What Happens at Ren Faire, Stays at Ren Faire

I didn’t grow up a Ren Faire Brat as my friend Dana did. I’d see people in their jester garbs or wench outfits at Omelet  Parlor  - filling their bellies for a day of Meade and beer drinking and feel slightly jealous about their courage to drop into character wearing some outrageous costume.You've got to Google 'Ren Faire images' for the full spectrum!My first year to the Southern California Renaissance Pleasure Faire, I was so self-conscious. Putting on fake eyelashes and painting swirls on your cheeks with liquid eyeliner and sprinkling on faerie dust seems a little overdone when you’re in your bathroom at home. But when you show up, done up like a circus star, you fit in perfectly!Dana and I went as matching faeries the first year. I was even asked to tie on a blue ribbon for a young buck to prove he was wearing his kilt properly. That was quite the initiation!The second year, Dana and I each took three colors of 50 foot ribbon and braided them together to make a long rope.  We handed the ropes to our friend and designated driver Joi, so that she could drag our friendly, easily-distracted selves out of faire when it was time to head home.In the beginning I took my sons. I would find a discreet ensemble and off we’d go to let them throw tomatoes at the heckler, practice archery or sword fight.  One year we got in line to get a drink and a young man came up to me with one of those fraternity paddles. “Would you like a spanking, mi’lady?” he asked.  I replied coyly, “Not in front of the urchins. It scares them so.” He blushed and I knew I had made the club.The following year, I went on to audaciously tease and flirt with the puritans, many of whom I know to be raging pagans.This year it’s just a girls’ trip.Next week  I’ll wear Roxanna’s knockout red leather corset. sigh...I’m looking forward to the time with my friends.. and as the saying goes…what happens at Ren Faire, stays at Ren Faire.