The Meaning of Beauty

Lights, camera, PANIC!

Okay, maybe I shouldn't have been feeling the panic, but this audition meant everything to me. After what felt like a million rejections, I finally got one I felt confident about, and I planned to give it my all. I spent all morning watching movies, looking for inspiration as I prepared for my glorious debut as an audition potential. Bette Midler in Beaches is transcendent if I do say so myself. I hoped my voice would command attention like hers (minus the singing.)

The audition was set to occur in an hour, so I'd been changing my clothes over and over, trying to be memorable without being over the top. Pretty, but not trying too hard. Noticeable, but modest. Such a delicate balance to achieve.

I was over thinking, and I knew it. Even if I didn't make this audition, I planned on leaving that building knowing good and well that I did everything in my little actress heart to make my dream come true.

Eventually, I chose a long dress: a casual summer dress with spaghetti straps and a periwinkle coloring with tiny white flowers all over. The length ran to my ankles, with a light and flowy material that moved easily with a breeze. On my dark curly hair, I laid a small wreath of white flowers to give a gentle accent to my dress, but my nails were still painted black from a recent night out with the girls. I forgot to fix that part. Ugh.

After scolding myself for missing a detail, I needed to head to the theater. I wanted to be there early, or they might think I'm not taking it seriously. With my white strappy sandals slapping happily against the linoleum flooring in my apartment, I picked up my small brown handbag and tucked my phone inside, ready to begin the walk to my destination a few blocks away.

As I strolled down the sidewalk with a confidence in my step, I imagined endless scenarios as each pedestrian walked past me. The gentleman in the socks and sandals could be a spy, dressing casually in order to watch my every move. I gasped internally, looking around for a hiding place, telling my heart to react to danger when there was none. I saw, across the street, that an elderly woman in a pale yellow cardigan was walking her little Chihuahua, and I thought, "Oh, Grandma! Watch carefully, you know how Brutus likes to run!" As I approached the local cafe, I saw a couple in an argument, and I imagined myself falling into a chair between them as the mysterious psychic who knows exactly how to fix their issues with a strange, ominous prediction.

Every moment of honing my acting skills counts. I have to turn everything into a movie scene in my head, so my brain and body know they have to prepare to react in forced ways. It's my favorite thing about acting: being someone else entirely, for just a little while. You stay in your own head while getting out of your own head. I like that part.

I arrived at the theater and looked at the giant sign advertising that the auditions for the next play were taking place, my heart speeding its pace with anticipation and nerves. I checked my phone and realized I was about 23 minutes early, which was fine, because 23 is my favorite number anyway. It felt lucky. I opened the door and entered the building.

The air had a slightly stagnant but fragrant scent to it, like a mix of old books and recent parties held in the banquet rooms. The large rooms seemed to have invisible weight in the atmosphere, as if carrying the energies of every actor and actress before. I could feel the spirit of audiences clapping, smell the sweat of nervous performers, and drank in every old play advertisement and actor photos in gold frames that adorned the walls.

A man exited a nearby room, dressed in khakis and a light blue button-up top, holding a clipboard. He smiled.

"Who might you be?"

I smiled back, hoping my lip gloss was still shining on my pink lips.

"Kerry Kinsington, I'm here for the audition." I reached my hand out to shake his, and he returned the handshake with a softer grip than I expected.

"I'm Dan. It's good to meet you." He checked his clipboard. "You're my first arrival, Kerry. Once everyone gets here we'll get started."

"Okay." My voice was breathless with excitement. "Are you the one overseeing the auditions?"

"I am. I'll have Sylvia watching as well. She's the costume coordinator, but she likes to get a feel for the actors while they audition. It helps her choose the clothing." He gestured to an open door leading to a room with a stage. "Why don't you wait inside? Take a seat up front near the stage."

"Super!" I cringed at my over the top cheerful response and headed for a seat. Slowly, more people showed up, until there were at least 25 hopefuls filling the first two rows. My chances felt slimmer, but I was trying not to let that get to me. I didn't know how many roles were available.

Dan entered the room and brought the magnificent Sylvia, who was the most amazing woman I'd ever seen. She had long nails, painted in a vibrant orange, with a long flowing dress you might see on a rich widow descending a white marble staircase. The main color of her attire was orange, but swirled with blues and pinks as if imitating a sunrise over the ocean. Small specks of designs almost looked like little boats sailing far, far away. Her hair was a stark white, almost glowing in an ethereal manner, and I wondered if she might have been an actress at one point. Either way, something told me she was the one I needed to impress.

