A change of costume

ACT I

[Scene: Lunchtime at a busy retail shop with a sign above the door, "Raleigh Creative Costumes." Two mannequins stand on the sidewalk, one in a pale blue, pin-dot gown reminiscent of the antebellum South, the other in fuchsia harem pants and top. Inside, walls covered with merchandise: theatrical makeup, elf caps, feather boas, shepherd's staffs. Garment racks crowded with flamboyant clothes.]

[Front door opens. Two women walk in, nicely dressed, on their lunch break from work. Store employee Betty Adorno looks up from behind a counter.]

Adorno: Hello. What can we help you with today?

Customer: I'm looking for a king's crown. We're doing a king-and-queen fundraiser at the church, and I've got to dress up the king.

Adorno: We have several kinds of crowns, they're right over here. And everything in the retail part of the store is 20 percent off right now, since we're closing.

Customer [Stopping abruptly]: Closing? You're closing?

Adorno: Yeah. We lost our lease. Thirty-two years in business. We'll be closing in July.

Customer: What are we going to do?

ACT II

[Scene: A storage area of Raleigh Creative Costumes, one of several large rooms behind the retail space. Thousands of costumes hang from tiers of racks, some so high they can be reached only with a hooked pole. Hand-lettered tabs separate collections: '40s Dresses, '80s to '90s Skirts. On a high shelf, a dozen giant bunny heads seem to look around in surprise. Other shelves are lined with crates and boxes. One is marked, "Tommy Guns, Pirate Guns, Daggers and Powder Horns." Another reads, "Wands/Halos/Misc Antenna."]

[Store owner Doug Haas is giving a newspaper reporter a tour. Dressed in printed slacks and a T-shirt with a colorful scarf and striped sneakers, Haas could be a character from one of the hundreds of plays she has costumed. She wears red-orange lipstick and over-sized wire-rimmed glasses, and her gray hair flies wildly. She is almost 80 and smiles a lot. A native of Warren County, she speaks with a Southern accent, sometimes loudly enough to project across a stage. The reporter follows her, scribbling in a notebook.]

Haas [parting clothes on a rack to reveal a Colonial-era men's suit]: This is Benjamin Franklin. Over there we have armor for Roman soldiers; we do a lot of those around Easter. We have two storks -- one of them makes a lot of visits at maternity wards in hospitals. You want a turkey at Thanksgiving? You want to be Pigs in a Blanket? You've probably seen a lot of our animals in Christmas parades.

Here are our Confederate soldiers; they go out with the Southern Belles, over there. Santa Claus -- we have a lot of Santa Clauses. I take all the Santa suits to the same cleaner. He's the only one that doesn't fade the red from the suit onto the fur trim. He also does all my rabbits. They lead a hard life. But when he gets done with them, they're fluffy and white and look good as new.

[She reaches down and tweaks the nose of a bunny head still in the package.] You're a good bunny, yes you are.

I always feel like they might come alive at night.

Reporter [glancing at a box labeled "Lizard Suits"]: Where did all this come from?

Haas: Some of it's commercially made, some of it has come from pickers who buy clothes at yard sales and bring stuff to us, and a lot of it we've built. We do a lot of Halloween business -- adults dressing up for Halloween -- and we do a lot of theater. High schools, middle schools, colleges, community theater groups. I work with the directors. They come in with a script and we costume the whole show. We also work with drag queens doing shows. And the last six weeks, it's been nothing but school projects, kids dressing up to present a book report. I've just done two Eleanor Roosevelts.