Diary of an Opera Singer: Bibbity, bobbity…
Rhoslyn Jones
Photo by Helenna Santos
November 21, 2022
“Here, take my bra.” Sitting in the passenger seat I turned to my Mom, awestruck. She had one hand under her shirt contorting her body violently, while the other stayed firmly fixed on the wheel seamlessly speeding in and out of freeway traffic. Suddenly, her beige bra was coming out of her sleeve and she flung it on my lap. We had just finished a volleyball game and Mom was driving me and two friends to make it in time to perform in our band concert.
I was wearing a sweat soaked black sports bra and was trying to change into my super stylish white pleated collared shirt with blue cummerbund and bow tie. Please try not to be intimidated by my coolness. I had just thrown a fit when I realized that my sweaty black bra would be visible through my thin band shirt and I had forgotten to pack a suitable replacement. No greater embarrassment could be imagined in 1996. Enter my Fairy Godmother of a Mama. Her arm was her magic wand and with a flick of her wrist she turned my pumpkins into, well…slightly less visible pumpkins.
Ten years later I was in New York City at some hell hole audition space where dreams go to die. I was sitting with my former manager who was lecturing me and another soprano about the importance of, “flattering dresses, closed-toed shoes, and WAY more cleavage.” As a teenager I had done everything to conceal and minimize my…let’s call them pumpkins…and now this dude was encouraging us to put the entire pumpkin patch on display in order to get a job.
More on men in power coming soon. Emphasis on moron. Back in the land of mansplaining and manipulation, the lovely soprano I was with suddenly began to look panicked. I can’t remember if one of her essential closed-toed shoes had broken or if she had lost one along the way but Cinderella did not have “correct” footwear. I leaned over to her and whispered, “Here, take my shoes.”
Despite the efforts of evil queens and wicked stepmothers (we call them the opera mafia), the shoe must go on. I got to step in to the supporting role of Fairy Rozmother that day and I’ve been playing that role in different ways ever since. Besides, I learned from the best: My dear Mama, Fairy Godmother to all. If you ever need us, all you have to say are the three magic words: Bibbity, Bobbity, Boob.