



straight after graduation, i was hired from my degree show to design the costumes for The New English Contemporary Ballet's Nutcracker in Nottongham....initially pretty chuffed to be able to tell everyone i was a fully fledged designer, what followed was 5 months of under-paid hell. given no contact with the artistic director and not given the budget cheque until 4 weeks before the show, i spent 3 months in nottingham slaving away in a cellar bar just to pay my rent. i made dancers cry by trying to put them in silver leotards, had to force posh girls to backcomb their hair, had to answer to parents asking why their child's skirt was "too short" and made many many many trips to primark for vests, jeans and chance meetings with students buying knicker sets for up-coming ski society nites out.
when the curtain came down on the last show in december, i cried. a) because it was over and b) because i was so fucking proud of myself.
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