women chose our wardrobe. Myself and my two friends went behind a curtain to begin changing into our bright crinoline skirts, leggings and scarves. We put our street clothes in a bag and then made our way past the makeup table to have our "glamor shots" made before walking upstairs, past the rest of the crowd waiting for their transformation.

The performance's most resonant moments occurred while we sat in folding chairs, were offered punch and watched as the others made their entrance to face us -- like a ramshackle Paris Opera House with bizarre attendees: men in sequin gowns, parents in leather masks, women in capes and hats. As we waited, three female dancers pranced around the space, as if they were warming up and we were participating in some sort of rehearsal. Once we were all seated, Michael took the stage, undressed down to his undies to the sound of the "[Reading Rainbow](pbskids.org/readingrainbow/)" theme song, put on sneakers and a sweater (a la Mr. Rogers) and read a "story" which was a jumble of words and quasi-poetic phrases. He then took two dimmers in his hands and enacted a music video-esque sequence in front of colored lamps before writhing in a large swath of lavender taffeta (or was that tulle?), ripping off his clothes until he was eventually naked.  Yeah, the room was hot; we were all dressed in layers and as he divested himself of his clothing and lay on the cool concrete floor, and there was a palpable feeling of longing for the same.

Four other female dancers later spoke and performed, but by the end, when we were invited to more punch and to participate in a "dance party," it was those early moments of involving us in the performance by dressing us up that still resonated. Overall, Michael Helland's The Dress Up Show was a disjointed exploration of the senses by a young artist that felt a bit empty at moments. But we left feeling as if we had participated in something secret and special. The final act was a silent auction where we could bid on most of the clothing we or others were wearing. A friend snagged a black riding hat with pink feather and black netting. I still have my eyes set on that red crinoline skirt.