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aumentouSo... we went to this goth do on the coast, and now my brain needs to expel things so that it can start functioning normally again.
So, we did a lot of sewing before the do. This meant that on Thursday I was already knackered. We set off at half one, maybe two, Morecake, Sycorax, and I. There was sewing in the car - a red hobble-skirt that goes with the red taffeta jacket I made for that steampunk party.
We got there in reasonable time, found the hotel without difficulty (the Saxonville, just round the corner from the Met. I recommend it), and then ambled into town for food. This first time we took a somewhat circuitous route (I'd only been this side of the river long enough to find a takeaway before, having only been in town for a medieval do, and the others haven't been for a long while and were rusty on their geography), but ended up in a pub with food and it was all fine. We left the pub separately - I wanted cash and needed to get changed, so I left earlier, while the others wanted to find Laughtons and check the dress level.
The evening saw us in Laughtons. The place is a reasonable little club. One big room, with an upstairs floor that's cut through around the dancefloor allowing you to watch. Three bars, technically, one set of toilets (that smelled funny). Not particularly manky compared with the Corp, but hardly pristine.
So, Thursday was random day at Laughtons. Upstairs was shut, music was eclectic. I had a dress that looked kind of like sci-fi armour. It was fun, but I lost an earring to violent head movements. Note to self: do not wear hook earrings while dancing.
-----------------
The hotel serves breakfast until half nine. This means getting up early even on hangover days. We got up on Friday, had the breakfast, and schemed. Or more reasonably "planned", since we're all grown up and respectable now. The daytime event was sewing plus shopping. So we hit the bring and buy (me in black-and-gold daytime wear), which was great. We all came away with nice things - I got a teal and black patterned corset, with fluffy trim. Gorgeous.
The evening was a steampunk nght, principally. There was a variety show at the Rifle Club. This was a bit odd for me, because when we got there (Morecake as a zeppelin and time machine pilot, me as her wife in a red dress the size of a house, and Sycorax as someone who just looked really good) I discovered that the guy running the thing was tinker John... who I last saw doing historical re-enactment work, back in pre-transition days. I don't know whether he didn't recognise me, or whether he just decided to ignore me, but either way it was a little awkward. The show itself was a bit off - some quite casual racism in a play just stopped it being funny. It also left me a bit worried about steampunk in general - is it possible to do this without being jingoistically pro-empire? Clearly yes, but not clearly yes as part of what we might call "the scene". Also, the singing double act was, well... she could sing but he couldn't. I'm not saying I could put on or arrange a better gig - especially given the constraints of the theme - but I'm sure there is someone in Sheffield that could, because I've seen better here.
There's always a military theme with John. It's built into him and how he works, and I find it slightly disturbing. I'm not a giant hippy. I know we need armed forces, I'm even convinced we need nuclear weapons (but don't start on the new trident thing. I'm not convinced by that at all). But I have this problem: if I ever deliberately kill anyone, I want it to be because I know they deserve it (where deserve it includes self-defense and a host of other reasons). This precludes me joining the armed forces, because joining the forces includes within it the statement that you are prepared to kill on someone elses orders - i.e. you are prepared to kill without checking for yourself that it's justified. I don't trust people generally (and British officers specifically) enough to take their word for it that someone else deserves to die. I also don't really trust people who do - it's a fundamental philosophical difference that makes me twitchy. On the other hand, military types do tend to be collectivists - they are used to working as a group to achieve a non-personal cause - and that sits well with me. Just to make things more complicated though, military types tend to exhibit various isms and phobias that make me twitchy too.
Anyway, the length of that paragraph should give you some insight into how strange it is being around military types, and how odd it makes me feel, and how odd it is to find an event with the word "punk" in it being run by one.
After the steampunk thing we ambled around a bit and ended up in a club night where the bring and buy had been. I was utterly knackered, so I went home very soon. Frankly, I should have gone home straight after the steampunk, but bad decisions happen.
------------------
Saturday was bazaar day. We had breakfast, and then I slept late because I was knackered (a theme in this holiday). The bazaar had lots of interesting stalls with nice things, but I didn't buy any because I was poor, and because... well... anything I really wanted I could have made myself.
