Philly Fringe 2026: Corps de Ballet PHL presents Dancing in Yesterday’s Stage Makeup

After a big show, there is nothing dancers like better than to go out dancing til the wee hours of the morning, and Yesterday’s Makeup gives us the afterparty. Rosemary Pendergast was first to the party, stumbling onto a small set with a sofa and coffee table arranged off to the side to convey the tight space of a dancer’s apartment. She kicks off her shoes and her coat and grabs a champagne bottle while the other four dancers pile in. The group moves to the larger dance floor then, where bright yellow festoons drape the windows and an identical couch at the back lets us know it’s the same imaginary space. That sofa takes a major supporting role: dancers fall onto it singly or in a heap, and even stand on top of it. (No set designer is credited.)

Dancers choreographed their own solos and designed their own costumes, but with a cohesive theme. They begin in short black skirts over dance shorts, but with a nod to different periods in history: an Elizabethan ruff, a lacy jabot, an ascot. It isn’t clear what the neckwear signifies, or how the dance that follows, set to the upbeat “Sea Within a Sea”, fits that theme, but the dance is lovely; the dancers move across the floor in unison, with supple backs and flowing arms. When they break apart the real fun begins, with hints of social dances—the frug, the twist, the pony—tucked into the formal movement.

Casey Prammanasudh is a highlight of the evening. Her solo to Mitski’s “Nobody” beautifully conveys such loneliness that even her split seems like she is bowed down by sorrow. While she dances, the Corps don flowing skirts and lose the neckwear. They surround her, offering support as she centers their dance until, returning to that all-important sofa, she dons her own skirt. But it is not all sorrow. Dancers circle each other with upraised Solo cups and in a fun bit reminiscent of many classical ballets, the group links crossed arms and untwists with their arms over their heads, weaving in and out between each other.

Each dancer has her moment, but Pendergrast really holds the show together. Whether greeting the “guests” or filling solo cups with champagne (to Suzanne’s “Champagne”) or tossing the dancers out on their ears after they fall asleep in a heap on that couch, she leads us through the story-line with verve.

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