Every year in California, there is a big thing called Costume College. It’s a weekend where costumers, especially historical costumers, get together to dress up, geek out, and learn how to better their craft. Even though I was terrified and felt ill prepared, I signed up to go this year.

Then COVID happened.

There was that gross period of time where all of our summer plans hung in limbo while everyone dithered about what to do. The realization slowly dawned that pretty much everything had to be cancelled.

Costume College finally announced it was postponed till the following year, then an online version was planned for this year. There was a corresponding event on YouTube called CoCoVid happening the same weekend, where the CosTubers had videos about every aspect of costuming. I spent an entire day on Zoom for the online portion of Costume College. I’m still catching up on CosTube content, and I missed a lot of the online interaction around the events because it was a work weekend for me, and I just couldn’t.

I felt sad thinking that I was working rather than prancing around California in costume. I felt sad I had barely finished a costume because COVID and seven kids and chronic stress and fatigue had killed almost all of my creativity and motivation.

I didn’t understand how anyone could dress up in multiple costumes over the weekend to take photos to post… or even search through their old photos for appropriate content. It was SO depressing. Every part of it.

I worked really hard that weekend. I don’t remember anything specific, just that I came home that Saturday morning and did a face plant on my bed immediately after removing the top layer of my skin in the shower.I slept all day until 6 p.m., to the dusky light of evening. It was the night of CoCoVid’s red carpet, where costumers could use social media to show off their most incredible makes. Only I didn’t have anything. I’ve been focusing on creating a costume for a working class kind of girl.

But recently, my mom passed on a late 1700’s style costume that she used to wear for events at the school where she teaches. My dad made it for her many years ago, probably from a big four pattern. Yep, my dad made this dress. My mom wore it with a mob cap, which I really admire because it shows a commitment to accuracy. I know my own struggles with caps.

She had sent the dress to me just a few weeks before. I’d pressed it, but I hadn’t tried it on yet.

It was hot as blazes that evening. As soon as I woke up, I rolled out of bed and started pulling on 18th century layers. I grabbed one of my shifts, pulled on my stays, lacing them up wrong in my hurry, tied on a split rump – the first time wearing it in costume – added a petticoat, blue silk stockings, neckerchief, and my little ruffle cap.

I put the cap on crooked, without even a glance in the mirror on the way out the door. That detail nearly prevented me from posting about this whole affair. I know it’s silly and egotistical, so I’m posting, anyway, crooked cap and all.

I pulled the dress on, grabbed my fan, and sashayed outside for a red carpet moment in the backyard without bothering to look for a ribbon to tie my shoes. Note to self, never let perfectionism get in the way of a good time.