Dressing for Success
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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 unraveling
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 tinnitus 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
Giggly Sisters Productions
March 2003