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.

How to fake dressing like a Regency gentleman

I am not a costumer. I survive off hand-me-downs, "close enough", and huge amounts of advice from my friends, especially the ones who keep blogs like Historic Fancy Dress, which talks about accurate fancy clothing for all sorts of vintage eras. Largely though, I don't care what I wear to balls as long as I look accurate enough that they invite me back.

I am not wholly without vanity, however, so within that attempt for accuracy, I'd also like to look as good as I possibly can. This is especially important in Regency, where I dress and dance as a gentleman. The more accurate my costume, and the more clearly gentlemanly, the easier it is for me to pass as male, which helps everyone on the dance floor. This leads me to a frantic rush before every ball, as I try to put together an outfit that will look nice, masculine, and as period-accurate as I can fake, in between lamentations that I didn't get done that bit of sewing I really meant to a year ago, or swearing as I realize I can't find a piece I need. For Regency, at least, this is what I usually wear, from top to bottom, outer layer to inner:

(You could possibly use this as a resource for what you should wear at a Regency event (if you dress as a gent) but I would really recommend somewhere that will actually cite their sources.)

Hat: I don't actually own a period-accurate hat at all and confess to not knowing entirely what they look like. But I do own an absolutely fantastic black leather tri-corn with several feathers and flourishes, which I maintain is my persona's link back a few hundred years. More recently though, I acquired a nice felt top-hat, of the very modern variety, that I might wear to the ball this weekend. We'll see how I feel it fits. (And if it doesn't work for historical, it will certainly be appropriate for steampunk. I refuse to place goggles around the brim, however --but that's a separate rant.)

Tailcoat: I was lucky enough to inherit a not-too-inaccurate dark blue silk brocade tailcoat from a fabulous costuming and dancing friend of mine. It's one of my single favourite pieces of clothing, and one of the few things I actually bother to try and take care of. The cut is "period" though not particularly Regency, but my favourite thing about it is the colour --black wasn't exclusive for men's clothing until the eighteen forties-sixties, I believe.

Cravat: My cravat is one of the items most in need of a replacement. It's literally just an unhemmed, unfinished piece of cream/white coloured fabric about six feet long. I fold it over enough to make it look official, but something that I could properly starch and wear tightly would be wonderful. And you know, that doesn't fray.

Waistcoat: Pronounced "west-kit". Is just a vest, which would be terribly easy for me as I own several, except that I've no idea what period is for Regency waistcoats. I do have a pair of nice double breasted ones that work except for the buttons --and again, the colours are the best thing, one is navy blue, and the other salmon pink. Yum!

Shirt: A plain white men's collared shirt is pretty much mandatory¹ for this sort of outfit. Unfortunately, because of my tiny stature, I can't afford to worry about accuracy with this --it's enough of a challenge just to find one that fits. I have a couple that I rotate through, some of which are feminine-cut and all of which are thoroughly modern, but until I learn to sew, they will have to do.

Undershirt: Not strictly necessary for period purposes, but it helps smooth out everything worn under the shirt, and helps provide a solid-coloured background in case the shirt is slightly translucent. I should technically wear white, and usually do, but I have a grey Excited Victorians t-shirt by Kate Beaton, and it's very hard not to just wear that to every historical dance event I ever attend.

Everything Under the Undershirt: If I were dressing up as a male and would just be standing around looking pretty, I might go the extra step and bind my breasts. But Regency involves an awful lot of bouncing. I'm already pretty flat-chested, and generally with a good sports bra and the above layers, I get enough of the illusion to pass.

Breeches: Mine are more piratey than Regency, unfortunately, but they're black, and more or less fit, which works for me. When I go to inaccurate dances, I'm happy to wear my steampunk breeches, but they've far too many pockets to be accurate for historical balls.

Hose: Generally, I just wear tights. I've got a couple pairs, at least one of which is a nice dark blue to match my tailcoat. Hose is uninteresting, and honestly, as long as you're not using flashy designs, pretty much all period.

Shoes: I could not begin to afford properly period footwear, so I wear whichever boots have the least flash to them. It doesn't really matter, as I just change into my dance shoes almost immediately anyways. My dance shoes are classic black woman's jazz shoes, but with bright pink laces. If I care enough about accuracy, I relace them, but unless I'm feeling quite charitable towards the people in charge, I don't bother.

Assuming I counted correctly, that's two layers below the waist and four above it. This is why every gentleman at every vintage event will attempt to collapse immediately after the Bumpkin is played, it gets very warm wearing so much. If nothing else, that might be what finally drives me to dress the lady --they get bare arms and open skirts, and the ability to pull their hair up off their neck.

And yes, of course I'll include a link to a picture.

