Directing for the first time comes with a lot of learning curves. One lesson I learned in a very vivid way when I directed my first play was that your words matter.

I was directing Qui Nguyen’s She Kills Monsters with a local community theatre group. There is a scene where one character, Miles, appears as a doppelgänger of themself– an evil, villainous corruption of the “real” character.

The first rehearsal was our read-through. My stage manager was reading all the stage directions aloud, which made the note that Miles appeared in this scene “dressed like Conan the Barbarian” stand out. If you’re unaware, Conan the Barbarian is generally presented wearing garments ranging in description from fur skirt to fur loincloth to fur… diaper… panty… thing.

We all had a good laugh over it, and I was quick to assure the actor that he wouldn’t actually have to wear a fur miniskirt; in fact, it would probably be easiest if he just stayed in his normal costume.

After the read-through, a few actors lingered to ask some questions about costume pieces they were planning to buy. (This is a theatre where costumes are generally the actor’s financial responsibility.) During this, the actor playing Miles approached me. For context, this was a 20-something guy who I had known from afar for a number of years, who had always seemed pretty quiet and even-keeled. The actor sidled up almost shyly, and said, “you know, I don’t mind wearing the Conan outfit.”

I laughed, but he doubled down, and I slowly realized he wasn’t joking.

“Oh, it definitely isn’t needed,” I said.

“But I totally will,” he said quickly, and there was something eager in his voice that made me weigh my next words carefully.

I said, “Do you… want to wear a fur loincloth for this scene?”

The actor positively lit up. I had truly been planning on keeping him in the same costume he’d worn for the rest of the show– but sure, I guess, why not? It was literally my very first day directing a play by myself, and I didn’t want to crush an actor’s hopes and dreams this early in the process.

I (and the cast as a whole) were fortunate enough to have a talented costumer in the cast. She’s a sweet older woman who is a staple– something of an icon, even– in our local theatre community. I showed her the Conan line and asked her to make a costume for the scene. We supplied her with a ratty fur coat that we thrifted that was on its last legs for the fur. This was a bit later in the process, so the number of things I had on my plate was stacking up fast.

I had told her, “something sort of… Barbarian-kilt-skirt-like. A loincloth or something.”

She said she understood, and, relieved to check another need off my massive to-do list, I almost forgot about the interaction.

A few days later, now officially into crunch time, I was working with a few actors while the rest were on a brief break. We were reviewing some physical action, and I was very focused on the task at hand when I heard a voice.

“What do you think of the Doppelgänger outfit?”

I turned and the sheer amount of flesh I was witnessing made me avert my eyes. I supplied the photos of Conan the Barbarian above, but nothing can prepare you for seeing someone you know in real life quite that exposed. Every inch of this man’s skin was out, aside for a strip around the waist and one perilously narrow flap of fabric in the front and back.

I am pretty sure I exclaimed “oh my god.”

Keeping my eyes pinned somewhere high above the head of the actor (who seemed absolutely delighted about his costume, by the way), I explained to the costumer (who also seemed equally delighted), “You know what, I am so sorry, this is exactly what I asked for… but I think it might be a little too much?”

Thankfully, I didn’t have to ask the costumer to change much. She added a few additional bits of fur, so that the effect was a bit closer to a skirt. The actor also ended up wearing a sort of cape, which provided a little bit of much-needed additional coverage.

The first time this costume was unveiled on stage during rehearsal, all of the other actors broke character, and the whole scene was done through valiant attempts to cover giggles.

The only actor who didn’t break character was the one playing Miles, of course.