Today was the Jane Austen tea. My first time costuming since the Victorian Stroll. First time blogging in three months.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing, but it’s taken the form of a firehouse of grief and anger at my representatives. I haven’t had anything left for this space. But I’ve been thinking about when and how to drop back in, and here I am today, for better or worse.
When I was at the Victorian Stroll, I mentioned to my friend that I’d wanted to make a new gown for the Jane Austen Tea the following weekend. I hadn’t gotten to it, and it felt like I’d run out of time.
She casually replied something like, “Well, Regency gowns aren’t too difficult.”
Last spring, I made a quilted body warmer. It was my fifth one. I was trying to be creative with it, because you justifiably can’t make five of the same thing.*
The Victorian Strolls happened again this year. Please note the lack of enthusiasm. My spirit is weary.
I did the Saratoga Victorian Streetwalk with my family on Thursday, November 30th. The planners brought back the magical window ballerinas, in even greater numbers than last year.
When I sat down with my laptop after the costuming event I went to in order to edit pictures, I turned to the Chaplain and remarked that I could tell from my face that I’d waited till after the event for photos. I showed him what I meant in a couple of pics – In too many of them, fake smiles, a desperate glint in my eye, and blank looks stared back at me.
