Costume safari

For years, Angela Lampe has found bargains and inspiration in the Los Angeles Fashion District.

Writer: Angela Lampe
Photographer: Duane Tinkey

Iowa has a lot of quilt shops, but for garment sewers, it’s a fabric desert. In my 32 years as the costume designer for the Des Moines Playhouse, I’ve watched a number of fabric stores disappear. So when the Playhouse’s former board president Allison Engel offered to host me at her home in Los Angeles and to show me around the city’s fashion district, I took her up on it. She promised fabric pay dirt in a way that sounded like the gold rush of 1848. She wasn’t wrong.

The 107-block region known as the L.A. Fashion District includes eight blocks of stores that sell nothing but fabric and sewing “notions,” the catch-all term for needles, thread, buttons, trim and all the other things that fill the bins in the Playhouse’s costume shop. Unlike the big-box craft stores here in Des Moines, where they carry more candy than chiffon and the only silk you’ll find are the flowers, the 70-some independently owned fabric stores in the L.A. Fashion District sell nothing but fabric.

For the last 23 years, the intersection of East Ninth Street and Maple Avenue has become my mecca. I hit the street with my empty red roller bag and my Baggallini crossbody purse (gotta have both hands free to feel the fabric) packed with the essentials: iPhone, credit cards, cash and a big shopping list. I’m usually shopping for multiple Playhouse shows and for staples to restock the costume shop.

My first trip was for “La Cage aux Folles,” in 2001, and my most recent was for last year’s “Beauty and the Beast” and “Jersey Boys.” By now, many of the merchants recognize me. Ray from Journal Fabrics greets me with a hug and a kiss and asks me how many days I’m in town. Sandra at Wall Fabrics squeals, “You’re back! What do you need, my darling?”

So much. I need so much. I usually have a list of specific things, I always keep my mind open and my eyes peeled. For “Beauty and the Beast,” I was looking for golden yellow fabrics to match that iconic dress from the Disney version. Frankly, I’ve never been fond of the puffy ruching — it reminds me of Austrian drapes — so I was on the hunt for something more delicate and floral. I found two lovely pieces, a yellow satin and a sheer net with taffeta flowers, and ended up blending them into a single gown.

Sometimes I see something wonderful and just have to have it. Allison, who loves to accompany me, will ask, “What are you going to make with that?” And I’ll say, “I don’t know, but I’m buying it.” That approach paid off when I needed to retrim an old gown from shows gone by for Belle’s pink dress. A bit of sequin-spangled organza that I couldn’t pass up in L.A. had been languishing in the costume shop for years until it finally got its moment in the spotlight.

Some stores carry everything, and some specialize. Sequins and spandex are everywhere. When I got it in my head to find some wood-grained spandex for a Pinocchio costume, I found it. My search for purple wool for a Willy Wonka tailcoat took me to nearly every store. I found power net, the sheer mesh you see in ice-skating costumes, in every color for “The Little Mermaid.” I scooped up feathers, taffetas, brocades and more for “The Music Man.”

Nothing has a price tag. I simply point at something, ask “How much?” and the merchant names a price. Sometimes he or she asks how many yards I’d like, because the more yardage, the better the price. (Pro tip: Don’t wear your Gucci unless you want to get upcharged.) Knowing how to haggle is a definite bonus. My father taught me the art of walking away from a sale. Twenty-five dollars for gray fake fur for the wolves in “Beauty and the Beast”? Hmm, a bit much. How many yards? How about $20? I’ll think about it. I head for the exit. Wait — $17? Sold.

I am always kind. These are hardworking people who will reward you for being a good customer. If I ask for 5 yards and that leaves just a half-yard on the roll, I buy that, too. Scraps are hard to sell, and they take up space. So often, merchants will toss in an extra yard or two for free.

I love the bigger, cleaner stores that smell good and have air conditioning, like the store with all the lovely cottons that have turned into shirts in “Our Town,” blouses in “Fiddler on the Roof” and dresses in “Little House on the Prairie.” I also love the tiny, cramped and grungy little stores where I’ll happily stand on years of ground-in dirt while a merchant measured out 40 yards of $2 chiffon for “Spamalot.” I’ve spent some of my happiest hours combing through hundreds of buttons at the button store. And

I always hit up “the dump store,” which is filled to the ceiling with fabric scraps and dangerously high shelves of trim. I always find a great deal on lace, gimp and other fun trims, but once I almost tripped over a hidden child dozing in a pile of scraps.

Even shipping the fabric back to Des Moines is fun. A place called City Business Shipping lets me fill boxes for as many days as I am there. On my last day, it’s always a treat to walk in and announce, “I’m done! Let’s ship!” While waiting for them to finish sealing and weighing my boxes,

I watch them talk to clients in whatever language they speak, notarizing things, loading UPS trucks with rolls and rolls of fabric for who knows where, and always handing out free bottles of water.

The hardest part is waiting for the boxes to arrive back at the Playhouse, but the absolute best part is unpacking them and showing off my finds to the team. The deliveries always draw such a crowd that sometimes I wonder: Maybe we should sell tickets.

The Des Moines Playhouse opened a new costume shop this past winter, ready for Lampe’s next haul from L.A.

“Beauty and the Beast,” 2024

Belle’s skirt is made from multiple layers. Taffeta flowers are stitched onto a sheer net that drapes over gold satin, which covers six crinolines. “I wanted a soft fluffy cloud rather than a hoop skirt,” Lampe said.

Lampe’s ball gown for Belle sparkles with sequins glued to stretchy netting often worn by gymnasts and ice skaters.

Under the floral froufrou of Belle’s sleeves, a tighter layer of stretchy netting helped conceal the actor’s tattoos.

“Sunset Boulevard,” 2012

Lampe made a dress for Norma Desmond that was inspired by old Hollywood glamour. She pictured the blue pool behind Norma’s grand old mansion.

Norma’s 10 costumes helped tell the story of her gradual decline. The hem is deliberately torn on this dress for the second act, when she was famously “ready for her closeup.”

One of Norma’s elaborate headdresses is made from feathers, rhinestones and trim glued to a headpiece originally intended for a bridal veil. Even now, “this is the one my nieces always try on,” Lampe said.