As the story line of Cirque du Soleil’s OVO unfolds, all eyes are on Michelle Matlock in a vivid red Ladybug outfit the show’s costume designer, Liz Vandal, created to suit her plump figure. The Shakespeare-trained actress is in her glory as the object of affection from the fly. The stars of a love affair in a community of agile insects, they express their feelings for each other and excitement about the egg that appears mysteriously.
“The Ladybug is optimistic, playful and romantic,” Matlock said. “I love that she is so hopeful. When they described the role to me, I thought of her as a romantic who hadn’t yet found love but was confident and waiting for that special someone.”
Matlock credits her classical training with developing a physical point of view that enabled her to slip into the Ladybug’s persona. During six months of preparation in Montreal, she incorporated the director’s vision of a creature whose movements convey her feelings without words.
Matlock depends on Steve Armstrong, OVO wardrobe head, to make certain that her Ladybug costume is in pristine condition for every performance. Along with the Ladybug outfit, he is responsible for 150 costumes and a variety of hats and shoes. The Montreal native and former professional snowboarder buys costumes and makeup as needed and continually tests the fabrics for elasticity. These chores are natural for one who was stitching his own costumes on the home sewing machine at age 12.
“When I was competing, my sponsors gave me only my board and boots,” he said. “I had to supply my own costume and my mom didn’t want to keep buying new ones, so I dismantled my dad’s work clothes and designed my own. Later on, after joining the army and discovering it wasn’t my vocation, I went to college and studied fashion.”
As an athlete, Armstrong understands the wear and tear on costumes. The largest belongs to the caterpillar. Similar to a dryer pipe, the costume is made of nylon, metal and wire. Armstrong and his team make simple repairs, but most costumes must be replaced on an average of every three months, some every two months. He constantly works on improving each outfit, often with input from the artists.
“These people are not just gymnasts, but all have other backgrounds,” he said. “One who is an engineer improved the cricket legs by developing a new internal structure that enables them to jump better.”
After each performance, Armstrong and his team do the entire laundry, a task that takes until midnight followed by eight hours drying time. In addition to maintaining their costumes, he is responsible for teaching all 56 artists how to apply their unique makeup. The crickets can apply theirs in about 10 minutes, but the fly, the most intricate, takes an hour. The 2,000 costumes and assorted items are stored in road cases — some that he designed — which travel from city to city in a trailer equipped with a bathroom, showers for men and women, the laundry room, refrigerator for makeup and rows of cabinets.
Even though the entire show depends heavily on Armstrong’s department, he takes the pressure in stride. Laughing, he said, “At the beginning of the tour, I dreamed about the insects and their wardrobe, but after six months, I shoved them into my subconscious.”
