SAN FRANCISCO — After the one-year-old’s birthday party last Saturday, I had tickets to Peter Nachtrieb‘s play Litter at the Zeum theater (yes near the carousel at Yerba Buena, I didn’t know there was a theater there either!). I felt like being a bit grown up sartorially since I’d dressed for a small child earlier in the day. The result was skinny jeans, a velvet jacket, and my sky-high Acne platform booties. The beautiful thing was that there was parking nearby, so I barely had to walk in those babies.
Regarding the play, I thought the beginning and the end were funny. There were some patches in between that I hate to say became somewhat tedious. But don’t listen to me, I’m totally not qualified to opine about such things. For a review from a real theater critic, check out this write up at SFGate, which gives “Litter” the little man watching attentively. One thing I’m slightly more qualified to comment on is the subject matter for three reasons: I am adopted, I underwent fertility treatments, and I wrote about reproductive technology at Wired.com for several years. It turns out the “litter” is one of humans thanks to a fertility experiment gone wrong. The result is 12 siblings (the Framingham Dodecatuplets) who are now 18 and experiencing some angst. Early in the play, they discover [SPOILER ALERT!] that they are not actually genetically related. This results in [AGAIN, SPOILER ALERT!] two of them embarking on a romantic relationship, which to me as an adopted person was intolerably gross, despite being an only child. There is, however, [ONE MORE SPOILER ALERT!] a heartwarming reunion at the end, which bolstered my belief that you don’t have to share DNA to be family.
That got surprisingly deep for an outfit post, no?