Melondy Phillips
Staff Writer
Have you ever noticed how something simple can open doors you never knew were there?
In many of my articles, I have referred to my years working as a 1700s Living History Interpreter and briefly touched on how it “opened doors” to more career opportunities.
The Virginia’s Explore Park, where I spent many happy years volunteering at the 1700s fort, closed its doors in 2007. Later that year, I received a call from a friend who was working as a security guard there. He informed me that a film crew was coming into the park and planned to make a movie based in the 1700s. He suggested I apply to be an extra. I thought, “Cool! Why not?” So, I packed up my outfit and oldest child, who also had an outfit, and drove down to apply.
At the audition, we were herded into a room where we waited to be called. While waiting, I observed only one other person in a historical outfit, but it was more modern, maybe from the 1850s. The production team periodically called back five or six people at a time to the interview room. As we entered the small room, they had us all line up against the wall in front of a camera. Behind the camera was a fold-out table with some chairs and two other people who were not speaking to the applicants. The person asking all the questions, who I believe was the casting agent, had the cameraman take shots of each of us while she asked us to tell them a little about ourselves. I was near the end of the line with my son. When they got to us, she had the cameraman get close ups of my son and me, specifically our outfits, from head to toe. I gave a brief description about myself, which included a list of some of my skills. When I mentioned sewing as a skill, the quiet man sitting in the shadows at the table spoke up. He asked me if I had any samples of my sewing. I told him that I had made everything my son and I were wearing. They quickly finished with the last person who was beside me and waved their hands to dismiss us. Before I walked out the door, they stopped me and pulled me aside. I was introduced to the director; the one who had asked me about samples. He kept me there for a while asking about time period clothing and what I had done and could do and then asked if I’d be interested in the wardrobe department.
Through a beaming smile and wide eyes, I said “sure!” I was on cloud-nine all the way home thinking, I’ll never hear from these people again but that was really cool!
Two weeks later, the phone rang.
I picked it up and said, “Hello?”
From the other end, I hear, “Is this Melondy?”
“Yes, may I help you?”
Now to paraphrase the rest of the conversation, “this is [person from production company]. I was told you are an expert seamstress. We pay [dollars per week] plus a kit rental if you bring your own sewing machine. Can you start tomorrow?”
“Um, what?” I think to myself, as my brain frantically replays the interview, searching through my memories to see if I had ever used the term “seamstress.” Nope, not there. I never said I was a seamstress. What will they expect of me? But it’s a film! Just say it! “Um, sure?” Did I just answer them with a question?
“Great! Here is the information on your hotel room and where to report to. See you tomorrow.”
What just happened?
Processing, processing.
The kids!
“Mom! I need you to watch the kids!”
At this point I had no idea what to expect. I packed up my sewing machine, with some accessories, and enough clothes and items for the rest of the week. I didn’t know how long they would keep me. Either way, the drive wasn’t too bad for going home on the weekend so I could refresh clothes if they kept me longer. And stay longer I did. They had me come back every week until they wrapped at that location. I learned a lot from some very sweet ladies who took me under their wings.
The first day, I was shown to the sewing room and introduced to the supervisor. The supervisor, in turn, introduced me to the other two ladies, who were sitting down sewing. As I timidly walked up to them, my sewing machine in hand, one of them looked at me and said, “you look like a deer caught in the headlights,” and with a warm smile added, “It’ll be ok.”
They started teaching me some little tricks of the trade. While sewing up some of the patterns, I made a few comments about how our outfits for the fort were slightly different than the way they were making them. After comparing the differences, the similarities, and the amount of time that could be saved doing it the way I suggested, they changed the patterns to match mine. After they accepted my suggestions, it gave me the confidence I needed to keep learning and growing in this new adventure. By the end of the first week, they had me constructing some of the principals’ clothes.
As a side note, since I had all of my own clothes, which I had worn demonstrating living history for several years, production asked me, on several occasions, to be an extra on camera when they were short on background.
When production began to wrap, and I was no longer needed, I packed my bags, said my goodbyes, and headed home. It was an exciting experience for this young newbie to the industry. But that wasn’t the end.
About a year later, while working in my garden, I received another unexpected phone call.
“Hello?”
“Is this Melondy?”
“Yes.”
“My name is [person], from Spielberg’s Lincoln. We are shorthanded and your name came up from several different people. Could you help us out for maybe a day or two at the most?
“Yes!” Try not to hyperventilate, Melondy!
“Here is all the information [simplified]. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Mom! I need you to watch the kids!”
But it wasn’t for just for one or two days.
More about that later.