I need to talk about this thing, and this might be a good space for it. When I do re-enactment gigs, there's this sense of cameraderie. You're wearing silly outfits and doing something together. Even with people you don't know, you're still part of one team. You get the same hting with metal festivals, apparently. You get it with LARP too. I'd been observing for the weekend, and by Saturday I was certain. It wasn't there in any significant quantity at Whitby in the daytime. I don't know why. Maybe it was me. Maybe my clothes marked me out as something other. Or maybe it's just not the culture - at least before the drinking starts. But either way, I got the stranger-in-town vibe in all the daytime excursions, and this one most of all.
Cue drama.
For the early evening, Morecake and I went out in special outfits - a gold frock coat with hat, cane, britches, etc, and for me a big green taffeta and velvet gown (I knew if I hung on to those green velvet gloves I'd need them some day). This prompted a comment from one local of "are they real?", which made morecake happy. We had a drink in the Elsinore, which didn't taste soapy (apparently this is odd?). And then we decided to come home, because said outfits don't go well with clubs.
For the late evening, we ambled of to Laughtons again (another theme) for some bands. I had a mostly-black outfit with a short skirt and a bag of UV accessories that I did not use in the end. We caught the last three names from this gig, which is to say Ulterior, Grooving in Green, and the O Children. Also, the March Violets were playing, which meant nothing to me then, but apparently some people think this is exciting.
It might not be wort hanything for a non-goth to provide a music review, but I will anyway. Once upon a time I thought fifties rock and roll was shit. Then I heard some live and suddenly I knew what the point was: the pounding pounding bass was a live thing in and of itself, with the tunes and the songs just decoration for its hypnotic rhythm. Ulterior managed to do the same sort of thing for me. I'm utterly convinced I would be bored by their albums, because I can't remember a single tune or lyric, but if I could hear them in a club I'd feel the urge to dance, because the fascinating bass is rather compelling. They did however come across (and bear in mind this is a personal impression from a flawed human being) as being full of themselves.
Grooving in Green came across as having a sense of humour. Also the singer was pretty, and actually had some presence (once he took his damn shades off). Unfortuantely they sounded like, well, scratchy mid eighties goth. If Faster Pussycat would have been goth and rather blander, then bosh, that's what you'd have got. Nothing exciting about it.
The March Violets have apparently not done a gig in 25 years. As far as I can see it this means they've gone from cutting-edge to retro-kitsch without ever being (publicly) old and naff. I think the point of the band was to take advantage of the latest advances in drum machine and synth technology to create a very artificial sound featuring punchy aggressive female vocals and more mellow male vocals (which is an interesting inversion of the usual norm). Unfortunately, that was the early eighties, and they still sound like that because they haven't changed. Good at it, maybe. Interesting, yes. Historically interesting, even. Pioneers in their time, perhaps - I don't know. But very distinctively in-period, and that period was twenty-five years ago. It might be interesting to watch what they do next and see if they do something new or just act as a sort of historical re-enactment of themselves. Hey, it works for Status Quo.
The O Childrens singer is very tall. I mention this because after the first song he said, out loud and over his mike, that he wasn't going to do anything until he got a longer mike stand. Now, to be fair, he is very tall, and the mike stand probably wasn't comfortable, and he didn't actually carry out this threat. But on the other hand, the words "hideously unprofessional" are appropriate. Musically I should say that they sounded like a bunch of goths - kind of dreary. There wasn't anything exciting about them and I don't understand why these were the headline act. Presumably there is a point ot them, but I missed it or it missed me.
Finally hats off to the sound engineer. Not because he's good at his job - no, hats off to him because normally people who are that crap get sacked. Jesus, but his sweet-talking and excuses must be good.
----------------
Sunday was another three-phase day. Phase one was more shopping - the leisure centre had stalls too, and to my mind more interesting ones than the Spa. I had my new corset, a Velda Lauder skirt, and a long sleeved top. The stalls seemed more varied - there were steampunky bits, and Licorish Latex, and Velda Lauder (who recognised her skirt and tried to sell me a matching jacket I couldn't afford), and just more randomness. I picked up a bunch of CDs (and now officially own exactly one actual goth album. There you go, one album's weight to the claim I'm a goth... I've got more ABBA, for christs sake), and got a replacement sword from Eldritch (some LARP guys who didn't send me a sword when I bought it three years ago). As an aside I should mention that they seem nice and their stuff is nice, but when things go wrong they really go wrong. Anyway, this did mean posing with a silly foam sword ensued.
