Review of Paula Varjack/The Cult of K*nzo by Harmony Nanton
Whoever said one woman was not enough has never met Paula Varjack. This actress starred in her very own one-woman show, Cult of K*NZO, on May 2nd at the Matthew’s Yard theatre – part of the Croydonites Festival of New Theatre 2019.
As soon as I entered the room, my eyes were met by bright pops of colour – something along the lines of jungle meets art deco. The audience was invited into a new world which Varjack set up herself using branded shoe boxes and lipsticks alongside perfume bottles, creating a microcosm of the much-envied world of fashion. Varjack’s use of voice animation transformed the branded shoe boxes into huge stores, and the lipsticks and perfume bottles turned into the different personas of those she met while lining up for her first taste of high end fashion.
The whole piece commented on the luxury brands which so many admire and long to possess but cannot afford. As I watched I felt connected, with a real understanding of the class system and how fashion plays a huge role in unconsciously identifying and segregating the privileged from the underprivileged. The show was cleverly knitted together, allowing me to walk away having learned how high end fashion has made its way into our stores today.
Then, presented with the video footage of Varjack’s actual venture to H&M at Westfield for the franchise’s collaborative collection with KENZO, I realised that the story Varjack has told us was real. I do not remember this fashion feeding frenzy myself and had never heard of the brand or the lengths that individuals had gone to in order to get into these stores. Now the performance felt distanced – seeming to have come from a different country rather than my nearest shopping centre.
Components of Varjack’s comedy reminded me of comedienne Sarah Blanc’s one woman show about the lengths people go to in adopting beauty tips and tricks. Varjack mocked equally accepted but ridiculous things such as perfume adverts in which men bend over backwards at the scent of a female and in which flowers miraculously grow in her wake. The whole performance was reality made visible. For some, it may well have have been the first opportunity they had to reflect on the techniques brands use to market an imagined utopia.
Ten red wrist bands mentioned in the story were given out to audience members upon arrival, sparking no thought other than as proof I’d seen the show. It was not until I much later that evening that I noticed the band still on my wrist – and now its meaning sunk in. I felt as if the show had followed me home.
If you didn’t catch the show as part of Croydonites, the tour continues into the autumn across the UK.
by Harmony Nanton
As soon as I entered the room, my eyes were met by bright pops of colour – something along the lines of jungle meets art deco. The audience was invited into a new world which Varjack set up herself using branded shoe boxes and lipsticks alongside perfume bottles, creating a microcosm of the much-envied world of fashion. Varjack’s use of voice animation transformed the branded shoe boxes into huge stores, and the lipsticks and perfume bottles turned into the different personas of those she met while lining up for her first taste of high end fashion.
The whole piece commented on the luxury brands which so many admire and long to possess but cannot afford. As I watched I felt connected, with a real understanding of the class system and how fashion plays a huge role in unconsciously identifying and segregating the privileged from the underprivileged. The show was cleverly knitted together, allowing me to walk away having learned how high end fashion has made its way into our stores today.
Then, presented with the video footage of Varjack’s actual venture to H&M at Westfield for the franchise’s collaborative collection with KENZO, I realised that the story Varjack has told us was real. I do not remember this fashion feeding frenzy myself and had never heard of the brand or the lengths that individuals had gone to in order to get into these stores. Now the performance felt distanced – seeming to have come from a different country rather than my nearest shopping centre.
Components of Varjack’s comedy reminded me of comedienne Sarah Blanc’s one woman show about the lengths people go to in adopting beauty tips and tricks. Varjack mocked equally accepted but ridiculous things such as perfume adverts in which men bend over backwards at the scent of a female and in which flowers miraculously grow in her wake. The whole performance was reality made visible. For some, it may well have have been the first opportunity they had to reflect on the techniques brands use to market an imagined utopia.
Ten red wrist bands mentioned in the story were given out to audience members upon arrival, sparking no thought other than as proof I’d seen the show. It was not until I much later that evening that I noticed the band still on my wrist – and now its meaning sunk in. I felt as if the show had followed me home.
If you didn’t catch the show as part of Croydonites, the tour continues into the autumn across the UK.
by Harmony Nanton