A brief aside on the topic of Swishy Dancers and the Vericon Masquerade

As I've mentioned before, dancers tend to like to have some swish to their movements. I am hardly an exception to that rule --if anything, I do my best to exemplify it, every chance I get. (My skirt collection is rapidly approaching the stuff of legends)

However, at the Vericon masquerade, I decided to go in costume. A close friend and I, after assessing that we could kinda pass for eleven if one squinted, decided to go as Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres and Hermione Jean Granger, from the fantastic fanfiction Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, and specifically in the battle fatigues worn in later chapters.

(And if you're going to make fun of me for cosplaying from a fanfiction, you understand neither that I refuse to be shamed for what I enjoy, nor that HPatMoR really isn't anywhere close to your average fanfiction.)

This meant that, for the ball, I found myself in old surplus army pants, and a long sleeved camo t-shirt (later abandoned for an olive drab tank-top.) I was dressed functionally, a state I generally enjoy, but for the dance...no swish. No twirl. No satisfying motion of my clothing to accent the motion of my dance.

And then I unbraided my hair from its multiple thin braids, hoping to get some of Hermione's classic unruly poof. And oh yes. My hair poofed alright. It was downright alarming, as my hair --already thick and formidable-- managed to nearly double in volume.

As it hung in waves around my face, I found myself smirking. In slacks and a tank-top I had more swish than nearly anyone else¹ on the dance floor. I rocked out with my hair flying everywhere, restraining my motions only enough to keep my vision clear and avoid whipping any of my fellow dancers.

Having my hair down, especially having my hair down with added volume is a literal pain in the neck at a dance, especially when partners get involved and need to find a place to put their hands where they won't get tangled or lose grip. But every once in a while, for this kind of excellent single-person flailing? Screw practicality. Swishing, in any manner, just looks good.

1: I was challenged by a charming gentleman cosplaying Vim from con Guest-of-Honor Brian Sanderson's "Mistborn" book(s?). His cloak was comprised of ribbon and scraps of fabric, and seemed to be solely designed for maximum swooshiness. We wound up dancing together a couple times, partly because of how well our respective motion blur complimented each other.

Choreographing the Vericon Masquerade

Many science-fiction conventions have an event called the "Masquerade". They're basically huge costume contests, where everyone from bare novices to master-class costumers get on stage and show off the pretties that they've been working on for the last year (or more!).

Vericon¹, however, skips all the judging nonsense and so their masquerade is closer to the traditional roots of the word, a ball in which attendants are encouraged (though not required) to show up in costume or cosplay. This leads to wonderful and silly situations as four decades --or more!-- of pop-culture collide.

(As an aside, have you ever wondered how EvilSpock would react to a cute girl grinding up against him to the dulcet strains of "She Blinded Me With Science"? It's pretty entertaining, let me tell you! I only wish I had my camera out to catch his perfectly quirked eyebrow as he declared: "Science.")

So because it's a ball, it is expected that there will be dancing. And because Vericon is staffed, run, and attended by complete geeks...well...let's just say that the music can be considered eclectic at best, and the dances performed to match.

Oh sure, there's definitely a lot of happy flailing and bouncing around. Just because the songs are geekier than your average club fare doesn't mean you have to change the dancing around any --just find a strong beat and rock out. But between the flailing, maybe every third or fourth song, some spectacular geek anthem comes on, and the dance floor transfers from an incohesive throng to an impromptu performance space. Different people step up, as costumes or attitudes necessitate, and instead of just dancing, they *perform*.

One of the clearest examples is the annual production of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia". The room finds itself a circle, leaving plenty of space for Johnny and his foe to face off, miming fiddles as though their life depended on it. And at the point of the song where the demons of hell get to jump in and join their master...hoo boy, you get quite the cast of characters as anyone even *slightly* evil takes their cue.

Other songs get the star treatment too. "Walk Through the Fire" varies by year, but when it's good, it's good, with people of all costume stepping up to fill the roles of the various scoobies et al. (I got to be Spike this year!) And usually late in the evening, the DJs cue up "The Homecoming Queen's Got a Gun", which lends itself to a spectacular amount of running around screaming...at least until you get shot (at which point you get to throw yourself to the ground dramatically, which is arguably even more fun.)

The impromptu choreography is wonderful, and best of all, it lends itself to sharing, as ideas ripple across the dance floor. One person comes up with something clever, which is quickly stolen by another, or another. Some songs will lead to multiple performances, scattered across the floor --what's "Skullcrusher Mountain" with only one evil scientist after all?

My crowning victory this year was for another JoCo song. When "Re: Your Brains" came on, it took me only a few lines to realize that the logical way to "dance" was with arms outstretched, moaning the lyrics and shuffling around like a true zombie. The idea caught on like wildfire, and by the second stanza, the floor was almost entirely populated by zombies --one lone human ran around and around, giving us something to grab for.

It was wonderfully reaffirming, being in this mass of groaning humans. Sure, it was ridiculous, and in all honesty, we probably looked thoroughly uncool. But we're geeks. Most of the people in that room would probably pick fun over cool any day of the week. And being in a room of creative, kinesthetic, unashamedly silly people leads to some excellent -albeit uncool- geek choreography.

Which is probably why we could shuffle like pros during "Re: Your Brains", but not a zombie among us knew more than the fewest poses for the next undead anthem played: "Thriller". It's a great song and all, but for us?

We'd rather write our own choreographies.

1: Vericon is Harvard University's annual science-fiction convention. It seems to range from maybe two to five hundred attendees (yes, I totally guessed that number), and is currently held every year in March. I do recommend it! If nothing else, they have a fantastic dance.