The others went to the football (which Team Goth lost, apparently), but I went home to change for phase 2. There was a lolita themed tea party I wanted to get to. So I put on a cute little green dress and ribbons, and got over there. The "event"... well, didn't deserve that name. I don't know what was supposed to happen, exactly, but I got there (and Morecake and Sycorax arrived shortly after), and nobody was in charge, and nobody introduced themselves or anything like a plan, so basically we were sat in a tea shop with nothing going on. I don't know what that was about, and I don't want to be nasty because hey, maybe the organiser had a fatal crimping accident or something, but basically it was a waste of time and effort going. Good coffee and cake, but we could have had that without me dressing up and with better timing for ourselves too.
Phase 3 was the "famous" (well, I'd been told about it before going) eighties night at Laughtons... so I wore a besequinned cocktail dress from the eigthies, and matching accessories. Apparently in the old days this used to fill up early. This time it didn't, I felt rather awkward for a couple of hours. Still, I had a really good night overall, for two reasons: first, they played lots of things I did like from the eighties, as well as all the things I'd been glad to forget (fuck you, safety dance. Fuck you and fuck the people that mde you), and secondly because, well, perception again: all the cameraderie that had been utterly nonexistant in the daytimes was there in force like a euphoria bomb had gone off. This might explain the conga.
Musical points though: Nellie the Elephant still strikes me as an end-of-the-night song, not a two-hours-to-go song, and while I like Heart's "Alone", I don't want to dance to it. But yay for Erasure.
-------------------
Today we ambled up to the abbey, and came home.
--------------------
Overall, it was an enjoyable holiday. Expensive. Physically quite taxing - early starts and late finishes hurt, and being ill didn't help. Very strange, in terms of social interaction and the strangeness of peoples' reactions to me. But good. I'm glad I went.
And now I have sketches of a steel-plate and black leather fairy outfit. I'll have to see if I can make that one happen.
So, we did a lot of sewing before the do. This meant that on Thursday I was already knackered. We set off at half one, maybe two, Morecake, Sycorax, and I. There was sewing in the car - a red hobble-skirt that goes with the red taffeta jacket I made for that steampunk party.
We got there in reasonable time, found the hotel without difficulty (the Saxonville, just round the corner from the Met. I recommend it), and then ambled into town for food. This first time we took a somewhat circuitous route (I'd only been this side of the river long enough to find a takeaway before, having only been in town for a medieval do, and the others haven't been for a long while and were rusty on their geography), but ended up in a pub with food and it was all fine. We left the pub separately - I wanted cash and needed to get changed, so I left earlier, while the others wanted to find Laughtons and check the dress level.
The evening saw us in Laughtons. The place is a reasonable little club. One big room, with an upstairs floor that's cut through around the dancefloor allowing you to watch. Three bars, technically, one set of toilets (that smelled funny). Not particularly manky compared with the Corp, but hardly pristine.
So, Thursday was random day at Laughtons. Upstairs was shut, music was eclectic. I had a dress that looked kind of like sci-fi armour. It was fun, but I lost an earring to violent head movements. Note to self: do not wear hook earrings while dancing.
-----------------
The hotel serves breakfast until half nine. This means getting up early even on hangover days. We got up on Friday, had the breakfast, and schemed. Or more reasonably "planned", since we're all grown up and respectable now. The daytime event was sewing plus shopping. So we hit the bring and buy (me in black-and-gold daytime wear), which was great. We all came away with nice things - I got a teal and black patterned corset, with fluffy trim. Gorgeous.
