Costume College Woes
So, it's that time again. Costume College is right around the corner, and once again, I find myself strangely dreading it. It's been an absolutely ridiculous year and I've had almost no time for personal sewing (or much sewing at all), so I don't really have anything to wear, certainly nothing appropriate for the 18th Century theme, and not even really anything for my "own" time period, the crinoline era. I don't have anything to wear to the Gala on Saturday night, to which I am prone to going after dinner is over, and I refuse to wear the same 1950s-ish red cocktail dress I wore last year.
Sigh.
But worrying about clothes is easy. Clothes are literal and (har har) material. They're a straightforward sort of thing to fret about, and to make excuses about - I've been busy, things have been crazy, I've been stressed, and I'm about to move across the country so I'm not only increasingly busybusybusy but I won't have much packing space, or storage space once I get there.
The real issue is that every year, I spend the entirety of Costume College in a bizarre state of heightened anxiety, because at this point, sure, I know plenty of people, and recognize quite a few from internet lurking, but everyone has their circles and, as I realized at my first Costume College, three years ago (this will be my fourth), I'm not in any of them. So, in a panicky sort of way, I latch on to people, in a desperate attempt to avoid being left alone for extended periods of time while I just know that all around me, extraordinary degrees of fun and camaraderie are being had.
In this fashion, I suppose Costume College is sort of a microcosm of my life. I never fit in anywhere, not even with the outcasts, in part because I'm so used to not fitting in that I'm paranoid and nervous and quite effective at turning these things into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Confession?
I stopped Civil War reenacting largely because I realized that I was never really going to be in the group. Because the other founding members, and others who got involved, the core girls, they were all Costume College friends, and they had history, and I wasn't a part of that, and I didn't know how to be. They clustered, and I don't have it in me to chase people down. They had history, and they had, let's say, shared ideologies, and I found it harder and harder to convince myself I wasn't on the outside of everything. It's more than that, and my life really did get very busy, but if I'd had the motivation, I could have made it happen. But there's not much to be said for feeling like an outsider.
I've met some amazing people at Costume College, but I never do much follow up on trying to keep in touch, at least not for long, because everyone already has their thing, or their many things, going on. I don't. I'm busy, sure, with work and home and school application/prep and whatever personal life situations crop up, but I don't have a circle of friends. I haven't had, for years, except when I try to awkwardly splice myself onto someone else's, and it never works. I don't fit, or I'm living a lie, and in the end still not fitting. But people are busy and they have their habits and their friends and their social circles, and there isn't generally a great deal of motivation to move beyond that, and I'm too perpetually convinced that I'm bothering people to really push.
So Costume College is a source of immense anxiety. Of course, for me, life in general is a source of immense anxiety, but I find my chest tightening up at the thought of going again. I almost didn't, last year, though that was for far more complex reasons - my grandfather was dying in hospice, and literally days earlier, my boyfriend of very-nearly-a-year had broken up with me (or had I broken up with him? it's all in how you look at it, I suppose), which meant that I needed to move, in addition to which I had to quit another job, and was completely broke. Friday morning I got the call that my grandfather had passed, and I spent the better part of half an hour walking back and forth through the Airtel, end to end, because I didn't know what else to do. I was wandering dazedly through the Marketplace when I came upon amybee28, whom I'd met the yeaar before and not seen since. She asked me how I was doing, and I teared up. "Awful, actually," I think I said. She gave me a big hug, and has since probably forgotten about the whole thing, since it was just a little moment, but it meant a lot to me, as I'd been feeling so very miserable and alone.
It's very tricky, feeling miserable and alone. I try to avoid feeling it, but if all else fails, I try to hide it. So I smile and I laugh and I do my damnedest to make myself useful, and then I try to skitter away before people start wishing I'd gone. And when I don't leave, I secondguess myself and think I ought to have done. Obviously, I am more than a little dysfunctional.
