The modern Renaissance festival dates back to the mid-1960s, when a Southern California high school teacher named Phyllis Patterson and her husband Ron organized the Renaissance Pleasure Faire in North Hollywood. About 3,000 people showed up to eat giant turkey legs, drink ale, and watch swordplay and other ostensibly pleasurable Renaissance-y pursuits. Later it was moved to Irwindale, a small town about 10 miles east of Pasadena, where it continues to this day.
Ren faires in Texas began in 1974 with The Texas Renaissance Festival, anchored by a re-creation of a 16th-century English village across 55 acres in Plantersville, about 50 miles north of Houston. Plantersville’s official population is currently about 220, but it balloons a thousandfold when the faire’s in town. Every season attracts upward of 400,000 souls, and while they’re not all there at the same time, that’s a lot of people camping out for a couple of months.
At least Plantersville’s faire happens in October and November. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that most ren faire staffers are eccentric in some way, but you’d have to be insane to camp anywhere near Houston during the spring or summer.
Scarborough Faire, now celebrating its 35th year and undoubtedly inspired by Plantersville’s popularity, started in 1981. The faire still sits in its original spot in Waxahachie, the same 35 acres that during the fall becomes Screams Halloween Theme Park. While not as large as its forebear, Scarborough Faire has the same historical setting, circa the latter years of Henry VIII. Even if you don’t bother reading up on the festival before you go, you can guess the time period by simply gazing upon the king. He’s a fat, bearded, middle-aged white guy, visible during the daily parade that winds through the grounds, as well atop the entrance’s castle wall, where, at the close of each festival day, he gives an impassioned fare-thee-well speech, though I’m not sure which of his wives is at his side.
The era, of course, is flexible. If you’re a stickler for history, Henry VIII’s reign wasn’t a super-fun time to live in England. By contrast, many other ren faires across the country celebrate the Elizabethan period, a far sunnier social, political, and socio-political clime. England was prosperous, Shakespeare was delivering his greatest hits, and the queen’s best friends were state-sanctioned pirates. During both trips to Scarborough Faire, I sort of listened in for historical purists, but I think they’re far fewer than the people who are pretty casual about authenticity.
As it happened, last Sunday was the tail-end of Fantasy Weekend, during which people are actively encouraged to wear whatever costumes they want. This basically means you’ll see more elves than usual. You’re also likely to see some ninjas and an uptick in steampunk lovers, plus a few folks who look like anime characters. Oh, and stormtroopers.
I didn’t see them, but on the day before the world’s unofficial Stars Wars Day (“May the fourth be with you”), members of the Star Garrison, the North Texas unit of the 501st Legion, were encouraged to assemble at Scarborough Faire for Kilted Trooper Day. The 501st is an international society of Star Wars fans who adhere to strict, canonical costume details and make charity appearances. Membership requires precisely recreating and maintaining the fashion from the film franchise, which makes them the most authentic group (as weird as that sounds) at the faire. It also means their white plastic (or plasteel, if you’re a persnickety Star Wars nerd) armor is a strident contrast to pretty much every other costume in Waxahachie. I can buy the people dressed up in steampunk stuff as being on some kind of Jules Verne-ian time-travel adventure. I can even get behind dressing like you’re an away-team member from Star Trek: The Next Generation –– you can explain your existence as part of a recreational adventure in the Enterprise’s holodeck (obviously). The stormtroopers, however, seem to be here merely because they have cool costumes. I know it’s all in fun and that these dudes dress up like that for good causes, but they still bug me a little. I wonder if anyone is turned away for dressing out-of-era on a non-fantasy weekend. Maybe I’m a ren faire purist at heart?
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