A Case of the Mondays


Auditioning is like internet dating. They both begin with scrutinizing some vague profile or internet posting. Initial contact comes next, "Hello! This is who I am and I'd love come in for an audition/meet you IRL." Then, you make yourself presentable, show up, the audition/date happens and then, typically, you head home feeling some variety of disappointment. But, regardless of the disappointment, you keep trying, because when you do find your person or get your big break (or just a break) it makes it all (mostly) worth it.

However, there are days when doom and gloom sets in, and it gets challenging to see past the disappointment. That was me yesterday. I woke up CRANKY. Christian and I both have a strange cold virus, and that, coupled with my Monday to-do list, soured my mood from the get-go. I knew that I had an audition that evening, and my crankiness was the devil on my shoulder trying to convince me to cancel it. "Why go? You're not right for this part, anyway." "You feel terrible. How good can you be in this state?" "Do you really want to drive during rush hour to go read one side and come home?"


I didn't cancel. 

Here's the rundown:

THE EVENT: An audition for a new play.


  1. Round faces shouldn't wear high necklines.
  2. Midi skirts and flat ankle boots look weird. (Yes, I know, this is a strange one. At some point I convinced myself that I couldn't pull off this combination, and I've stuck by that conviction ever since.) 

THE OUTFIT: I had every intention of breaking no rules. I put on a version of my old audition standard (black slacks and a decent top) and my crankiness yelled, "GOOD ENOUGH." But as I was finishing up for my work for the day, feeling very sluggish and (still) cranky, I knew that if I wanted a chance in hell at a decent audition something needed to change. So, I changed my outfit. In my final 15 minutes at home, I pulled on a black turtleneck, a black, red, and navy color-blocked midi skirt, a skinny belt and (gasp!) my flat black ankle boots. Much to my crankiness' surprise, I loved this outfit. It wasn't wildly original, or even wildly flattering, but it made me feel like I had a point of view and that was the kick in the ass I needed to get my head in the game.

THE EXPERIENCE: The universe seemed to have my back, because as I walked into the theatre lobby, two of my friends were right inside. Sometimes, since I often work alone, seeing people I know and like feels extra special. I talked with them for awhile (auditions were behind schedule), and they both complimented the last-minute outfit. They headed home, and I waited a little bit more. Once inside the audition room, the director and the reader also complimented my skirt. I should mention- I've never received a compliment on my old standard audition outfit.

I picked up Christian on my way home, and liked the outfit enough to keep it on while cooking dinner. Usually, once I'm home, I immediately put on sweatpants and remove my boob prison.  The fact that I didn't change is a roaring endorsement for the outfit. Eventually, the sweatpants won out, I changed, and we finished the evening with an episode of Parks and Rec.

THE CONCLUSION: I should be upfront. Aside from the skirt compliments, my audition did leave me disappointed. I knew from the second I walked in the room that I wasn't what the director was looking for, and any way you slice it, that's disappointing. However, I came home in a better mood than I spent my day in, and I attribute that to changing my outfit. Changing my outfit spurred me into a better headspace, and the better headspace saved me from wallowing in doom and gloom post-audition. Auditioning usually blows, but if I've learned anything from internet dating, it's that, eventually, it all pays off.