Dressing for Success
Joe was
idly leafing through the contents of his wardrobe, watched with great interest
by Paw, the Giggly Sisters’ pet bear. His dresser contained great amounts of
shirts, but most of them looked to be almost identical, in a subdued shade of lightish
brown. Or was that taupe? Or perhaps even beige? He looked at Paw, but the bear
merely shrugged his furry shoulders and returned to unravelling the threads on
Joe’s candlewick bedspread. In the next drawer were some white shirts, but
these were obviously for special occasions, as they were stiffly starched and
looked a bit uncomfortable.
Succumbing
to the inevitable, Joe pulled on a shirt and decided it was probably tan. He
had vague memories of once owning a rather nifty black (or was it dark navy?)
shirt and he wondered where that had gone. Probably Adam had disposed of it,
for he had a marked aversion to ever wearing anything that remotely resembled
an outfit being modelled by his father or brothers. A smile flitted across
Joe’s face as he remembered how proud Ben had been when he had bought matching
tan suede waistcoats for all the family, along with dark brown neckerchiefs,
which he insisted they should wear at a jaunty angle. How furiously Adam had
reacted to that! Joe couldn’t quite remember if that was the famous occasion
his brother had thrown his hat on to the ground in a fit of pique, but he
certainly hadn’t been happy!
Paw had
spotted one of Joe’s string ties, which was actually a satin ribbon, and was
trying to tie it round his own neck, when the Giggly Sisters walked in. “Aw,
look at Paw!” exclaimed the redhead in delight. Her tresses were even more
vibrantly coloured than usual, thanks to the addition of glittery hair mascara,
courtesy of her eldest daughter. “Isn’t he sweet?”
“Just adorable,”
the blonde said, helping the wee bear tie a bow.
“What about
me?” Joe pouted attractively. “Aren’t I adorable?”
Hoss, who
happened to be passing just then, stuck his head round the door. “Joe, you’re
cute,” he asserted. “Ain’t he cute, girls?”
“He’s
cute,” the sisters chorused adoringly. Joe smirked.
“What are
you doing, poppet?” asked the blonde, perching on the edge of the bed and
taking Paw onto her lap. The little bear stuck his paw down her top with a
contented smile.
“I was just
looking at my clothes,” Joe said. “They all seem remarkably similar. I can’t
find that dark coloured shirt I used to wear in the early credits, and I really
liked it. I wore it in The Gunmen, too.”
“We liked
it as well,” the redhead assured him, rifling through his drawers and showing
off her experience of finding ‘lost’ clothes. However, the shirt stayed lost,
despite her experience.
“I was
quite fond of the pants I wore in the early seasons, too,” Joe went on. “They
were nice and long, but the seamstress in Virginia City seems to spend such a
lot of time fitting them to my butt and…” Joe blushed and hastily went on. “It
seems rude to complain that they’re a bit short in the leg.”
“And what
happened to that nice grey-ish cord jacket you wore in season 1?” asked the
redhead. “And your lovely blue one? I’m not too fond of green, it has to be
said.”
“I don’t
know,” Joe answered, frustrated. “I got up one day, went to get them, and they
were gone. Like my black hat. I’m sure I started wearing that tan one when Adam
started wearing a black one.” He had a closer look at the redhead’s hair,
deciding that it was redder than it had been the previous day. He had no idea
how she accomplished that, but he liked the effect.
He returned
to his dresser and started leafing through his vast collection of pants. Once
again, they were all depressingly similar: stone coloured, gratifying tight
across the hips, but woefully short in the leg. Oh well, they were an
improvement on the baggy ones he recalled wearing. Hoss flushed: for some
reason all his trousers were baggy! And it got even worse when he was made to
tuck them into his boots!
Joe pulled
out a pair of dress trousers, which were brown, with a faint stripe.
“Quite nice,
poppet,” the blonde commented, “but surely black would be more appropriate?”
Hoss was
beginning to get really mad now. At least Joe had some decent clothes to wear
to parties, weddings etc!
“I have to
wear that awful brown jacket!” he said mournfully. Did the wardrobe department
have something against him? And if so, why? He was a kind-hearted chap, a
decent actor and was universally liked – so why were his clothes so
unremittingly awful?
“It’s not
as bad as that hairy horse blanket they fashioned into a winter coat for you in
The Last Hunt!” the redhead said, trying to be helpful. The blonde had produced
a bottle of champagne from her handbag and was pouring everyone a glass. Except
Paw, who got a nice can of condensed milk, as he was still a baby.
“Well, I
had to wear that appalling blue-checked number!” Joe protested. “You must
remember that, Hoss? It had that awful half-belt on the back and was far too
big for me?”
“I sure do.
But have you noticed, quite often we’ll be riding along in our shirtsleeves,
and then old Adam breezes up, wearing that custard-coloured number he’s so fond
of? Don’t seem right, somehow.”
“I’d blame
the script girl,” the blonde said sagely. “She never really seems to have a
clue what’s going on. I mean, have you noticed the way she always seems to keep
Joe’s feet covered up, even when he’s in his nightshirt? Except, of course, for
that wonderful scene in Springtime”
Joe quickly
changed the subject, for the blonde’s fascination with his feet was something
he felt should be kept private and behind closed doors.
“And of
course, I’m never allowed to have belt loops on my trousers, am I? What’s that
all about?”
Adam
entered the room and everyone immediately looked at his trousers, which were
sporting turn-ups of almost ludicrous proportions.
“Is it
raining outside?” the redhead asked innocently.
Adam
scowled at the redhead wondering (not for the first time it must be said) if
hair came that colour in nature. He was almost sure it didn’t. Almost.
“Raining?” he repeated. “No, why?”
The redhead
sniggered, but didn’t reply.
