When I was 12 my family moved to Agoura, California. Little did we know at the time Agoura was home to the original Renaissance Pleasure Faire born in 1968 by Ron and Phyllis Patterson.
Now I was a girl who had moved 9 times in 12 years and my way to cope with the upheaval and change was to hang on to whatever constants I could. My constants happened to be Wrigleys Spearmint Gum (about 2 packs a day but thats another story) and old movies. My favorite old movies were the kind where the women wore beautiful long gowns and the men were gentlemen. Swashbucklers, royalty, peasants, lords and ladies - I loved them all and thought that someday I'd major in history and be immersed in the seemingly wonderful people who wore those fabulous clothes.
Then the Faire came to town.
I know Renaissance festivals are kind of a joke now, a place for the SCA fanatics to gather and beer drinking tourists to shop their heads off for crafts and drool all over cleavage; but at the time all I could see was those clothes! those wonderful clothes! Lords! Ladies! Peasants! A Queen!!!! I had to be a part of it. My sister and I begged our parents to let us become flower sellers.
Dad took us to our first day of workshops, where we would learn how to talk, how to dress, a little history of England and who was who in the faire front office. He shook hands with a few people, made sure we were well supervised (ha! sorry dad) and left us for the day. Over the next 9 weeks with workshops and then the run of the faire Sis and I were in heaven.
We worked at the Faire in many capacities over the next ten years. I started off as a "boothie" (salesgirl) with my sister but soon found my niche in the performing arts department. I apprenticed in the costume department, acted on stage and later directed a play, finally I became head of overnight camping and issued camping permits and helped patrol overnight to be sure everyone who was there was supposed to be there (people who work at the faire had to have a permit to be there after 7 PM - everyone else was tossed out on their hiney). People knew me as "Kampin Katie" and I worked at both Northern and Southern California faires (the two that were then owned by the non-profit Living History Centre - now owned by the for-profit Renaissance Entertainment Corporation).
I had my first beer, my first gin and tonic (still my drink of choice), my first kiss from a real crush, my first chance to wiggle out of a sticky situation, and my first puff of the you-know-what. I wore the costumes of the English peasants and nobility, the Irish, the Italians and the seafarers. I learned the timing of the Comedia Del 'Arte, the beauty of a friend who holds your hair back while you puke toad in the hole, the value of a well-fitted bodice, and that guys named "Red Dog" are best avoided. I grew up.
Finally in 1992 I worked my last faire.
I left it behind in the way that you leave high school. I had a great experience and learned a lot over those years, but it was time to move on, and I did. I worked in Hollywood for a time, went back to school and became a Preschool Teacher, got married, had two kids - had a wonderful regular life that I treasure.
Last December I visited the Dickens Christmas Faire in San Francisco, which is owned by the same people that started the old faire back in the day. I returned to people yelling across crowds "Look, It's Kampin Katie!" and warm hugs from costumed old friends. Many who work at the faire are hippies or wanderers (some are hard core "carnies") they form a rag-tag family of sorts and I couldn't believe how many were still there after all these years.
I turned a corner and there he was, the old man of the faire. He has been there for a time spanning 3 decades - mostly playing Sir Francis Drake with the gusto and presence few possess but is a thing of wonder to behold. He saw me and stopped. "Well Katie, there you are." He stretched his arms and I obliged with a warm hug. "Welcome home." he whispered.
Shudder. It felt as if all the blood had run from my extremities and I couldn't spit out the usual pleasantries fast enough. I had to get away. I had to get home and be with my husband and babies and cook something and clean something and DEFINITELY take a shower and clean the smell of old patchouli off of my skin.
and that is what I did.