It's funny: I'm absolutely brilliant at dating and complete rubbish at making friends. Don't try to psychoanalyze that one too deeply. I have; it's dangerous territory.
Anyway... I'm in one of my odd, confessional moods tonight, and this is what came out. Frankly, it's rather a relief to be confessing about something other than a former lover. There's been quite enough of that, thank you very much.
In related, somewhat more practical news - as I am moving to Massachusetts in late August, I am in the process of trying to get rid of a lot of fabric, and some patterns and vintage clothes. I'm planning to give some of it away, and sell some things on Etsy, but I could potentially sell things locally if anyone's interested. One of these days I'll take some pictures of the clothes and check the patterns. Off the top of my head, I have a bunch of Simplicity Martha McCain Civil War patterns in the smaller size set that there's no sense in my keeping, and some retro reissue patterns in small and medium sizes that I also no longer need to stockpile, plus a variety of other patterns. I have at least 20 cubic feet of synthetic chiffon and other sheers as well, much of which I do not need. Some interesting stretch materials that I'll likely never use, lots of nice-quality synthetic satin, and DEAR GOD a lot of trim, including some dandy laces.
In somewhat more related, but somewhat less practical, news - as I mentioned earlier, I don't pay for Gala tickets (perpetually broke and so forth - once again can't afford to stay at the hotel; have to pay for airfare and shipping instead!), but I usually drop in sometime after dinner is over. I have developed a habit of helping people with their hair during the downtime in recent years, and it occurs to me I might as well make the offer ahead of time. Hair is fun! If anyone wants assistance, let me know. Maybe if I make plans ahead of time I won't be so panicky about being at loose ends and missing out on something. Must. Stop. Panicking.
In almost entirely unrelated news - I'm going to a French and Indian War reenactment in upstate New York the last weekend of August and need to invent something passable to wear. Oh crap. At least it's 18th Century theme at Costume College this year, and I have Janet Arnold and Nancy Bradfield in the mail. *crosses fingers*
Now, to do dishes, and to contemplate how best to attach the red straw braid trim to the upturned brim of my black silk hat. Stitching would show on the other side - all I can think of is glue, and that seems an atrocity. I am not by any means an experienced milliner. I am, however, an experienced hoarder. Argh.
Sigh.
But worrying about clothes is easy. Clothes are literal and (har har) material. They're a straightforward sort of thing to fret about, and to make excuses about - I've been busy, things have been crazy, I've been stressed, and I'm about to move across the country so I'm not only increasingly busybusybusy but I won't have much packing space, or storage space once I get there.
The real issue is that every year, I spend the entirety of Costume College in a bizarre state of heightened anxiety, because at this point, sure, I know plenty of people, and recognize quite a few from internet lurking, but everyone has their circles and, as I realized at my first Costume College, three years ago (this will be my fourth), I'm not in any of them. So, in a panicky sort of way, I latch on to people, in a desperate attempt to avoid being left alone for extended periods of time while I just know that all around me, extraordinary degrees of fun and camaraderie are being had.
In this fashion, I suppose Costume College is sort of a microcosm of my life. I never fit in anywhere, not even with the outcasts, in part because I'm so used to not fitting in that I'm paranoid and nervous and quite effective at turning these things into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Confession?
I stopped Civil War reenacting largely because I realized that I was never really going to be in the group. Because the other founding members, and others who got involved, the core girls, they were all Costume College friends, and they had history, and I wasn't a part of that, and I didn't know how to be. They clustered, and I don't have it in me to chase people down. They had history, and they had, let's say, shared ideologies, and I found it harder and harder to convince myself I wasn't on the outside of everything. It's more than that, and my life really did get very busy, but if I'd had the motivation, I could have made it happen. But there's not much to be said for feeling like an outsider.
