For Proust, food might have triggered memories, but most women associate articles of clothing with significant events. A wedding gown, a deceased mother's dress and favorite shoes might conjure up relationships or memorable conversations.
In Love, Loss and What I Wore, an adaptation of Ilene Beckerman's book, Nora and Delia Ephron mine that concept, using clothing to tell a series of stories.
Designed in the style of Eve Ensler's Vagina Monologues, Love, Loss rotates five female cast members every few weeks, bringing change and, undoubtedly, freshness. The women sit on stools with their scripts in front of them.
The night I attended the show at the intimate Westside Theater, Carol Kane performed as the Beckerman character, presenting her life story through a series of simple drawings of dresses. Each picture generated a story about a character or episode in her life.
The other four actresses, Katie Finneran, Lucy DeVito, Capathia Jenkins and Natasha Lyonne, acted out the other roles. Sometimes they told touching stories (a dead mother's robe, a gay marriage, a favorite shirt that disappeared when the relationship broke up.) Other times the performers merely delivered one-liners on universal topics - mothers (bras, black). (The dressing room: Does this fit? What's wrong with the lighting? Does this come in a smaller size?)
The show resonates when the topic is familiar. So the laughter and recognition are individual, depending upon whether the woman identifies with the line or the situation.
My favorite segment is a lengthy one, which Jenkins performs, about the unruliness of her pocketbook. The essay was taken from Ephron's book, "I Feel Bad About My Neck." Having struggled for years with my own handbag jungle, I identified with it and laughed hysterically.
That's the attraction of the show: Identification. Some of the best moments are the natural, unscripted ones. At one point during the performance, Finneran jumped ahead of the script and turned to DeVito to ask if she missed a line. There was a wonderful sense of camaraderie coming from the women onstage who seemed to enjoy listening to one another. Their laughter, even at lines they'd already heard several times, became contagious.
The script seems uneven, but that's because several lines don't evoke memories for everyone. Yet when a line rings true, it's great. I'm not sure if the scattered men in the audience could possibly have "gotten it" - the poignancy or humor of much of the show. Even living with a woman doesn't literally (or figuratively) put a man in her shoes. And that's what this show is about: shoes, dresses, boots and underwear.
The show is a great women's night out. As we welcome in the new year, Nora and Delia Ephron remind us to remember the past. Sometimes, we can do that merely by looking through our closets.