“Do you
suppose the seamstress actually understands about fitting leg length?” the
blonde asked, eyeing Adam’s turn-ups. “Because, Adam, those make your legs look
very short indeed.”
Adam looked
down at his legs, which he thought were perfectly in proportion to the rest of
him. “What seamstress?” he asked, finally. “I just bought these off the peg in
the mercantile.”
“Why don’t
you dress like the rest of the family?” asked the redhead.
“I don’t
like to follow the crowd,” Adam said, loftily. The redhead could sympathise
with that, as she wasn’t too keen on doing the same as everyone else either.
Still, it wasn’t quite the answer she was looking for.
“And what
do you wear that custard-coloured coat?” asked the blonde.
“You
wouldn’t believe some of the explanations I’ve heard about that,” the redhead
said, in a stage whisper, to Joe. Joe, who’d heard some of these highly
unbelievable stories before, sniggered. Adam flushed.
“I feel the
cold,” he said, with dignity.
“Its useful
for hidin’ yer big bum, too,” Hoss put in innocently. “You done told me that,
Adam.”
“It was a
joke!” Adam hissed, and Hoss looked confused. It sure hadn’t sounded like a
joke the way Adam told it!
The door
opened, and Ben stuck his head in. “What are you all doing in here?” he asked.
“I was
looking to see if I could find some of my favourite clothes,” Joe answered.
“But they seem to have disappeared.”
Ben did one
of those little “harrumph” noises that he specialised in, and looked down at
himself contentedly: yup, his conchos were all present and correct! Joe
remembered all those excruciating times as a child when Ben had clasped him to
his manly chest: boy, those metal conchos sure left an imprint on your cheek!
Plus, it had to be said that leather wasn’t the best material to snuggle up
against. You came away rather sweaty and with crease marks all over your face.
“Paw?” Hoss
enquired tentatively and both Ben and the bear turned around expectantly. Not
for the first time, Hoss wondered why he spoke so differently to the rest of
his family. He cast an enquiring look towards the supremely inept script girl,
but once again she was out to lunch. Literally and figuratively.
“Why do I
have to wear this dumb hat?”
Ben smiled indulgently
and ogled the Giggly Sisters discretely. As the extras were wont to say, they
sure were prime dames!
“It’s
called a sugar loaf hat, son.”
Hoss took
umbrage at this. “No it ain’t! Anyone who says that is just trying it on sumthin’
fierce. It’s a monstrosity, that’s what it is!” Mind you, it did come in handy
for stowing the odd snack for elevenses under. You could pack in an entire
roast chicken in there and still have room for an apple pie and the odd carrot
or two.
“At least
your hat doesn’t have those rather disturbing undertones of S and M that Adam’s
bondage hat-band has,” the blonde reassured him. Adam bristled rather at this
and flaunted his hairy chest.
“Put it
away!” the redhead shrieked, being of a delicate disposition. All that wiry
hair had an incredibly disturbing likeness to something else and it made her
feel rather sick. Adam gave one of his thin smiles, in which his top lip almost
seemed to disappear completely and revelled in the fact that he still had a disturbing
effect on ladies.
Hop Sing
breezed in at this point. “You think you’ve got problems?” he enquired testily,
in a perfect RP accent that gave him an uncanny resemblance to Prince Charles
(if you closed your eyes and fast-forwarded to 1948). “Count yourselves lucky
that you don’t have to wear these bloody demeaning silk jammies and matching
hat!” With that, he flounced out of the room, wondering why he had ever left
the Charlie Chan films. He’d been able to wear a perfectly acceptable lounge
suit in them.
“I’ve been
wanting to ask you something for ages.” The blonde was standing very close to
Joe and her soft tones whispered gently against his sticky-out ears, which
actually were very convenient for someone who regularly wore a hat, as they
stopped it from sliding down over his nose.
Joe flashed
her an adoring smile. Had she noticed the way his stand-in liked to wear black
boots just to confuse the viewers? On second thoughts, given her predilection
for his feet, perhaps it was best not to go there. He goosed the redhead
instead.
“You are
left-handed, aren’t you?” asked the blonde and a slow smile came over Joe’s
outrageously handsome face, as he ran his hand through his hair, rumpling his
curls so that one fell tantalisingly over his forehead. He knew what was
coming!
“I sure am
honey!” A lazy grin crept across his face as he anticipated the next question.
“Then
why...” A paroxysm of infection giggles overtook the blonde, causing Adam to
clap his hands over his ears in protest. A bad back was enough to cope with; he
certainly didn’t need tinitus too. Crowing and whooping with laughter, the
blonde was unable to continue, so the redhead took up the tale.
“But that’s
not logical and it simply doesn’t fit with the facts. I mean, no discerning
viewer can have failed to notice that you dress to the left! Doesn’t that make
things a little, …err, um … tricky?”
Ben looked
positively mortified. He tried to bring his sons up as decent, God-fearing men
and then these girls came along and started noticing all the little
inconsequential incongruities that were perfectly normal for one of Nevada’s
most prominent families. He put his head in his hands: the worst he had
imagined was that the sisters would bring up the dreadful headband Adam
modelled so disastrously in The Savage and The Crucible. It was almost on a par
with his hammy, over-the-top performance in both episodes. Luckily, the family
interaction scenes had been kept to a minimum, for he wasn’t sure he’d have
been able to keep a straight face during his son’s worst excesses. But this was
infinitely worse.
Joe’s eyes
(were they hazel or were they green?) twinkled beguilingly as he looked at the
sisters with undisguised delight. Their honesty was so refreshing!
“Honey,” he
drawled, lowering his voice exactly 3 semitones, to devastating effect,
“That’ll take an entire story to itself!”
The End
March
2003