My Life in Fishnets: A Personal Rocky Horror Story

By Christian Lipski

It’s amazing to look back and really see how much of my life was dedicated to The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I’m sure it’s the same for people who were really into sports or D&D or any other life-consuming hobby. At the time, though, it was just Rocky, and that was it. It was just what I did.

The first time I heard about The Rocky Horror Picture Show was freshman year in high school. The cooler kids were all talking about going out Saturday at midnight to see some movie, and they asked if I wanted to go. They filled me in on the hijinks that went on: yelling back at the screen, throwing toilet paper, and even people who dressed up as characters from the film and acted it out in the front of the theater. It sounded like pure anarchy, and I wanted in. Unfortunately, I was 14 and staying up until two in the morning to see an R-rated movie was not on my list of possibilities. It did, however, make me obsessed with any Rocky Horror information I could get my hands on.

Photo by Gene Engles

One of the first records I ever bought for myself was the film’s soundtrack, which I proceeded to wear out with infinite replays. Our family had plenty of musical soundtracks, but nothing like this. It was rock and roll, and the songs were about crazed dancing, sex, transvestism, and science fiction. I have no idea how I got away with this bit of rebellion, but I clung to it as my link to a secret world that I could not yet enter. I memorized the songs over repeated listenings, and tried to imagine what the plot of the film could possibly be. Another important purchase was the “Audience Participation” album, which was a real oddity—a recording of the film being played at the 8th Street Playhouse in Manhattan, including the audience’s interjections. It was a great way to experience the film and learn the “official” lines without going to a theater, which was good for me because it was nearly four years before I actually attended a showing.

Finally, in my junior year, thanks to my adventurous friends and the fact that I had a car, I became part of the society that I had envied for so long. Waiting in line outside the UC Theater in Berkeley CA, I was excited and nervous at once. I had no idea what to expect, other than what I had heard on vinyl. My fellow patrons slouched decorously against the side of the building, smoking cloves and comparing outfits. There were the recognizable costumes from the film, but also plenty of creative and unique looks ranging from classic goth to metal-head. Obviously this was an event where you could be whatever you wanted, without fear of attack. Slowly, we all made our way into the enormous building.

Inside, it was a madhouse of conversation and laughter as we waited for the show to start. Eventually, the cry of “Lips! Lips! Lips!” started and the film began. It was like nothing I’d experienced—a real feeling of communitas as the audience shouted at the screen and the players who were duplicating the action in real life. Toilet paper rolls soared through the air under the sixty-foot ceiling, and squirt bottles dampened us all. After the curtains closed, as my friends and I ate late-night pancakes at IHOP, all I could think about was coming back again.

I was pretty content with sitting in the audience and trading lines with my fellow Rockyites, but one night the cast manager made an announcement before the show, letting us know that anyone who was interested in joining the cast should come see her after the show. Without consciously making the decision, I found myself talking to Becky Milanio at 2 a.m. about being a member of the cast, Indecent Exposure. She asked me what part I wanted to play, and I replied that I wanted to start as one of the “Transylvanian” party guests, but that perhaps one day I could be Rocky, the doctor’s creation. With that, I was now a member of a new and weird family. The following day I attended a cast meeting and got my membership card made.

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