Baby, it’s cold inside

This week I have been experimenting in cold-weather wear for use during concerts in cathedrals and other arctic venues. I do feel it worse than many colleagues, and get grumpy very quickly when cold, so it has become something of a special study for me. But there is also an anoraky game to be played in getting just the right combination of undergarments to stay warm while not disrupting the external look of the evening dress or costume. Which is, after all, at least as important as any sounds I am about to make.

This past weekend I sang in two very beautiful Abbeys, with strong cross-draughts and cold air drawing towards the door that traditionally won’t quite shut. The obvious starting point is a couple of pairs of tights, but this isn’t really enough, since the moment I move, the warm air that has accumulated around my ankles is lost, rather like the rush of cold water through a wetsuit that displaces all the water that has heated up. Something more substantial is required, but a slanket seems a little casual for the occasion. When there isn’t a lot of space for the performers, the soloists sometimes get to sit in the front row of the stalls and simply stand and turn on the spot to sing. This has significant advantages because no-one can see our feet, so thick socks and even boots can be worn, and all the coats we own can be spread over our knees.

As of last night, I have discovered sheep-skin insoles (don’t ask why it has taken me so long to find these beauties). I’m doing a run of performances in the Turbine Hall of the Tate Gallery at the moment, which is an inspiring and extraordinary space, but also a little on the cold side in late November. Our costume lady has lined our dainty ballet slippers with sheep fleece and suddenly we all have warm toes. I am her devoted friend for life.

Not that it’s all plain sailing, as we are in a costume that has bare arms and neck, and my hair is tidied away rather than allowed to curl around my neck like an affectionate (warming) cat. At our dress rehearsal on Sunday, which was a particularly chilly evening, the poor staff at the Tate were valiantly trying to deal with a badly-behaved automatic door at the top of the ramp, which continued to open and close all night, pumping cold air down the slope towards the singers. So last night, we came prepared: the afore-mentioned costume lady had already provided us with long-johns and thermal vests but, being singers, we all have our own private collection of these garments (sock, legwarmers, knitted shorts – I kid you not). I found that with my new sheep-feet and four layers each on my torso and legs, I was less distracted by the gooseflesh on my arms. And, best of all, my strangely cone-shaped Angel dress, which makes me look a like Davros’ nicer little sister, hid all of this, and I was able to glide about with a genuinely warm smile on my face.

A good thing that the audience couldn’t see what was worn under our dresses – it would rather have broken the spell.

Silver Swan by Clod Ensemble is on at the Tate Turbine Hall, Monday 26 Nov & Monday 3 Dec, performances at 6pm, 7pm & 8pm

Click here for tickets

 

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