The evening was a steampunk nght, principally. There was a variety show at the Rifle Club. This was a bit odd for me, because when we got there (Morecake as a zeppelin and time machine pilot, me as her wife in a red dress the size of a house, and Sycorax as someone who just looked really good) I discovered that the guy running the thing was tinker John... who I last saw doing historical re-enactment work, back in pre-transition days. I don't know whether he didn't recognise me, or whether he just decided to ignore me, but either way it was a little awkward. The show itself was a bit off - some quite casual racism in a play just stopped it being funny. It also left me a bit worried about steampunk in general - is it possible to do this without being jingoistically pro-empire? Clearly yes, but not clearly yes as part of what we might call "the scene". Also, the singing double act was, well... she could sing but he couldn't. I'm not saying I could put on or arrange a better gig - especially given the constraints of the theme - but I'm sure there is someone in Sheffield that could, because I've seen better here.
There's always a military theme with John. It's built into him and how he works, and I find it slightly disturbing. I'm not a giant hippy. I know we need armed forces, I'm even convinced we need nuclear weapons (but don't start on the new trident thing. I'm not convinced by that at all). But I have this problem: if I ever deliberately kill anyone, I want it to be because I know they deserve it (where deserve it includes self-defense and a host of other reasons). This precludes me joining the armed forces, because joining the forces includes within it the statement that you are prepared to kill on someone elses orders - i.e. you are prepared to kill without checking for yourself that it's justified. I don't trust people generally (and British officers specifically) enough to take their word for it that someone else deserves to die. I also don't really trust people who do - it's a fundamental philosophical difference that makes me twitchy. On the other hand, military types do tend to be collectivists - they are used to working as a group to achieve a non-personal cause - and that sits well with me. Just to make things more complicated though, military types tend to exhibit various isms and phobias that make me twitchy too.
Anyway, the length of that paragraph should give you some insight into how strange it is being around military types, and how odd it makes me feel, and how odd it is to find an event with the word "punk" in it being run by one.
After the steampunk thing we ambled around a bit and ended up in a club night where the bring and buy had been. I was utterly knackered, so I went home very soon. Frankly, I should have gone home straight after the steampunk, but bad decisions happen.
------------------
Saturday was bazaar day. We had breakfast, and then I slept late because I was knackered (a theme in this holiday). The bazaar had lots of interesting stalls with nice things, but I didn't buy any because I was poor, and because... well... anything I really wanted I could have made myself.
I need to talk about this thing, and this might be a good space for it. When I do re-enactment gigs, there's this sense of cameraderie. You're wearing silly outfits and doing something together. Even with people you don't know, you're still part of one team. You get the same hting with metal festivals, apparently. You get it with LARP too. I'd been observing for the weekend, and by Saturday I was certain. It wasn't there in any significant quantity at Whitby in the daytime. I don't know why. Maybe it was me. Maybe my clothes marked me out as something other. Or maybe it's just not the culture - at least before the drinking starts. But either way, I got the stranger-in-town vibe in all the daytime excursions, and this one most of all.
Cue drama.
For the early evening, Morecake and I went out in special outfits - a gold frock coat with hat, cane, britches, etc, and for me a big green taffeta and velvet gown (I knew if I hung on to those green velvet gloves I'd need them some day). This prompted a comment from one local of "are they real?", which made morecake happy. We had a drink in the Elsinore, which didn't taste soapy (apparently this is odd?). And then we decided to come home, because said outfits don't go well with clubs.
For the late evening, we ambled of to Laughtons again (another theme) for some bands. I had a mostly-black outfit with a short skirt and a bag of UV accessories that I did not use in the end. We caught the last three names from this gig, which is to say Ulterior, Grooving in Green, and the O Children. Also, the March Violets were playing, which meant nothing to me then, but apparently some people think this is exciting.
It might not be wort hanything for a non-goth to provide a music review, but I will anyway. Once upon a time I thought fifties rock and roll was shit. Then I heard some live and suddenly I knew what the point was: the pounding pounding bass was a live thing in and of itself, with the tunes and the songs just decoration for its hypnotic rhythm. Ulterior managed to do the same sort of thing for me. I'm utterly convinced I would be bored by their albums, because I can't remember a single tune or lyric, but if I could hear them in a club I'd feel the urge to dance, because the fascinating bass is rather compelling. They did however come across (and bear in mind this is a personal impression from a flawed human being) as being full of themselves.
Grooving in Green came across as having a sense of humour. Also the singer was pretty, and actually had some presence (once he took his damn shades off). Unfortuantely they sounded like, well, scratchy mid eighties goth. If Faster Pussycat would have been goth and rather blander, then bosh, that's what you'd have got. Nothing exciting about it.
