I took my 90-year-old mum to see Edinburgh's best exhibition
She was happy to get out of the house
Taking my not-very-mobile 90-year-old mum for a day out is complicated.
First, I have to take an hour’s bus journey to her house. Then, once her lipstick has been applied, we call an Uber. They will initially look horrified that she’s taking a wheelchair, but then accept the situation and be very helpful, as we pack it into the boot and help her lower slowly into the passenger seat.
Her feet are always the most reluctant to get in the car. They’re rebelling, as they want to be on a footstool, in front of the telly. I wish we could unscrew them and pop them in her handbag.
Anyway, she enjoys the journey, looking out the window at a city that used to be her playground.
When we arrive at our destination, I have to hope that it’s accessible. She doesn’t worry about that. She’s the eternal adventurer.
Always, before we go out, she says, this time I’m going to walk and just take my stick. I say, no chance, not on my watch. The mind is willing, the body is not.
The effort means that there was a lot riding on our trip to Costume Couture: Sixty Years of Cosprop, which is open at Edinburgh’s Dovecot Studios until January 16. It features over 80 costumes from the archives of Cosprop - a London based theatrical costumier that was founded by Oscar and BAFTA-award-winning designer, John Bright.
I don’t know where she’d seen it advertised, but she had suggested it. Otherwise, it might have passed me by.
We were dropped off on Infirmary Street, and we got stuck trying to get up the curb, with the rubbish casual wheelchair that I got on Gumtree a few years ago for £15. A passing woman asked if she could help - “my son is in a wheelchair,” she said. Anyway, she had the knack, and flipped the chair up onto the pavement like magic.
Step one complete. Inside, and I got surprise free admission, as a carer.
Then, through the double doors, and into the open-plan space, which flows, with no bottlenecks, or waiting in line to view things. There were only about five other people visiting the show. We had the run of the place. I could push mum up to every costume and the accompanying exhibition label, and try to anticipate when she was ready for me to move her along. I find it hard to guess this. If only she had a buzzer, a riding crop or could just say ‘onward, tally-ho!’.
There are so many beautiful and iconic things to see. I’ve never watched A Room With A View, but I still recognise this white Edwardian-style dress, as worn by Helena Bonham Carter in the romantic picnic scene. The show also features pieces from films and series including Out of Africa, Tess, Elizabeth, Peaky Blinders, Gentleman Jack and many other classics. There are frocks that probably still have a few A-list skin cells left on them from the likes of Meryl Streep, Cate Blanchett et al.
I’ve never been a fan of bodice-rippers and I won’t be watching the new Sense and Sensibility film, but that doesn’t matter. Mum isn't either. Her favourite film is probably Scott of the Antarctic, and that isn’t known for its elaborate costumes.
We are unusual. Apparently, there were 10 million viewers when Pride and Prejudice aired on the BBC back in the Nineties. We were probably two of the remaining 18 or so who didn’t watch it. Oh well. Colin Firth’s distinctive outfit is here, as is his white shirt, from the emerging-from-the-lake scene that made some viewers go blancmanged at the knees. I’m not romantically susceptible. His wee breeches are too much of an ick.
However, we still adore all the costumes, and can appreciate the tiny nipped-in waists, frothy lace, beading so microscopic it resembles condensation on a wine glass, floor-sweeping trains, and tiny buttons that look like they’ve been embroidered by a vole in bifocals. Then there are the wide crinoline skirts and the puffed up leg-of-lamb sleeves, so you can resemble a winsome linebacker.
On one frock, there’s a train that’s embroidered with golden straw. “Isn’t that just amazing?” says another enthused attendee.
I love Liv Tyler’s dress from the 1999 film Onegin (I haven’t seen it either), which is red satin and shot silk in a Sleeping Beauty juicy apple red. It glows, as if it’s alive.
I’d love to try something on, though I feel they’d need more than one invigilator to lace me up. Maybe a smock would do. Are there any smocks here?
Mum is most excited to see Poirot’s distinctive costume. We discover that David Suchet was too willowy for the role, so this ivory suit is padded round the middle. Suchet called it his ‘armadillo’ suit.
Then there’s Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack Sparrow Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl outfit, complete with those rocking boots.
“They’re not historically accurate,” mutters the man next to us. “There used to not be such a thing as left and right shoes”.
After we’ve cruised round the exhibits for a second time, we go up to the gallery balcony, to look at the Elizabeth Blackadder: A Life in Colour show, which is on until November 16, and listen to the looms clacking rhythmically beneath. Then, to the gift shop, where mum buys about five postcards, before we punctuated our trip with coronation chicken sandwiches in the cafe.
The Uber comes to whisk us back to mum’s house. She’s high and absolutely loved our outing. In fact, she wants to go back asap.
It was very much worth the journey. Even her stubborn feet agree.
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