Twelfth Night. 01/17/03
For most Americans, New Year's Day is the end of the holiday season. But for me and my SCA friends, it is Twelfth Night.
This year the event was held on Saturday the 5th, at a hotel convention center. Sometimes it is at the Scottish Rite Temple, which is this amazing classical style building with marble columns. There's a huge auditorium with a domed ceiling and shadowy balconies, old carved wood furniture and velvet draperies. A perfect setting for a medieval coronation ceremony and feast event, where everyone wears their finest, most opulent garb. But the convention center is not bad, and it has a bar.
We drove down with Gabe, got there kinda late for the ceremonies we had been wanting to see, but we still all had a good time. Talked with people we only see every few months, ate a lot of good food (Sushi! Roast Pork! Mmmmm...) and did a bit of shopping. I bought gold Bast earrings. Lots of delightful stuff at the merchants' tables this time. Even though it is the sort of event where court ceremony is going on throughout the day, we somehow never made it to see any of that, no great loss. Court is boring.
What I pretty much look forward to about this particular event every year is the chance to wear my Twelfth Night Dress. Only once a year do I get to wear it, for we don't really go to other indoor fancy-garb events and it is quite impractical at outdoor events when we live in a tent all weekend and I spend most of the day standing around in a field. But it is the most beautiful garment -- shining lavender satin from my neckline to my toes, with a full train behind me. No extraneous stuff like lace or gilded trim or underdresses or sculpted sleeves or any other colors or fabrics. Simple, elegant and glowing, when most everyone else seems to be trying to outdo each other in how many different layers, elaborate details, beadwork, brocade/leather/velvet/satin they can put into one outfit all at once. The dress fits me snugly, as if it were made exactly to my shape, when I am at the low end of my weight fluctuation.
This year's theme was a Winter Ball sort of thing with a lot of people dressed in white, cream and blue. So I had thought of wearing a white velvet dress I had made for a previous event with a black and white theme. But that idea seemed to be going against tradition. It just wouldn't be Twelfth Night without that dress.
Steve is always wanting me to make him new garb. He has maybe a third as many outfits as I do. He loves the look of the Irish leine style, and came up with the idea of me making him a new one in white for Twelfth Night. It has wonderful blue & gold trim and the sleeves are each 2 yards of fabric, gathered into flowing pleats. He looked so good in it, with his blue kilt, his long soft hair around his shoulders, a Celtic torc around his neck. I was so proud that he was MY man and that I had conquered my laziness enough to stay up until dawn sewing the damn thing.
Wow, I have just written 4 paragraphs about clothing. Typical, really. Also typical behavior is spending so many days and nights preparing for the event that I am short on sleep and not up for much real activity once I am actually AT the event. I guess this is my excuse for not doing any bellydancing at the Twelfth Night Casbah. It was a good atmosphere this year, with the oriental rugs and wall hangings spread about a dimly lit room. A good variety of drummers, a singer, a bouzouki player. The dancers' outfits were amazing, made me want to buy more colored veils and tassels and make a fancier coin belt. The dancers were for the most part mediocre in skill, I could have blended in to the mix without feeling awkward. But I just watched, content this time to study their moves and learn a few things I would like to try.
The next event I guess will be Wargy. It is as different from Twelfth Night as can be -- Wargy usually means standing around in the rain and wind in my old cloak, watching war units of fighters tangle with each other while slogging through the mud. Steve looks forward to this event much more than I do. Maybe something about armored combat on chilly rainswept green hills appeals to the Irish Warrior in him. I am just hoping my kitty umbrella won't get turned inside out in the storm again. Maybe it won't even rain on this year's Wargy, it is beautiful weather lately. Can the sunny days hold out until early February? I shall have to go up to Mount Olympus and have a talk with Zeus about this.
