The Angles/Angels of Alterations
From as far back as I can remember, I’ve always had an aversion to getting my clothes fitted. I’ve never understood why because it seems so silly; and yet, the prospect of getting undressed and then trying something on that was way too large to have it pulled in tight enough to momentarily take my breath away has always felt unbearable. I hate being poked, prodded, pummeled and pinned, the four P’s of alterations.
So, when my nephew, Rob, showed me some photos he shot of our alterations department, no surprise that the implements in use in the department made me think of a gnarly scene from Criminal Minds – with Garcia hard at work in front of her computer tracking the serial numbers on a set of carving knives in one frame while the serial killer stands sharpening those knives in the next. Yes, the alterations shop has that same geometry of sharp pointed objects. Scissors, pins, needles, stitching machines, forms that look like a corp of headless soldiers on the march. Threads in every color under the rainbow, skewered on long thin nails.
But then I ask. How could women who call Julio Iglesias their patron saint, and whose every stitch is divinely guided be sinister? And how could lovers of La Traviata, Tosca and the Three Tenors be dark? So, maybe it was just me. Maybe those threads weren’t skewered but resting peacefully on a rack, a rainbow of colors and a feast for the eye. And maybe, just maybe, I suffer from an over-active imagination? Moi? You be the judge.
Photos by Rob Sills RobSills.com
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