Tucked away behind the main stage at Chipperfield Village Hall is a magical place known only to a select few: the costume cupboard. Don’t be fooled by its unassuming appearance — behind that humble door lies a treasure trove of sequins, shoulder pads, crumpled scripts, and at least three different interpretations of Victorian fashion.
Our costume and set design team are the unsung heroes of every production. While actors rehearse lines and perfect dramatic pauses, these creative legends are knee-deep in fabric swatches, hot glue guns, and the occasional mild costume-related crisis. They are the backstage alchemists who turn garage-sale finds into Elizabethan gowns, cardboard into castle walls, and a pair of curtains into a regal cape.
The process begins long before opening night. Once the play is chosen, the design team descends into the cupboard to take stock of our vast and wonderfully chaotic inventory. There’s a certain thrill in discovering a 1970s jumpsuit you didn’t know you had, or realizing that the pirate boots from two shows ago will work *perfectly* for a Shakespearean rogue.
Planning costumes and sets is a delicate balance of creativity, budget, and ‘what can we borrow from someone’s attic?’ There have been many moments of ingenuity: a vintage tea set found at a charity shop used in a 1940s drama, or the infamous ‘toilet-roll tiara’ that somehow stole the scene in our pantomime (true story — it had glitter).
Then comes the design phase: sketches pinned to notice boards, fabric samples passed around like precious gems, and lively debates over whether that jacket is more ‘eccentric uncle’ or ‘local magician.’ The set builders begin quietly measuring things with serious faces and metric tape measures, before casually mentioning, ‘We’re going to need more plywood.’
Fittings are a production in themselves. Cast members shuffle into the hall with the same mix of excitement and dread one feels at the dentist. Will it fit? Is it flattering? Why does this corset squeak? Our costumers, ever diplomatic, reassure everyone while discreetly adjusting, stitching, and occasionally reengineering outfits on the spot.
One of our favourite set stories involves the legendary rotating bookcase from a murder mystery. Built entirely from recycled wood, paint, and determination, it looked brilliant — right up until it jammed mid-performance, trapping the actor behind it. He improvised heroically. The audience thought it was part of the plot.
The team also handles the little things you never notice until they go wrong: buttons that won’t stay on, trousers that split at the worst moment, and wigs that decide they’d rather be anywhere else. A well-timed safety pin has saved more scenes than we care to admit.
But it’s not all chaos. There’s an undeniable magic when the set is finished and the costumes come together for the first time under stage lights. It’s a transformation — not just of the space, but of the people in it. Actors stand taller. Scenes gain depth. Suddenly, it’s not Dave in a dressing gown anymore — it’s King Lear in full tragic regalia.
These moments are what make all the hard work worth it. You’ll find our wardrobe team in the wings on opening night, watching proudly (and nervously) as their creations take the stage. They’re armed with spare buttons, emergency thread, and a look that says, ‘Don’t trip on that cape, please.’
It’s worth noting that none of this would be possible without the generosity of our community. Costumes are often donated, borrowed, or adapted from donations, and local businesses have helped us with everything from paint to lighting to storage space. It’s a village effort in the truest sense.
To new or curious members: if you’ve ever wanted to learn how to sew a hem, wield a staple gun like a wizard, or glue rhinestones with the precision of a surgeon, we need you. The backstage world is full of learning, laughter, and the quiet satisfaction of making the impossible look easy.
So next time you see a breathtaking set or an elaborate costume change, give a nod to the folks behind the scenes. The costume cupboard may not be glamorous — in fact, it smells faintly of mothballs and ambition — but it’s where the magic begins.
From toilet-roll tiaras to jammed bookcases, the tales of our costume and set crew are full of charm, creativity, and just a touch of glittery chaos. They are the quiet pulse behind the performance, and without them, we’d all just be standing on an empty stage in our normal clothes — and where’s the drama in that?