Yesterday Mommy Daughter Culture Day turned into Family Culture Day when Dad tagged along and we all went to the Renaissance Pleasure Faire in Irwindale.
Ok, let me say this to start with:
Going to a Renaissance Faire, seeing Queen Elizabeth traipsing around in her finery, and the knights in their armor, in the middle of the desert when it's 90 degrees and the sun is beating down on you - well, it's just weird (even if it is the oldest one in the country)
But Renaissance Faire's are, by their very nature, weird.
You get a bunch of creative types together, who are all geeky into various things that could be cataloged in the "Renaissance" drawer, throw some modern-bawdy-Shakespeare into the mix, and make someone Queen Elizabeth, and you've got a recipe for weirdness.
I spent the day being snarky and pointing out that dressing in RPG video game types of costumes wasn't Renaissance. Someone was playing a harpsichord, and I had to point out that it wasn't actually invented in the Renaissance.
It seems kind of like the Renaissance Faire is a summer stand in for Halloween. You dress up like a freak, you act goofy, and it's not supposed to actually be authentic.
But I'm a stickler for authenticity. Which means that, as much as I love it, I will never actually be at home in a Renaissance Faire. I pick on the accents (why is a Lady in Waiting speaking like she's from Truro? Surely she would have lost that by now). I pick on the clothes (I see zippers!). I pick on the music (trying to Celtic-ize pop music and call it "Renaissance" does not work for me).
So why do I even go?
Maybe I wish I could be that carefree. That blatantly disregarding of rules. And just have that much fun without caring that I'm wearing zippers. I mean, who cares, right? Do I want Hannah to grow up being so rigid? I hope I can let some of the German-ness out of me. Going to Renaissance Faire's are a good practice for that.