Nun Costume Quotes

I have two sisters, and I tell them this all the time. Be the marriage girl. Don’t be the hook-up girl. Don’t be her. She’s stupid and shallow. Yes, she gets lots of male attention, dressing in her sexy lumberjack or sexy nun costumes…for a time. But then she’s used up, hardened, disillusioned and desperate, because no one stays with the hook-up girl.

The two sisters wouldn’t sleep with me. But it’s cool, because they were nuns, and I didn’t have my clerical costume on.

Ironically groups of nuns or lesbians are often mistaken for one another today, since we often travel in female packs oblivious to male attention or needs. Eschewing the cosmetics and costumes of the commercially promoted feminine mystique, both nuns and lesbians are emotionally inaccessible to male coercion. Time and energy which heterosexual women devote to catering to men can be focused on private or communal projects. Despite similarities, a male-defined culture which moralizes about "sins of the flesh" and the pollution and evil of women's carnal desires sees both nuns and lesbians as "unnatural" but at opposite poles on a scale of female virtue.

Presidia, you fool,” Dee shouted at the nun, dragging the arrow backward with her high heel. Luce leaned down to pick it up and slipped it inside the satchel. “You know that won’t hurt me! Now you’ve annoyed my friends.” She gestured broadly at the angels darting forward to disarm the costumed Elders. “Stand down, defector!” Presidia replied. “We require the girl! Surrender her and we will-“ But Presidia never finished. Arriane was at the Elder’s back in a flash, brushing the veil from her head, taking her white hair in her fists. “Because I respect my Elders,” Arriane hissed through her clenched teeth, “I feel I must prevent them from embarrassing themselves.” Then she lifted off the ground, still holding Presidia by the air. The Elder kicked the air as if pedaling an invisible bicycle. Arriane pivoted and slammed the old woman’s body into the cornice of the church’s façade with such force it left an indention when she collapsed in a twisted heap, hands and legs sticking out at grisly angles.

Be the marriage girl. Don’t be the hook-up girl. Don’t be her. She’s stupid and shallow. Yes, she gets lots of male attention, dressing in her sexy lumberjack or sexy nun costumes…for a time. But then she’s used up, hardened, disillusioned and desperate, because no one stays with the hook-up girl.

Tony glanced over at Jade’s expression and laid a hand on his shoulder. “All right. This nun gets into a cab, and the cabdriver asks her what’s up with the celibacy vow thing, right? So the nun says, ‘Well, maybe I’d consider having an affair, but the man would have to be Catholic, unmarried, and not have any children.’ So the cabbie says, ‘Well that describes me perfectly. Why don’t you come on up here?’ And the nun goes in the front seat and gives him a blow job.” “That was quick.” “Indeed. So she finishes up and the guy starts laughing, and she asks him, ‘What’s so funny?’ And he says, ‘Well, I’m Protestant, and I’m married with two kids.’ And the nun looks at him for a moment, then shrugs and says, ‘Well, that’s okay, my name’s Fred and I’m on my way to a costume party.’ 

Sister Act opened in the large Broadway Theatre on April 20, 2011, to mostly favorable reviews. Critics agreed that Goldberg’s absence was a detriment and that Miller was no comedienne but she had the pipes and the energy to carry the musical. Also applauded were the vivacious score, the fine supporting cast, and the flashy costumes by Lez Brotherston. The naysayers pointed out the weaknesses in the script, how many of the crass jokes fail to land, and the way the nuns were turned into stereotyped diva wannabes. But for the most part, the reviews were encouraging and Sister Act ran well over a year.

To celebrate the opening of Angelo’s café, we were invited to come in disguise. It was difficult to find odds and ends to make costumes out of, in the empty castle, with a wardrobe out of a valise intended for minimum necessities. There were no curtains, no draperies, no paints, no textiles. We did the best we could. I dressed John’s wife: from the waist up she was a nun, in brown chiffon, with a cross on her breast. Below was the same chiffon, trailing to the floor, but without a slip underneath, so her legs could be seen in silhouette.