Tour Whore, June 24, 2012

The Feeling Skin

by Cameryn Moore

You know how you grab your seat in a Fringe venue, and they have the air conditioning on so high that you have to put on a jacket, or you would if you were still carrying a jacket, but you aren’t, so you just sit there and freeze your butt off the whole time? In such a situation, you almost have to dedicate a whole paragraph in the review, right, or in the online comments or handwritten beer-tent buzz sheet to how distressing that is, and how it totally interfered with your ability to enjoy the show. Don’t you hate that?

Or you know, you’re standing outside in a line-up, the sun is beating off of the concrete surroundings, at least you have water and the door will be opening soon, but good god, it’s hot. And when you finally file into that air-conditioned space, ugh, it hits your sweaty skin and then all you can talk about with your neighbor until the lights come up on the show is how much you hate the chilly air. It feels good for a few minutes, but then you’re too cold, and can’t someone do something about that anyway? You know what I’m talking about? Yeah?

Shut up. Just shut up. I’m not going to feel cool again until September.

I think I can say—without losing my trademark modesty, BWHAHAHAHAHA—that I get around.

It’s not just that I’ve got Montreal and Winnipeg in the heart of summer (Montréal has the sticky sidewalks, Winnipeg has the mosquitoes). It’s everything, everything on top of that.

This outfit that I have on, the tutu? I wear it only every so often, just to be cute. Except it’s not a tutu, it’s a skirt layered over a square-dance petticoat hiked up under a long-line bra and a lacy tank-top, with my panties, a garter belt, and some ruffle-butt bloomers underneath it all. Of those seven layers, five are synthetic fabrics. AND IT’S FUCKING HOT, but I still have to wear it today, because it’s the only day at the beginning of the Fringe that I don’t have a show, and I know people love seeing it, or at least they look, which is the whole point. So I’m chatting and flirting with you and smiling, smiling, smiling, but most of my skin is actively trying to escape contact with my clothing right now, and that’s a pretty uncomfortable feeling. I hide it well. I’m an actor.

And you know how you say you see me everywhere? That’s not actually physically possible, but I think I can say—without losing my trademark modesty, BWHAHAHAHAHA—that I get around. I walk around, rather. A lot. I never run, but sometimes I walk fast, because I don’t want to miss the line-ups. In some festivals I end up doing laps around the Fringe campus for up to 6 or 7 hours a day. 

On the days that I have shows, I come out of them in full stage makeup. Can I tell you something? I didn’t learn to put on foundation properly until the age of 39, a month or two before my first solo show opened in Boston. I never wore it before then, so I haven’t really had a chance to get used to it in normal conditions. But OH BOY do I know what it feels like in 36-degree heat. Doesn’t mean I like it, just means that I’m used to feeling trapped in a plastic bag for hours on end.

I’m EMOTING, y’all, and that is physical fucking labor.

The stage lights, you know those aren’t just lights, right? They are instruments of heat-based torture. I know they heat up the joint for you, too, but you’re just sitting there. I’m EMOTING, y’all, and that is physical fucking labor.

In fact, Fringe touring is full of situations that just serve to underscore how little control I actually have over my climate. Those late-night dance parties add a film of sweat that never seems to come off with just one shower. In my billets, I rarely get AC. Sometimes a fan. Sometimes just an open window. (Gah!) If an admin is lucky enough or high up enough that they have AC, I will end up there only for a couple of minutes; if they don’t have AC, guaranteed that my business will take a half-hour to conclude.

Of course I have stratagems for dealing with it: a folding fan and a water bottle attached to the purse at all times. Two bandannas for mopping up the face. My parasol for outdoor shade. Find the tree shade for cooler temps. Drink some water every 15-20 minutes. Fewer clothes (when being a slut comes in handy!). Roll a cooler of watermelons down to the beer tent, and eat half of one myself. Get a water fight going, if all else fails. I’m going to the dollar store today for some costume bling (with a circus carnivale theme for this Friday’s Fringe party, I am really missing the costume shit I gave away two months ago), and you better believe that I’ll be looking for squirt guns, a mister, and maybe a battery-powered mini-fan.

But at the end of the day, nothing can quite address the issue: my tour season follows the summer. And I’m sorry for the rant, but cranky pants chafe during a heat wave.

Cameryn Moore will be at the Montreal Fringe June 15-23, at Zoofest and at the Winnipeg Fringe July 19-29

camerynmoore.com