This exciting journey began at the end of the 2006–07 Metropolitan Opera season. The opportunity presented itself at the annual “Dinner on the Stage” as a fundraising initiative. First up was an art auction—very interesting, very successful—but to me the last item on the block was the chance of a lifetime. Not a painting, but the opportunity to appear on the Met stage as an extra, or “super,” during an actual performance—dressed, coiffed and shod courtesy of the Met’s incredible wardrobe department!

This particular auction offering was so popular that the auctioneer offered it up four times. On the last round, I nabbed it. The name of the opera was not announced, but the winnings included a parterre box for eight and a personal photographer to record this heart-stopping event. How much better could it get? Of course I had to wait for the 2007–08 season, a wait as endless as a child’s anticipation of Santa Claus, but, like Santa, the moment I began to think of as my “Met debut” would eventually materialize. And, in the meantime, I was free to plan, to dream… to tell everyone within earshot.

Not long after the auction, I received an “official” letter informing me I would be appearing in La Bohème. La Bohème! Talk about waiting for Santa! This was literally a Christmas present like no other. And I didn’t have to wait until December to unwrap it. Having seen the spectacular Franco Zeffirelli production numerous times, I knew instantly how it would be. Christmas Eve in 19th-century Paris… Outside a small, romantic café, townspeople strolling, wide-eyed children gaping at the toys and candy offered by eager vendors… I would be one of the townspeople, perhaps trying on a pair of gloves or a delightful hat with a feather in its brim. And—oh, yes—sharing the stage with Ramón Vargas and Angela Gheorghiu.

This is big stuff! This is huge! This deserves more than a photograph, precious though that might be. And at this point, I am not only thinking of myself, but my friends (make that fans) who will be watching me from the Parterre box. This deserves a celebration. A party! Yes!! Champagne! Flowers! Good grief. In my own mind, I have become a diva. (Autograph, anyone?)

But wait. This requires some deep thinking. Who should sit in my box and what sort of problems will the decision present for those who will be left out? I must be very careful. And canny. I decide on old friends, some from childhood, none of whom live in New York. If they come from places like Tulsa, San Luis Obispo, Hilo, surely they deserve box seats for their trouble. And there will be a party after the opera, to which my New York friends will be invited—provided they care enough to buy a ticket. (Which, thankfully, many of them did.)

The clock is ticking. Hours, days, weeks, months are passing. The new season schedule is announced. La Bohème opens in late March, and the date of my performance is April 12th. In February I receive a request to report to Wardrobe for my first fitting. I stroll through the stage door, announcing to the security guard that I have an appointment pertinent to my upcoming debut. The guard is not impressed. But he lets me in.

My fitting is not really a fitting, but a “measurement.” My head is measured, my wrists are measured, my throat, hips, bust, the length of my arms, the distance between my collar bone and my waist… I suck in my stomach, stand as tall as I can, sticking my head up like a giraffe. Does Renée Fleming have to go through all this? I ask to see the costume, but is has not yet been decided upon. I will have to wait. And try not to shrink, grow fat or any taller before April 13th.

Stay tuned for my second fitting, my rehearsal and my big night!

This entry was posted by Cherokee La Scala on Wednesday, March 26th, 2008 at 11:55 am and is filed under Guest Super Blog, 2007–08 Season. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.