No, I’m not changing over to WordPress, even though David has. I’ve got new garb to blog in, since we went to the Bristol Renaissance Faire yesterday and I decided some new duds were in order. David already noted all of our activities yesterday. I had the beginnings of a Faire outfit, but really the best piece I had was a reversible weskit or doublet or whatever the vestlike garment is, so I added a new chemise and skirt in complementary colors. They’re nicer and better made than the original ones I got 2 years ago, so I wasn’t shopping too far above my station as a peasant; another year I’ll upgrade to a nicer, more elaborate vest or whatever it’s called. For now I’ll enjoy buying the accessories – the tankard that hangs from a hook on the belt, perhaps a feather fan, some antique keys (Mom has those at home, I just need something to hang them on… ) and perhaps next year a very jaunty brimmed hat with some feathers and maybe some period-type shoes the year after that.
It’s fun wearing “ersatz Renaissance garb” to these events, because the costumed cast-and-volunteers tend to want to interact more than if you’re in your standard Midwestern summer garb (shorts, oversized T-shirt, sport shoes). I have no problem pulling off the lingo, owing to some past experience with SCA events in the long-ago and far-away land of An Tir.
For example, owing to my willingness to go along with the big joke, I got to have a nice long chat with an actual Privy Councillor. Here he is, in his privy, obligingly sniffing the rose David had gotten for me whilst (see? See?) I was changing into my new garb. He had a Ren Faire improv schtick going, and I went as far as I could before my brain screeched to a halt and had to admit, “My lord, I got nothing.” No more funny, I was laughing too much to be able to think of any more banter.
The people-watching was as good as it’s ever been – there were a hell of a lot of pirates this year, complete with long black wigs and eyeliner, a la Jack Sparrow. And the women pirates were even more elaborately coiffed and made up. Heh. Apparently, pirates are rather political beasts these days. Vote Pirate! Arrrrgh!
We’ve talked about going more often and getting more involved in the Bristol Faire, but somehow we always lame out and go just once a season or less. A friend in California is deeply involved in a Faire there, so I know that it can be a fun (if expensive) hobby. However, I don’t have the mad seamstress skillz or inclination to make costumes, so we’ll always be off-the-rack peasants or middling artisans.
We didn’t go to any of the big entertainments – the Mud Show, Dirk and Guido – this year, but we did hear an amazing singer, Owain Phyfe. Lovely stuff, beautifully performed and played. We sat and listened, then moved on. It was a very relaxing day. Toward the end, we sat again in a cool shady grove and listened to a formal discussion of costumery and the rules of protocol and precedence by a member of the royal court, all in character and mostly serious. He mentioned the Great Chain of Being several times; this is a familiar concept to me from my English major days, most definitely from my Elizabethan Studies classes. It was a pleasant surprise to hear an old academic concept bandied about to explain all the foofaraw of the “my lords and ladies” this and “you speak above your station peasant” that. It was quite an interesting talk, with lots of details of the lords’ and ladies’ costumes explained.
I found several sites with plenty of pictures with a simple Google search, so it seems there are a lot of Faire fans out there. Being but simple peasants with delusions of yeomanry, I doubt we’ll be shelling out the ducats for noblewear anytime soon.
There were other fun encounters – never did find out who the young squires were in garb who skipped along as if on horseback with a peasant behind them making “clippity clop” noises with coconut cups, but they looked like they were just being silly in a Monty Python vein. Also, there were some maidens (some of them rather beefy ones) who were playing a game with a rope that looked at first like “crack the whip,” except that they were using the rope to surround groups of men who weren’t in garb. Heh. MAKE the mundanes play, there’s a good strategery. Another year, we were there quite late, and at the end of the day strange things start happen and odd fantastical creatures come out. There’s usually a drum jam on the green where all the main “roads” branch off, and this can get pretty wild and wooly. Demonic puppets on sticks came flying out of nowhere and up the main street, a jongleur balanced on a ball came into the middle of the dancers, and the mood definitely became “okay, you mundane types, time for you to pack up your toddlers into your mini-van dragons and leave the serious partying to the fantasticals.”
That was one of the things that made us want to experience it more as a participant.
