Diary of an Opera Singer: You Look Like an Opera Singer
Rhoslyn Jones
People often tell me that I “look like an opera singer.” I automatically assume this means I’m a combo platter of a bearded Pavarotti, a viking with braids and horned helmet, and some kind of high maintenance diva with too much make up and narcissism. I mean, they’re not far off but I do spend good time and money intentionally getting rid of my chin hairs.
Maybe it means they think I’m totally glamorous, put together, and fancy!
No, that can’t be it. As I write this I’m sitting in a bath tub, fishing a soggy corn chip out of the bubbles because no chip will be left behind on my watch.
Maybe they think that because I so often wear long elegant gowns and jewels that I’m a classic, pre-raphaelite fashion icon goddess!
That can’t be it, either. I wore Birkenstocks with socks today and an outfit I will generously describe as athleisure, but it’s really just old sweatpants with an unfortunately placed bleach stain and a Mariah Carey t-shirt.
Just like the US weekly tabloid hails: Stars (Opera singers) — they’re just like us! We have our glamazon days when we feel fierce and limitless. We wear jewels, red lipstick, velvet, lace, a can of hairspray, and enormous hoop skirts. We command a room in foreign languages and sing unamplified with our voices that fill the largest theaters in the world.
The next day you could not pay me to put a bra on my body. If you have met me, seen me, and have at least one working eyeball, you know that for people like me, bras are essential. I don’t care how I look without a bra but it’s a potential safety hazard if I don’t wear one. Those things have a mind of their own and will knock things off tables, get caught in a door, or give someone a black eye. Or two.
On those braless days I don’t want to do my hair, or wear anything other than an oversized cheek-to-toe-mumu-tent. That’s right. Cheek to toe. I envision the perfect mumu-tent daily. It hangs from my cheekbones and drapes out and down to the floor leaving everyone guessing what’s going on underneath. I draw the drapes, make a bed-nest, a plate of cheese and crackers, and binge watch episodes of Law and Order: SVU and/or Organized Crime. Basically anything with Detective Elliot Stabler.
Usually, the people who tell me I “look like an Opera Singer,” are about to ask me one or more of a few predictable questions:
Question #1: Do you know The Phantom of the Opera?
Note to everyone: Phantom of the Opera isn’t an opera. It’s a musical. There. Now you know. I love musicals! But Phantom is not an opera. You really wanna make an opera singer squirm? Ask them if they can sing this for you right now. Don’t be fooled, we can sing the crap out of it, but most of us don’t like it and we don’t want to sing it for you on the street right at this moment. Wanna see them go postal? Ask them if they can sing Celine Dion’s hit “The Prayer” at your nephew’s Bar Mitzvah, with payment in the form of an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet and one drink ticket. (Yes that happened, and yes I did that gig). Then sit back with a bag of popcorn and watch it get awesome. The Real Housewives of New Jersey have got NOTHING on a real life opera diva fit.
Please keep in mind that the definition of diva, to me, is an enormous compliment. Divas are confident, fierce, compassionate, and bold. Divas take up space, don’t apologize for existing, and encourage baby divas nearby to unleash their own diva. Divas are not threatened or intimidated, and they cheer for people around them. Divas are leaders, mentors, performers, risk takers, and rule breakers. So yes, I wanna be a diva, and I bet you do, too.
Are we offended if you ask us if we can sing for free? Or for a souvenir mountable silver wall plate featuring your city’s skyline? (Yup, again. True story). Yes, we are. Kinda. I mean, wouldn’t you be offended if I asked you to perform an emergency C-section for three hugs and a case of diet coke? You went to school to learn how to be a doctor. You put money into it. You’ve memorized stuff. You are an expert in your field. We are, too.
I have three University and college degrees in Music and Operatic Performance. I spent eight years in post-secondary education, two years in an apprentice program, the entirety of my 20’s and 30’s, and a whole crap load of money, blood, sweat and tears into learning how to be a professional opera singer. I’m not even a special case! Most singers in my age group and at my level have done EXACTLY the same thing.
In truth, most working opera singers have at some point sung under these conditions and/or much worse. We will pretty much sing anything, anywhere, for anybody. We deserve to get paid, but we’ve all literally sung for our supper. I once sang over two hours of music for a 10 dollar Starbucks card. You know what? I like Starbucks and I enjoyed that latté. I’ve also had the privilege of being remunerated appropriately for the years of study and hard work I’ve dedicated to the craft of singing. Those gigs are wonderful. The other kinds keep me humble and make for great stories.
Question #2: Can your voice break glass?
No.
Question #3: Can you sing something for me right now?
I could, but I’m not going to. See above.
Question #4: I thought all opera singers had to be fat. Is that true?
Humans of all shapes, sizes, and skin tones can sing, emote, fall in love, go to battle, get their hearts broken, poison their enemies, and die with drama on the stage.
Question #5: It must be wonderful to do something that you love and are passionate about, right?
Yes.