Dan handed a few scripts to a group of four and gave them their character names. I paid attention closely, as did Sylvia (I kept checking on her out of the corner of my eye.) When they finished, another group of four were sent up for the same scene. I glanced at Sylvia again to see if she was appearing to be impressed and was shocked to see her staring at me strangely. She looked as though she were seeing a ghost.

The group finished their lines, and Dan headed toward me to hand me a script when Sylvia spoke with a loud, powerful voice that reverberated through the whole theater.

"I want her to do something different. Take that script away."

My heart sank. Did I look that bad? The dress was a bad idea I bet. Or maybe she hated my flower wreath. Dan nodded and retrieved the script, looking just as confused as I felt. Sylvia stood, her billowing sleeves floating around her as she glided in a magical way to where I sat. She studied me for a moment before ordering me to get on the stage.

I hurried up the side stairs and took my place in the center of the stage, trying to conceal my nerves. I didn't know much about auditions, but this definitely felt out of the ordinary. Sylvia walked to sit in a seat nearly right in front of me, a few rows behind the other hopefuls. She took a deep breath before addressing me with words I didn't expect to hear.

"Wow me with a monologue. Improvise. I want to hear what you have to say."

Holy crap, she wanted me to make up a character on the spot?! I fidgeted nervously and focused on her beautiful fashion ensemble, and suddenly, it hit me.

I knelt on the floor of the stage and took a seat, pulling my knees to my face and dropping my forehead against them while my feet turned inward toward each other. Heaving a big sigh, I began to transition from Kerry to a woman named Crystal.

My face still in my knees, I began my monologue.

"I'm breathless, Mother. I'm torn, I'm unsure, yet somehow I understand." I lifted my head, my eyes wide with knowledge, Kerry having vanished for the time being. "You named me Crystal because you love pretty things. You thought you were making me beautiful because of a name." I lowered my knees, swinging my legs under me so I could stand and as I did, my sandals slapped the stage hard. "But you didn't create that ideal beauty with a name. Did you? The beauty I own, share, and create is never enough, is it, Mother? I share with you, and you dismiss me!" My hands flew out in a dramatic pose, my chin tilting to the sky. "I've visited this ocean every day, trying to paint the perfect gift for you, Mother. Something beautiful, because beauty is what you crave. I watched the colors of the sunset melt into sherbet ice cream, I watched the gold of our light source illuminate the sand like diamonds, I watched the ships in the distance carefully and hoped they'd move slowly enough so I could capture the essence of what they were." I reached a hand out and grasped at the air, to demonstrate that I had grasped nothing at all.

"The painting wasn't enough, no, but more importantly you chided me. Why would I add a boat to something already beautiful? The boat made it ugly. You chided my hard work, and for what? To pass judgment on an aquatic form of transportation, or me? Which one, Mother?!" My tone strengthened as my frustration with my imaginary Mother rose higher.

"Maybe that ship was special, Mother. Maybe it wasn't what it looked like in the distance. Maybe the boat was beautiful. Maybe, in its own way, the boat had features you couldn't understand as beautiful. After all, you've spent your whole life TRYING to define beauty, haven't you? The magazines, the fashion shows, the shopping, the endless scolding! And for what, Mother? To what end? What does beauty gain us? For the ship sails whether it is beautiful or not. The ship has a purpose and it fulfills it without obligation of beauty."

"Crystal." I spat the name with venom. "Here and now, I would name that ship the Crystal Voyager, because like myself, it desires to remove itself so far that you can't know the truth of its beauty. And I? I am the ship, and I will voyage too. Your obsessions hold no power over me."

I ripped the flower wreath from my head, threw it to the ground and stamped on it as hard as I could. I pushed my hands through my curls and destroyed the hair spray that held them so well, making myself a mess.

"Were I sailing on the horizon, looking like this, could you tell my beauty? Or do you simply pass judgment because you, Mother, are hopeless?"

I spun in a few circles, twirling my dress.

"I refuse to be chained to beauty definitions, Mother. Now, and forevermore."

The entire theater remained dead silent as Kerry resurfaced. I sheepishly retrieved my destroyed head piece, a little sad that I ruined it, and breathed heavily as I headed down the steps. I wasn’t sure if what I just did worked or ruined my chances and I was afraid to meet Sylvia’s wise, green eyes.

Sylvia stood and clapped. Gradually, others joined her, with Dan clapping most enthusiastically. I paused, shocked, and smiled as Sylvia beckoned me to her. She took both hands in mine and kissed them, beaming with pride at me.

“I knew when I laid eyes on you there was something special.” Her eyes glistened. “I won my first role with an improvised monologue, too. You’re so like me at a young age.”

I smiled with hesitation. She smiled back.

“Yes, you got the part."

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