I've met some amazing people at Costume College, but I never do much follow up on trying to keep in touch, at least not for long, because everyone already has their thing, or their many things, going on. I don't. I'm busy, sure, with work and home and school application/prep and whatever personal life situations crop up, but I don't have a circle of friends. I haven't had, for years, except when I try to awkwardly splice myself onto someone else's, and it never works. I don't fit, or I'm living a lie, and in the end still not fitting. But people are busy and they have their habits and their friends and their social circles, and there isn't generally a great deal of motivation to move beyond that, and I'm too perpetually convinced that I'm bothering people to really push.
So Costume College is a source of immense anxiety. Of course, for me, life in general is a source of immense anxiety, but I find my chest tightening up at the thought of going again. I almost didn't, last year, though that was for far more complex reasons - my grandfather was dying in hospice, and literally days earlier, my boyfriend of very-nearly-a-year had broken up with me (or had I broken up with him? it's all in how you look at it, I suppose), which meant that I needed to move, in addition to which I had to quit another job, and was completely broke. Friday morning I got the call that my grandfather had passed, and I spent the better part of half an hour walking back and forth through the Airtel, end to end, because I didn't know what else to do. I was wandering dazedly through the Marketplace when I came upon amybee28, whom I'd met the yeaar before and not seen since. She asked me how I was doing, and I teared up. "Awful, actually," I think I said. She gave me a big hug, and has since probably forgotten about the whole thing, since it was just a little moment, but it meant a lot to me, as I'd been feeling so very miserable and alone.
It's very tricky, feeling miserable and alone. I try to avoid feeling it, but if all else fails, I try to hide it. So I smile and I laugh and I do my damnedest to make myself useful, and then I try to skitter away before people start wishing I'd gone. And when I don't leave, I secondguess myself and think I ought to have done. Obviously, I am more than a little dysfunctional.
It's funny: I'm absolutely brilliant at dating and complete rubbish at making friends. Don't try to psychoanalyze that one too deeply. I have; it's dangerous territory.
Anyway... I'm in one of my odd, confessional moods tonight, and this is what came out. Frankly, it's rather a relief to be confessing about something other than a former lover. There's been quite enough of that, thank you very much.
In related, somewhat more practical news - as I am moving to Massachusetts in late August, I am in the process of trying to get rid of a lot of fabric, and some patterns and vintage clothes. I'm planning to give some of it away, and sell some things on Etsy, but I could potentially sell things locally if anyone's interested. One of these days I'll take some pictures of the clothes and check the patterns. Off the top of my head, I have a bunch of Simplicity Martha McCain Civil War patterns in the smaller size set that there's no sense in my keeping, and some retro reissue patterns in small and medium sizes that I also no longer need to stockpile, plus a variety of other patterns. I have at least 20 cubic feet of synthetic chiffon and other sheers as well, much of which I do not need. Some interesting stretch materials that I'll likely never use, lots of nice-quality synthetic satin, and DEAR GOD a lot of trim, including some dandy laces.
In somewhat more related, but somewhat less practical, news - as I mentioned earlier, I don't pay for Gala tickets (perpetually broke and so forth - once again can't afford to stay at the hotel; have to pay for airfare and shipping instead!), but I usually drop in sometime after dinner is over. I have developed a habit of helping people with their hair during the downtime in recent years, and it occurs to me I might as well make the offer ahead of time. Hair is fun! If anyone wants assistance, let me know. Maybe if I make plans ahead of time I won't be so panicky about being at loose ends and missing out on something. Must. Stop. Panicking.
In almost entirely unrelated news - I'm going to a French and Indian War reenactment in upstate New York the last weekend of August and need to invent something passable to wear. Oh crap. At least it's 18th Century theme at Costume College this year, and I have Janet Arnold and Nancy Bradfield in the mail. *crosses fingers*
Now, to do dishes, and to contemplate how best to attach the red straw braid trim to the upturned brim of my black silk hat. Stitching would show on the other side - all I can think of is glue, and that seems an atrocity. I am not by any means an experienced milliner. I am, however, an experienced hoarder. Argh.