1: But not entirely --ask me to recount the story of the Regency Assembly in which I lost my shirt somewhere along the way. Thank god for using the cravat to cover up where the collar's supposed to be.

Pre-Arisia: Formal Balls and Clothing Conundrums

So, the next dance event on my calendar is Boston's best¹ annual sci-fi con, Arisia! It's the weekend of the 14th-17th, and will likely have more dancing than I can shake a stick at.

If the past years are any indication, Arisia will host at least one formal costume ball, and multiple nights of bouncing around club-type dancing. I look forward to both, with some trepidation, and due to the length of this post, I'm going to split it into two discussions.

First we'll discuss the formal ball, which is causing more trepidation and almost all from the costuming aspect. The biggest problem is whether people will come to the ball because they want to dance, or because they want to show off their costume. There's nothing at all wrong with the latter, however, if it interferes with the former, I consider myself unimpressed and displeased.

How might presentation of costume interfere with dancing? First off, and most importantly, some people arrive at a costume ball and then refuse to dance with anyone uncostumed. This is well within their right (among other reasons, I've heard cited not wanting any photographs with non-costumed dancers, or not wanting to break illusion of whatever formal theme the ball might have) but to me, it comes off as arrogant. Not everyone in attendance at the ball knows how to costume with the same skill, and not everyone in attendance will have come from a convenient enough location that they can bring a full formal set of clothing to wear. (And hell, let's be honest here, not everyone will _care_ enough to put the same sort of effort into dressing up).

This goes hand-in-hand with one of my core tenets of dancing: The point of a dance is too dance. You may disagree, but for me, anything at a dance that involves not dancing is breaking that rule, and therefore counterintuitive².

Another problem with people who come to the ball more for the costumes than the dancing is a lack of familiarity with what a dance requires, clothing-wise. Glitter, for instance, is a bad plan, unless your goal is to make every single person present sparkle. Complicated or spiky bits of costume might make it difficult for a partner to take you in a proper ballroom hold. Belt-pouches are wont to bash into legs during spins or faster dances, and if you've never danced in a corset, you'd be wise to loosen the strings first.

Of course, a lot of this particular fact depends on the types of dancing at the ball in question --if you're only doing seventeenth century minuets, your partner won't ever need to touch more than your hands, and most vintage between Regency and Ragtime is sedate enough to allow for dangling props.

Lastly, there's a personal costuming problem at convention balls. Namely, how on earth do I present myself? When I traditionally dance vintage, I do so in full formal gentleman's garb, and then dance the gent's part almost exclusively. But at conventions, I have the luxury to skip the five layers³ and break out something a little more fun --after all, most convention balls I've been to are extraordinarily lax regarding period costume, and most attendees wear something formal and fun rather than truly accurate.

That being said, I do find an advantage in wearing traditionally male garb: it helps to mark me as potentially genderqueer, and more likely to dance either role. Being accessible to new dancers is a joy, and one I try to achieve at any given ball. Still though, the full nine yards (or ten, or eleven, or twelve...) of fabric involved to be a really proper gentleman is enough to make me faint, especially in Arisia's overcrowded dance hall.

Luckily, the advent of Steampunk seems perfectly timed to solve this problem, at least. While I agree with more pedantic friends who insist that goggles and clockworks make neither steam nor punk, the pseudo-victorian aesthetic is rather lovely, and I do look stellar in earth tones. Waistcoats and collared shirts are rapidly becoming my go-to for "dressed up", and best of all, since they all fit about the same range of colours (well, except for that ludicrously excellent salmon-pink one) I find them to be extremely interchangeable.

My terrifically modern breeches, high socks, a collared shirt and a vest, and I'm perfect. Perhaps if I'm really putting in the effort, a pair of goggles to hold back my hair, and my lovely wind-up pocketwatch. I'm suddenly perfect for every con across the next year, and best of all, it's very easy to dance in. For a non-costumer, it's the perfect compromise for the conundrum of "costume balls" --everything I'm wearing remains in rotation as street clothes, but the combination is outlandish enough to avoid all but the haughtiest sneers.

Clothing conundrum? Solved. Now, to figure out how to get one of those TARDIS thingys I hear so much about, so I can actually make it to all the programming at Arisia I want...

1: I can't actually say this --I'm told Boscon is quite good, and I have friends who work ReaderCon. But Arisia, I believe, has far and away the best dance events. By the terms of this blog, that makes it the best.

2: This is a big part of why I'm ambidancetrous --because that way, so long as there are an even number of people in the hall, I can dance. I will happily dance with anyone, regardless of gender, role, or skill level, since sitting out and watching other people dance is a waste of my time.

3: Sturdy sports bra, to get a binding effect, t-shirt, collared shirt, waistcoat, tailcoat.