Posted on a wall in Sarah Sophie’s boudoir is a Johann Wolfgang von Goethe quote that hints at her depth and sense of community responsibility: “We are all our own demons and we expel ourselves from our own paradises.” In the middle of her utopian room in a Tribeca loft, the mother of two seeks artistic refuge while floating in a lyra, wearing a silk romper with a turban.There are no overt signs of turmoil or the former college feminist who dated a member of Metallica. Baskets are filled with ballet slippers and pointe shoes, the walls are lined with tulle and silk dresses and memorabilia abounds with excerpts of her life as a mother, wife, ballet dancer, theater buff and now director and producer of The Citizens Band, a political theater group that, second to Sarah Sophie’s two young children and husband, is a burning passion. A zealous take-charger, Sarah Sophie says, “It is better to say I am suffering than it is to say the landscape is ugly…. It is so important to be creative, feel satisfied and fulfilled.”
The cabaret group was founded with Georgie Douglas of the band Stone Fox, whom Sarah Sophie thought was the most dazzling person she had ever seen when they first met at Georgie’s former workplace, the thrift store Wasteland in San Francisco – Sarah Sophie grew up there once she left Copenhagen as a child. It’s evident that Sarah Sophie was highly attuned to the power of the material manifestation of beauty as the antidote to negativity in the world even at a young age. She recalls, “I was four when I dreamt that Dorothy’s ruby slippers were in my closet and when I woke up, they weren’t there. It was shattering.” Through live performance with The Citizens Band, Sarah Sophie is driven to bring awareness to the dark side of our historical political and social patterns. By inventing her own fantastically theatrical Never Never land that exists somewhere between 1880 and 1943, Sarah Sophie uses the music of the past to reveal the problems of today, like using a Depression-era song to elucidate our current economic problems.
Sarah Sophie celebrates the victory inherent in collaborations not only with The Citizens Band – an eclectic group of fellow artists from fashion, art, music, dance and the circus arts – but with everything in life, from her profound dedication to being a genuine role model to her kids, to her aerial dance and what she wears. Her typical wardrobe consists of clothes from the designers who make the costumes for her shows, like a jumper from Electric Feathers, vintage showgirl things that speak to her obsession with the stage, clogs in tribute to her Danish heritage or understated, one of a kind Victorian and Georgian jewelry that she collects. A fascination with the otherworldly can be seen in her Vena Cava floor length dress with gold embroidery of the moon and the stars. Sarah Sophie favors extremity in hemlines, à la her correlating mini rompers and white babydoll frock that show off her gamine legs and help her to maintain an allure while her primary job is mom.
Sarah Sophie’s earliest memories are of Copenhagen jazz clubs where her parents first met, which sheds light on her ethereal glamour that she describes as not too fancy. Her visual expression “has to have a layer of dirt or look like it was hit by a truck,” like her signature dance shoes, both old and new, that have the character of a dancer from a bygone era and seem to present a possibly happy ending to her childhood nightmare of the missing ruby slippers. Precious but imperfect, it is almost as if Sarah Sophie’s clothes are the visual display of her own psyche, as is exposed in her Vulnerability Manifesto, which was written when she made a film called Kill Your Darlings, about heartbreak during a time when her now husband had broken up with her. Refreshingly real, Sarah Sophie walks the walk with one leg kicking high up into the air when she says, “We have to be open and vulnerable with everything we do” in order to be triumphant.