Tilly is hilarious and quick-witted in her role; she uses a plethora of fashion and pop culture references (think RuPaul, Trelise Cooper, America’s Next Top Model) throughout the show, centring Margot as a fashion mogul and lessening the barrier between herself, the Margot persona, and their audience. From the way she pronounces Louboutins to her little ‘we’re moving to the next segment of the scene’ shimmies across the stage, the experience is funny keeps us in good spirits.
Dressing Up with Margot is easily divisible into two halves: the first focuses more on Margot and her teaching us how to fashion, and the second shifts more to Tilly and her stories and struggles. The shift is rather sudden, with a sharp tonal change from camp to solemn, from up in the air then slamming to the ground, but once we’re there with Tilly, everyone settles in and we all start to sympathise (and some will empathise) with her struggles with body image and comfort. It’s a wholesome venture.
I do wish Dressing Up with Margot played more with its audience. We’re asked to write on little prompts before the show, and there are times guests are invited up to either talk about their fashion sense or receive a wardrobe makeover. Seeing Tilly interact with the audience carves out some excellent comedic moments, especially when she knows her audience members and calls them by name. But these moments are too brief; only one of the prompts is used and when we're asked to help Margot select outfits, there's not enough guidance. If there was more dressing up with Margot in the show, getting more involved with Margot’s wardrobe and advice, it’d help smooth out the show’s sometimes jittery flow.
Dressing Up with Margot is an enjoyable start to an evening of Fringe. The feel-good messages tied up in her camp yet warming show are form-fitting and make us feel bright like we’re glistening in sequins. Tilly would do well to continue this show’s development, seeing just how far and how fine she can shape its engaging narrative. Her ninety-ninth rule, courtesy of Mother herself, RuPaul, sums it up better than I can: ‘If you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you going to love somebody else?’