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kyburgI'm not a Ren Faire person. I go, I eat, I spend money and I go home.
Just about every time. Oh, and covet the ability to carry a tune unaided, come up with witty comebacks at a moment's notice, find other people of like talents and be able to perform (saw a group of 9 girls who danced to the sounds of their own drumming - nothing more - arabic discipline - perfect costumes and some of the prettiest tattooing on the lumbar curve I've ever seen), be competent in something truly gorgeous and anacronistic like glass-blowing (he's giving classes in Orange County soon! Huzzah!) or just be dressed in something close to period.
Well, the last thing I took care of today. From today, I have Faire clothes.
I can sew. I can sew very well. However, for oh...11 years? I've been saying I won't buy what I can build myself.
Fuck that. I give up. I'm sick of waiting for time and energy I won't get.
I have two skirts, both full and twirly and made of cotton gauze. I have a blouse in creamy gauze to match.
And the bodice. Oh, my. I wasn't aware I'd be so hard to fit. Too small, too long-waisted. Small, well, I guess. I have no tits. I got through high school without growing tits.
However, when you are talking a lace-up bodice, the rules change.
Oh, I'm fine. It's comfortable, sure. Sit very straight. No deep breaths or running around.
And gorgeous.
Creamy tapestry print with the primary colors being rose, blue, violet and purple. With my straw hat and Skechers clogs, I was the bell of the day.
Jim had his cape, his Skechers boots-from-hell and the hat from last year - he rocked.
Went for 3.5 hours and came home, undressed and died. I feel like I've just done a four day trade show - my feet are hamburger and I'm dehydrated and weary.
Snagged a real pretty, though. A ruby glass paperweight that will go so well in my cubie with the window at work!
Next weekend - Tennessee. Oh joy.
Just about every time. Oh, and covet the ability to carry a tune unaided, come up with witty comebacks at a moment's notice, find other people of like talents and be able to perform (saw a group of 9 girls who danced to the sounds of their own drumming - nothing more - arabic discipline - perfect costumes and some of the prettiest tattooing on the lumbar curve I've ever seen), be competent in something truly gorgeous and anacronistic like glass-blowing (he's giving classes in Orange County soon! Huzzah!) or just be dressed in something close to period.
Well, the last thing I took care of today. From today, I have Faire clothes.
I can sew. I can sew very well. However, for oh...11 years? I've been saying I won't buy what I can build myself.
Fuck that. I give up. I'm sick of waiting for time and energy I won't get.
I have two skirts, both full and twirly and made of cotton gauze. I have a blouse in creamy gauze to match.
And the bodice. Oh, my. I wasn't aware I'd be so hard to fit. Too small, too long-waisted. Small, well, I guess. I have no tits. I got through high school without growing tits.
However, when you are talking a lace-up bodice, the rules change.
Oh, I'm fine. It's comfortable, sure. Sit very straight. No deep breaths or running around.
And gorgeous.
Creamy tapestry print with the primary colors being rose, blue, violet and purple. With my straw hat and Skechers clogs, I was the bell of the day.
Jim had his cape, his Skechers boots-from-hell and the hat from last year - he rocked.
Went for 3.5 hours and came home, undressed and died. I feel like I've just done a four day trade show - my feet are hamburger and I'm dehydrated and weary.
Snagged a real pretty, though. A ruby glass paperweight that will go so well in my cubie with the window at work!
Next weekend - Tennessee. Oh joy.
