So, yeah. I saw this play about woman talking about clothes. Despite a great cast and intriguing premise, this Vagina Monologues-esque show came off a mostly pandering bore filled with clichés (“bras are uncomfortable,” “shopping for clothes is frustrating, especially when you’re not a size 2,” “black clothes are flattering!”) and manipulative emotions (“My love of boots has never waned — even after I was raped.“) delivered by an underrehearsed cast that seemed — on press night, at least — overly reliant on the script placed before them (SNL-alum Nora Dunn was the worst offender — it was like she was reading her lines for the first times on many occasions).
Yes there were some LOL-worthy moments mixed with a few genuinely touching stories, and the thing moves along quick enough to stave off irritation, but in the end it was just a shoulder-shrug.
But then I’m a dude, so what do I know?
However, the women sitting around me, including my mother, enjoyed the show a lot. Lots of laughter, some tears and a standing ovation. So I wrote with that in mind when covering the show for Chicago Like a Local. Read my thoughts here >
2 thoughts on “‘Love, Loss, and What I Snore’”
I’m going to have to part company with you on this one, Bob!
I saw it in New York with a cast that included Rhea Perlman and Kristin Chenoweth and I really enjoyed it. I am “far” from a clothes horse or a fashionista or anything of the sort. But I really related to the stories. Just to give you an example – at one point there’s a drawing of a Brownie uniform. Well, I had one just like it and my mother, who passed away several years ago, was my Brownie leader. And I definitely related to “the purse.”
My guess is that the work feels personal to many other women, too, evoking some of the same memories.
Hey, Esther. Yeah, I get the concept and it makes sense. But the execution of the show was lacking. The stories were so general and anonymous, it was hard to get connected to them. In the “Chicago Like a Local” writeup, I relay a story my mom had about her hand-me-down clothes. That story was more powerful than most of the stories in the show — because it was specific.