Post by Francis Bonnefoy on Feb 9, 2011 0:15:07 GMT -5
There was a time when men were kind
And their voices were soft
And their words were inviting
Name: Francis Bonnefoy
Origin: Paris, France
Age: Vingt-six (26).
(Old enough to have been listening to the coolest music before it was cool and know all the best actresses before they were starlets and drug addicts. Young enough to still want to run around playing dress-up and go to an after-party every weekend, though.)
Gender: Male.
(Though this can sometimes be difficult for others to discern with just a glance at long silky hair and fluttered lashes, tailored clothes with too many accessories, and is that a man wearing that skirt?)
Position Sought: Head of the Costume Department (with forays into hair-and-makeup, when needed)
And their voices were soft
And their words were inviting
Name: Francis Bonnefoy
Origin: Paris, France
Age: Vingt-six (26).
(Old enough to have been listening to the coolest music before it was cool and know all the best actresses before they were starlets and drug addicts. Young enough to still want to run around playing dress-up and go to an after-party every weekend, though.)
Gender: Male.
(Though this can sometimes be difficult for others to discern with just a glance at long silky hair and fluttered lashes, tailored clothes with too many accessories, and is that a man wearing that skirt?)
Position Sought: Head of the Costume Department (with forays into hair-and-makeup, when needed)
Likes:
~Wearing lovely clothes, with some sort of flare or theme to them. Every outfit Francis dons is like a story all its own, telling tales of his mood and thoughts with color and lines and textures and patterns. You might find him in high boots with lace at his throat one day then wearing layers of Lolita skirts with hair done up in flowers and toting a parasol the next. You just never really know what surprises the designer has up his sleeve, but you can be assured that most of them will be pleasant and inspired, if not a little dramatic and over-the-top sometimes. But what else is the theater for, right?
~Inspiration, that lovely and tempting yet illusive mistress that Francis so passionately courts and is occasionally spurned by. His muse is fickle but exuberant, and he’s moved most of all by lines and form, movements and rhythm, voice, and touch above any other (though the stage doesn’t allow this last thing, so Francis would never be able to live as an actor). If the costumer has had his hands on you, he’ll be able to dream up a garment with structure, design, and form so perfect and fitting that it’ll have you coming back for more. ^_~
~Having nice things, and the money for it. He will go on and on about getting all the proper things he needs to run his department properly, and will throw a fit if he’s forced to work with less than what he thinks a garment deserves. Francis also knows how to make the most of a bad situation, though, having had the hands-on experience to move with the flow and “make it work”.
~Giving up control. On opening night, once the curtain goes up, things are mostly out of Francis’ hands, and any disaster that may befall is one he’ll have to watch in silent horror and wait until the scene’s end or the next act to descend upon rips or tears and try to work frantically beside his assistant Elise. Perhaps this sounds like some awful thing, but there’s nothing that the Frenchman finds more exciting than seeing himself and his work put to the test, the thrill of holding his breath to see if it will hold or break, and whether he can if it does.
~Things running smoothly. (Or anything smooth and running, perhaps.) This is a different sort of delight, the honest pleasure any artist gets from seeing their plans go off without a hitch. Good reviews, well-earned praise, and most of all when an actor or singer loves the clothes he has constructed for them is when Francis is at his most genuinely happy.
~Cross-dressing. More of a fancy than something he loves deeply, but does it for fun and pleasure, just the same. Maybe it sort of comes with the territory, but after being his own model and being a part of Montmartre nightlife for so long, Francis doesn’t really bat an eye at dressing up in slinky skirts or stocking, ladies’ blouses and wearing mascara all the time.
~Wine and cigarettes. Though he’s found it’s actually too wasteful to get drunk /every/ night, what with performances always looming on the horizon, along with early mornings and late nights, it’s just not practical. Francis isn’t above unwinding with a glass of wine while he scribbles notes into his script, though, or joining the cast at the parties most of the time. Cigarettes he enjoys much more frequently, often disappearing off-set to have a quick drag behind the lighting booth and harass one of the other crewmembers or try and step into his workspace and cool down with some precious nicotine.
[Well that's the first section... *keeps working hard*]