Joan’s Closet: Performance Attire Advice
NOVEMBER 4, 2020 MARK WATSON

Performance gowns are costly, and shopping for them can be confusing. Some students find this expense beyond their reach and some lack a reference for what will present best onstage. Philanthropist Joan Taub Ades has gone above and beyond in finding a solution to these problems for the female performers at the Manhattan School of Music.



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oan’s Closet is an event!” says Maitland Peters, chairman of Manhattan School of Music’s (MSM) voice department. He is referring to the once-a-year gift of new and gently used gowns and audition clothes for all the young ladies enrolled at the school. Last year, 525 garments were given away.
This program has the enthusiastic support of James Gandre, president of Manhattan School of Music. “Studying music is a very expensive proposition; Joan’s Closet gives the performers the confidence and look of being a professional,” says Gandre. “Joan is there the entire time—her energy, excitement, and enthusiasm makes it a glorious day.”

The mastermind of all this is Joan Taub Ades. In her beautiful apartment overlooking Central Park, Ades—a generous patron of the arts and long-time supporter of MSM—explained how it began.

Tell us a little about how Joan’s Closet began?

It started 11 years ago when I sat in on the auditions at the Manhattan School of Music and I saw that the judges would sometimes see an applicant, dislike the way she looked, and say, “Next!” I could see that the problem was not just money, but taste.

So I decided to help by getting every girl at MSM an appropriate audition dress. I’ll never see these girls again, but in this town, judges expect a tied-up package in a bow. And if this one doesn’t have the complete package, the next one in line will. When they walk out on the stage, I can’t give them a talent, but I sure can make them look good.

My first year, I asked friends of mine for audition clothes. A lot of people didn’t know what that meant. So I started advertising in Playbill, New York City Ballet, ABT [American Ballet Theatre], the [New York] Philharmonic, and Carnegie Hall for donations. I put in things like, “I want your clothes!”

I got nothing from the opera crowd. The ones that did the best for me were the ballet folk. Sometimes I got blue jeans or tee shirts with palm trees that went with the blue jeans. They didn’t understand what I needed. My friends didn’t wear double zeros, they wore between 6 and 12, so I started buying things.

I had 400 or so young people who needed clothes. I went to Bloomingdale’s, Lord & Taylor, Century 21, and I only bought on sale. It took me about a year to get the clothes assembled. I bought everything . . . sometimes not the right thing.

At first the event was very small; I wasn’t really sure of myself. We had logistical problems that needed to be ironed out, too. We started with racks in the hallway—the clothes were all over the place. It was like bedlam. And we were getting people off the street! When I heard that, I said, “That will never happen again!”

So now they leave their ID. It’s down to a science—50 at one time. Now we have about 15 little Moroccan tents. It is adorable. We ring a bell and the first 50 come. Each one has half an hour looking at the clothes and taking three items in the dressing rooms.

And we play salsa music to “move it around.” I want to keep the spontaneity, which is part of Joan’s Closet. That’s the fun. One for all and all for one. No one taught me this, but I could be a professional buyer.

That’s a major undertaking. Was there a learning curve?

It took me maybe two years to understand how to buy what judges want to see in singers, in jazz performers, instrumentalists, and the Broadway theater. I had to learn for myself that someone playing the harp or the cello needed A-line skirts. But nothing could be cut down to the kazoo! It had to be elegant and classic because the “wow” had to come not when they walked in but when they finished singing or playing the piano.

It had to have sides; I could get slits if they could be sewn down. Some things could be lower than others, some things had to have short arms. I didn’t want to get many black things because they are young people—but if I did, I would augment it with pearls. I wanted to get everyone their own pearl collection—which I never did. Single strand, double strand, bracelet, button earing, and hanging ones, all in pearls because they could always know it’s suitable.

What other changes have you made?

I realized that many of the clothes still needed to be fitted properly, so I found this lovely lady on 109th Street who had a shop for alterations. That created a different problem because what was happening is that some girls were bringing their own clothes in and having them altered. No, no, no. Now everything has our logo: “These clothes came from Joan’s Closet.”

What types of garments do you offer?

Most of the gowns are long. I do get pants if they are satin or tuxedo-like with a wonderful lace. Some [dresses] are cocktail length. Except for the jazz performers—jazz needs pants and bright colors.

I got a donation of something like monkey fur. And I said, “I want that too!” That’s going to be perfect for a jazz player. They’ll put a belt around it . . . they wear very strange things to begin with.

So I have to have some reds and pinks. Now the theatre people need something they can dance in. How can you kick in a pencil skirt? They need flippy and flitty and short with very short flippy sleeves in jewel colors like sapphire, ruby, emerald.