Question #6: I just went to an Andrea Bocelli concert! I love him! Do you know him?
No, I don’t know him but I love that YOU love him and that he’s allowed you to experience classical music. Ever been to an opera? It’s pretty rad!
Disclaimer: I’d rather remove my own spleen with a dull butter knife than go near that concert but I don’t EVER judge these curious people. I am entitled to my own opinions about performers but I make a concerted effort to not impose any operatic snobbery on an innocent individual who is merely trying to make a musical or personal connection. There’s no harm in that and I welcome it. I dig music. All kinds and all styles and I’d love to talk to you about it all.
I also think most people are under the assumption that opera is only for the elite and wealthy and that the whole experience sounds intimidating. I’m here to tell you that some of the people who go to the opera ARE snobby, elitist, and rich. They may look down their noses at anyone not wearing a gown and furs in the box seats at the opera house.
You know what? I don’t care what those people think at all, and neither should you. Your money is as green as theirs and just like one of my favorite children’s books says, “Everyone poops.” Even snobs. They’re not special in any different way than you are and even if they’re a billionaire, they still at some point have to wipe their own bums, just like you and me. This thought brings me strange comfort.
If I’m going to the opera, you better believe I will be wearing stretchy garments and sensible shoes. There’s no way I’m going to be sitting for hours at a time in heels and spanx feeling like a piece of sausage being stuffed back in to its casing. I’m too old for the potential gas pains. Hard pass.
My advice to people who are interested in opera but who are intimidated by opera snobs? Give it a try. You’re probably old enough now to care a little less about what other people think about you, and a little more about trying something new or different. I guarantee that no opera company is going to turn you away at the door for wearing jeans and flip flops.
We want an audience. We need an audience, and chances are that the artists on stage have a comfy pair of shoes and stretchy pants in their dressing room that they can’t wait to put on.
For the most part, we’re normal people. Normal people who professionally yell for a living. Give those rich, gorgeous, fur wearing queens a wink and a smile and be comfy and fabulous wearing whatever you want while you watch one of the most amazing art forms come to life on stage in front of you.
Additionally, opera is undergoing an enormous and much needed makeover and we in opera land want the rest of the world to know about it. We’re everywhere! We’re on your tv, on movie soundtracks, on the interwebs, we’re being broadcast live on the radio and in HD in movie theaters. We’re doing outreach to communities who don’t often have access to music education, and we’re advocates and allies for those who have been previously underrepresented and ignored. We’re also heavily into the main stream social media circus, and on the cutting edge of technology and artistic creativity.
There are living, breathing composers of opera and classical music right now who are composing works that will one day be as monumental as Mozart and as vividly vibrant as Verdi. We are an integral part of a cultural landscape that aims to meet the needs of a post-pandemic, modern society.
Did I forget to mention that we do not use artificial amplification or microphones? One more time for the people in the back! No Madonna mics for us. We compete with anywhere from 40-120 orchestral musicians all while pretending to pay attention to the conductor waving their baton in front of us. I think the human voice is pretty awesome. I think opera is awesome. Does that make me a big nerd? Hell yes it does.
That’s another cool thing about the art form. We welcome the nerdy. The geniuses. The curious. The over-dramatic. The divas and divos, the shy, the unsure, the band geeks, the Trekkies, the old, the young, the goth, the hipsters, and everything in between and beyond. We wave our freak flags. We wave them hard and loud. You have to if you’re going to buy into the fact that we are singing the text of a story that would take twenty minutes to read, but 3 hours to sing.
We love to languish and bask in the unlimited potential of our imagination. How else could we rationalize the fact that some characters play a magical instrument that safely guides them through water and fire on a quest for love and a membership to an exclusive Men’s Club. (True plot of Mozart’s Magic Flute) Ever been to a production of Wagner’s Ring Cycle? It makes a Star Trek Convention look like cheerleading camp.
All of this to say that I am completely in love with what I do. There are certainly days that I don’t and that’s when it’s most important to remind myself of how much I just love music. This knowledge and faith is what remains after being rejected, ignored, or mistreated. It’s what I think about when I need to refuel my tank for the long journey ahead that will need my work ethic, dedication, and perseverance. It’s this small thing that turns out isn’t so small. It reminds me that the things that I thought would hold me back are actually the things that will help me unleash my full, unbridled potential.
So watch out, everyone. Opera is cool and you should give it a try. Seek it out in your community and take a friend. I’ll even be that friend and go with you if you want! Just as soon as I put on my cheek to toe stretchy mumu, and when this episode of anything with Elliot Stabler is over, and right after I get out this Tostito bubble bath.
Originally published on Ms. In The Biz on May 13, 2013. Revised and republished on Substack on January 16, 2023.
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I love this post so much! It’s amazing to be able to get a peek into the opera world through your incredible writing. 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽
I adore the opera. I study literature, and I'm specifically interested in its intersection with opera. I notice that you haven't posted on Substack in a while. Do you intend on coming back? I would love to read more from you.