The Making of King Harod
Bringing the eccentric tyrant king to the stage
Summerstock season is here, and I’m thrilled to be back at The Rev, collaborating with some of the most talented artists in the industry. This is one of the best-run theatre companies I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with, and it is a joy to be back as a cutter/draper in the costume shop for a second consecutive year.
Our first production for the season was Jesus Christ Superstar. This was my first time working on this particular show, and it was especially meaningful because it was being directed by Donald Rice— son of Tim Rice, the original lyricist who created the musical alongside Andrew Lloyd Webber. The excitement I felt was electric; I was part of something special, brushing shoulders with theatre royalty, in my opinion.
When I was assigned the task of creating King Herod’s costume, I was immediately intrigued by what our costume designer had in mind. In Jesus Christ Superstar, Herod is a flamboyant and charismatic showman with a touch of comedy, which meant his costume could be as over-the-top and theatrical as the character himself.
I was not disappointed. The costume was to be made from a shimmering gold Oscar de la Renta fabric—priced at eighty dollars a yard—with the most luxurious hand I’ve ever worked with. The design was just as impressive: clean and simple from both the front and back, with gathering on the sleeves. This was a case where the fabric was meant to do the talking, and it certainly did.
I was handed eight yards of this luxurious fabric with a clear reminder: this was all we had. The design needed to be long, very flowing, and full of gathers, yet I also had to conserve as much material as possible for a potential second project. No pressure, right?
This meant I had to be meticulous with my measurements and plan the pattern layout carefully to conserve as much fabric as possible. However, I couldn’t cut the pieces on the fold due to the fabric’s slippery texture or it could easily shift and lead to inaccuracies. Instead, every pattern piece had to be laid out flat and cut in full.
Now, if you’ve ever worked with me before, you know all about my cutting anxiety. For those unfamiliar, it's that wave of nerves and fears that hits right before making the very first cut into a new piece of fabric. Yes, it’s real, and yes, I’ve had it since my design school days. Even after finalizing the pattern and perfecting the mock-up, I still stood there for a solid ten minutes before finally making that first slice.
But once that first cut was finally made, I was off and running. Since the fabric was very delicate and prone to fraying, the entire garment had to be French seamed— about twenty-five feet of French seams. It took me two full workdays to complete, maybe three, I’m not sure, I may have blacked out.
And if you’re wondering, yes, I cried. But mostly tears of joy because I was so thrilled to be working with such gorgeous fabric. (At least, that’s the story I gave my shop manager when she asked why I looked like I’d just survived a scene out of Les Mis.) Honestly though, French seams are a hallmark of couture craftsmanship, and truly, there’s no other way to construct a garment using Oscar de la Renta fabric.
Once the entire garment was put together, I placed it on the dress form, and in that moment, I completely understood why the fabric came with such a high price. Made from natural fibers, its drape was absolutely unmatched. It shimmered and flowed with such elegance, it genuinely looked like liquid gold. And that’s not just me talking—that was a direct quote from Donald.
I quickly learned why conserving fabric was so important—I needed it to make bias tape. Two hundred and sixty inches of handmade bias tape, to be exact. Enough to finish the entire front opening and the dramatic, cascading sleeves. But this time, there were no tears. I channeled my inner powerhouse and got to work.
The final step in the process was gathering the sleeves. In this design, the gathering started at the high point shoulder and extended all the way down to the wrist—about 25 inches for each side. To ensure precision, twill tape was secured at the seam’s base for stabilization, then pinned to the exact measurement. From there, I divided the length into even sections and carefully gathered each one by pulling the basting stitches, section by section.
Gathering is always a painstakingly slow process, but this time, it felt like the light at the end of the tunnel. The fact that this was the last step gave me the drive I needed to push through and see the project through to completion.
One week after being handed the fabric for construction, I was finally finished, and I had conserved just enough fabric for our first-hand, Amara, to create a halter blouse for our King to wear beneath the robe. The final look was the result of a beautiful collaboration between skilled sewists and visionary designers, coming together to help our actor fully connect with the character and step seamlessly into the role.
Tiffany Howard, our costume designer, had a bold vision for King Herod—one that demanded both elegance and spectacle. My role was to bring that vision to life. Usually, my inner critic whispers doubts and sows’ uncertainty, but this was not one of those times. I was resolute, ready to weave that shimmering liquid gold fabric into a masterpiece that would command attention and present biblical grandeur.
And if you’re wondering whether I cried when it was all finished—yes, I did. Like a baby. But it was from the bittersweet feeling of finishing something so special… and wishing I could do it all over again.