So you’re not afraid of color at all?

No, but design is important.

Now that I have fewer people sending things in, I don’t want separates. That’s what I get stuck with. Someone sends a jacket, someone sends pants—then I have to go through all these things and make outfits, which is a pain in the neck. I have made 40 or 50 outfits. Otherwise, the clothes get sent back.

I get thrilled when the same people keep donating, but the double zeros and zeros I have to buy. I never get donations in that size. Twos, yes. I was also buying little Eton jackets in Chinatown for them and stoles. The girls take them all.

Oh, I take off the garish rhinestone things that are plunked on their stomach. I don’t know what these designers are thinking. You want to be sotto voce. You don’t need, “Hello, I’m a rhinestone pin!” I am choosing these things for a reason.

I was wiped clean last year . . . they took everything, so I’m starting all over again.



Can you give me any of your strategies?

If you put a large girl in an evening gown, it must be draped strategically [indicating a diagonal line] over the tummy, over the chest, over the tush. Those look beautiful. Unfortunately, a lot of the larger sizes were made for old people. These girls are young, and I don’t want them to look frumpy-dumpy! So they have to be in bright colors. These are things I went after.

And I wait for all the deductions. I’m looking for that, too. The whole thing is down to a science. I am like a machine at the store. The salespeople understand what I need. They know I can’t have anything strapless.

At Lord & Taylor they know, “Oh, this woman buys by the rack, she’s worthwhile.” These clothes are for important artists who have to be taken seriously. Now, if they want to go naked after their interviews and auditions, they can—but when they audition, they have to cover up.

If I were to put you in front of a group of young performers, what advice would you give them?

Understatement is the way to go. Less is more. Simplicity is the best. That doesn’t mean you have to be austere. You can wear sleeveless dresses—they can have a lovely neckline, and perhaps a little bit of décolleté. Everything in moderation.

You will get demerits if you are wearing the inappropriate audition clothes. That’s part of the game. If you don’t look right, one of your colleagues will. And they will get the part based on how they look.

Just remember, that first impression you make is when you step out on that stage . . . you are being judged. The first step out, people are looking at how you are walking, your carriage, your hair, everything about you. Then the last thing is your dancing or playing or singing. No bling, the colors shouldn’t be garish, no overstatement. Simple, always simple. Your music must take over, not what you are wearing.

When the young ladies come into Joan’s Closet, do you give them advice?

If they want it. I am always there early in the morning when the first group comes at nine and I leave when the last group finishes at five. And I’m always walking around. I am there for a reason.

If I see something doesn’t fit or people have broken a zipper because they have stretched it too far, I may say, “I wish I had it in another size. I’m not a store.”

Once I hit pay dirt with a certain dress. It came in all different gorgeous colors. I said, “Anything you have, this is my winner!” I knew it would look wonderful on everybody.

Sometimes I’ll see them walking around trying on one of the dresses, and if something looks really bad, I’ll walk up to them and say, “Oh how lovely. Would you have any other clothes in your dressing room that you could try on for me?” And they always do.

And then when they come out with the new dress, I might say, “Oh this is so much better, don’t you think?” Sometimes they pour themselves into these things and they stick out here and they stick out there. Oh, no! They wouldn’t get a job.

I know I’m buying the right things because I get letters from these girls and pictures of them wearing them . . . on tour in Italy or waiting for their audition. It’s so exciting. Last year, I got a card that was a three-foot crepe paper doll. The skirt was in a flocked wallpaper and the belt had a buckle that said, “Joan’s Closet.” And when you opened it up, there were 12 pages of things that people wrote about why they liked the clothes.

We started small and now it is so successful and popular . . . and so needed. These girls shop at Joan’s Closet for every year that they are in the school. That could be undergrad, grad, masters, doctorates, professional studies . . . so if they’re in the school seven or eight years, they have seven or eight garments tailored for them, so they know the things fit well.

Do you suggest make-up or hair?

I don’t do make-up but if they ask, I might suggest something.

What about shoes?

Basic shoes. And don’t constrict yourself in your undergarments where you can’t breathe! Don’t push yourself out; clothes must fit. Do not get into a tight dress. Don’t show everything you have . . . keep it a secret till after the auditions.

For a look into Joan’s fabulous closet, watch the following video:

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Mark Watson
Mark Watson
Mark Watson is a frequent contributor to Classical Singer. He studied voice on full scholarship at the Juilliard School and is a board-certified music therapist and a registered Rodenburg teacher.