And they all said, “No.”

Fortunately, I’m a modern woman, living in a modern time. I traverse borders without fear! I go to the bathroom by myself! I sit at restaurants alone and order what I will! That is the genius of the emancipation of women from the veil! From the corset!

 Although, there were a lot of corsets being worn at the Renaissance Faire. And (wait for it people): Boobs.  Dear god! There were so many boobs uncomfortably pushed up to unnatural altitudes that I was afeared they would pop, fall out, spill over or jiggle unto death! Ok. That’s all I have to say about that.

So I went to the Renaissance Faire this weekend. It twas my first gentle readers, but I am determined that it shall not be my last. I had a merry time wandering among booths, minstrels, rat sellers and other persons of Renaissance-type backgrounds.

Now certain L.A.ians might be thinking, dude. We have a Ren Faire?

Oh yes! This magnificent gala of lords, ladies, peasantry, pirates and ladies of negotiable affections occurs yearly in Irwindale.

Irwindale?!

Oh yes!

“But pray,” gentle native readers ask, “where is Irwindale?”

Think of L.A. as the world. Oh wait, I did this metaphor before, but it is so very apt! To the north, you shall find desert, valleys and suburbs. To the west, you shall find beaches, hippies and bohemians. To the south, you shall find beaches, hippies, bohemians and soccer moms! To the east, you shall find Irwindale, population of approx 1500.

Eastern L.A. is best summed up by Pasadena: green and suburban. You drive toward the rising sun and there is none of this “movie L.A.” that international audiences know best. Perhaps this is why it’s the best place to have a Ren Faire. There is open space for die-hard Ren Faire folk to spread out and infiltrate every crevice until….there is nothing left!

By the way, it was a very hot day, and yes, I did ask the Faire Folk whether they were wearing the proper number of undergarments. Some: yes. Others: no.

So I arrived, was greeted and entered the Faire. I attended some very fun shows where the players assured the audience that they made a living from these theatrics. There were wenches singing bawdy songs, more wenches singing bawdy songs and some men doing plays about bawdy things. Really though, they weren’t that bawdy. Maybe it’s because I’m literary because I’ve blushed at much dirtier things in great classics….or on British TV.

Anyhoo. I give you pictures! Thus, my blog now offers multiple forms of media!

 Pictures to come while I figure out how to upload them.