The March Violets have apparently not done a gig in 25 years. As far as I can see it this means they've gone from cutting-edge to retro-kitsch without ever being (publicly) old and naff. I think the point of the band was to take advantage of the latest advances in drum machine and synth technology to create a very artificial sound featuring punchy aggressive female vocals and more mellow male vocals (which is an interesting inversion of the usual norm). Unfortunately, that was the early eighties, and they still sound like that because they haven't changed. Good at it, maybe. Interesting, yes. Historically interesting, even. Pioneers in their time, perhaps - I don't know. But very distinctively in-period, and that period was twenty-five years ago. It might be interesting to watch what they do next and see if they do something new or just act as a sort of historical re-enactment of themselves. Hey, it works for Status Quo.
The O Childrens singer is very tall. I mention this because after the first song he said, out loud and over his mike, that he wasn't going to do anything until he got a longer mike stand. Now, to be fair, he is very tall, and the mike stand probably wasn't comfortable, and he didn't actually carry out this threat. But on the other hand, the words "hideously unprofessional" are appropriate. Musically I should say that they sounded like a bunch of goths - kind of dreary. There wasn't anything exciting about them and I don't understand why these were the headline act. Presumably there is a point ot them, but I missed it or it missed me.
Finally hats off to the sound engineer. Not because he's good at his job - no, hats off to him because normally people who are that crap get sacked. Jesus, but his sweet-talking and excuses must be good.
----------------
Sunday was another three-phase day. Phase one was more shopping - the leisure centre had stalls too, and to my mind more interesting ones than the Spa. I had my new corset, a Velda Lauder skirt, and a long sleeved top. The stalls seemed more varied - there were steampunky bits, and Licorish Latex, and Velda Lauder (who recognised her skirt and tried to sell me a matching jacket I couldn't afford), and just more randomness. I picked up a bunch of CDs (and now officially own exactly one actual goth album. There you go, one album's weight to the claim I'm a goth... I've got more ABBA, for christs sake), and got a replacement sword from Eldritch (some LARP guys who didn't send me a sword when I bought it three years ago). As an aside I should mention that they seem nice and their stuff is nice, but when things go wrong they really go wrong. Anyway, this did mean posing with a silly foam sword ensued.
The others went to the football (which Team Goth lost, apparently), but I went home to change for phase 2. There was a lolita themed tea party I wanted to get to. So I put on a cute little green dress and ribbons, and got over there. The "event"... well, didn't deserve that name. I don't know what was supposed to happen, exactly, but I got there (and Morecake and Sycorax arrived shortly after), and nobody was in charge, and nobody introduced themselves or anything like a plan, so basically we were sat in a tea shop with nothing going on. I don't know what that was about, and I don't want to be nasty because hey, maybe the organiser had a fatal crimping accident or something, but basically it was a waste of time and effort going. Good coffee and cake, but we could have had that without me dressing up and with better timing for ourselves too.
Phase 3 was the "famous" (well, I'd been told about it before going) eighties night at Laughtons... so I wore a besequinned cocktail dress from the eigthies, and matching accessories. Apparently in the old days this used to fill up early. This time it didn't, I felt rather awkward for a couple of hours. Still, I had a really good night overall, for two reasons: first, they played lots of things I did like from the eighties, as well as all the things I'd been glad to forget (fuck you, safety dance. Fuck you and fuck the people that mde you), and secondly because, well, perception again: all the cameraderie that had been utterly nonexistant in the daytimes was there in force like a euphoria bomb had gone off. This might explain the conga.
Musical points though: Nellie the Elephant still strikes me as an end-of-the-night song, not a two-hours-to-go song, and while I like Heart's "Alone", I don't want to dance to it. But yay for Erasure.
-------------------
Today we ambled up to the abbey, and came home.
--------------------
Overall, it was an enjoyable holiday. Expensive. Physically quite taxing - early starts and late finishes hurt, and being ill didn't help. Very strange, in terms of social interaction and the strangeness of peoples' reactions to me. But good. I'm glad I went.
And now I have sketches of a steel-plate and black leather fairy outfit. I'll have to see if I can make that one happen.
