ebster was showing film costumes through the ages in a way that I found initially annoying. The actual costumes were wheeled onto the stage, displayed along with a clip from the film that immortalized it. Then a curtain to the right lifted up and showed another costume, another clip. Left, right, back to center stage, right, left again until all of our heads had turned 180 degrees several times over.

Oh, how exciting and moving it was to watch those films! To see so many beautiful people in their prime, all in a world that didn't know AIDS-- there was definitely a freedom to their lives as they lived them that we just don't know today. Elizabeth Taylor as Cleopatra was an incredible specimen of human beauty.

After it was over, we were led into a back chamber that was set up the way a traditional film costume museum would be. The fact that it was tiny was rather nice-- it was like going from macro to micro, and the pieces selected here were really good. In the center display stood Marilyn Monroe's white dress from Seven Year Itch, now yellowish over time. There was Barbra Streisand's beaded Hello Dolly! dress and grand costumes once worn by Bette Davis, Elizabeth Taylor, etc.

The thing that really stopped me in my tracks, though, was the pair of ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz. A light in the case shone on them, making them sparkle magically, the way they did in the movie. The crowd milled around me, murmuring about various costumes and film starts as they remembered them, while I just stayed rooted in place, looking at those ruby slippers in strange, transfixed awe. They sparkled, but looking closely, what was it they were made of? It looked to me like tiny rows of sequins, fastidiously stiched together.

I think I was one of the last few people to leave the room. Standing before the slippers, I suddenly blinked tears and a second later panicked about what I was going to do about it. Any movement like brushing my eyes would be too obvious. I decided to stand there and wait for them to evaporate, sink into my skin, or at the very least, maybe I'd be one of the last people there and I'd get out that way, which is what happened. There were two people remaining after me, talking amongst themselves. I just brushed the tears, said "That was really great," to the usher and then I was out the door...and into this lobby area filled with autographed posters.