Flea report
Last weekend I went with a friend to the 34th New England Leather Alliance’s Fetish Fair Fleamarket, which is a huge annual (sometimes semi-annual)event in Providence, Rhode Island. More than a vendor extravaganza (though it is that, too!), the Flea includes performances, workshops, demos, and social events like a masquerade ball. The organizers appear to be old-guard leatherfolk, and their presence lends a particular activist / social consciousness energy to the event (proceeds from several features of the Flea, such as the Bootblacking station, benefit local health advocacy efforts).
My friend and I made a day trip of it on Saturday the 13th. Our first stop was the vendor room of author D. L. King who had kindly agreed to give a bit of space to some of my promo postcards and items. We’d never met before and it was a treat to be able to do so. Many vendors, DL included, booked into corridors of rooms at the Westin Hotel where the event was held. The effect was intimate and reminded me of the open studio tours that artists sometimes run in towns with good arts support (Providence is one such, with tax breaks and studio / housing subsidies for artists and many converted mills and machine shops turned over to studio and performance space).
The variety of vendors was pretty staggering, including a small minority those offering mass-produced crap that was pretty easy to ignore. The ones that grabbed my attention were those artisans offering items that reflected high levels of skill and evidence of passion. A chain mail artist noticed a link missing on my friend’s mail shirt and insisted on repairing it at no charge, simply because he couldn’t bear to see work in his field of expertise suffer.
There was a leather worker whose display consisted of the raw materials of his craft. When I asked where his finished products were, he replied by handing me a catalog and saying, “I won’t make what you want, but I will teach you how to make it!” His enthusiasm for sharing his passion was inspiring. Jewelry makers offered wares to decorate your nipples, navel, neck, wrists, and nether bits; leather workers in floggers and whips and masks and hoods and collars abounded; corset makers, furniture builders, fetish wear designers, rope dyers, and so many more kept my attention zipping around like a bumblebee in a flower garden. I even sampled chocolates from a fellow offering noms in every naughty shape you can imagine.
There weren’t nearly as many booksellers as I’d hoped for; Circlet Press was a notable exception, along with D. L. King). My one suggestion for the organizers would be that they insert author readings into the daytime events rather than tucking them in between the daytime stuff and the evening festivities.
Wondering about trends in kink? So was I, and the one that jumped out at me over and over was that steampunk has made the jump into fetishwear and intends to stay. There was one designer selling all manner of goggles, vests, and headgear, and before I left the Flea I saw more than one attendee sporting his wares. I also saw a dressmaker’s dummy outside one ‘shop’ decked out in a leather corset embellished with glass ampoules, clockwork components, and compass roses. Delightful!
We only had time for one workshop, a presentation about tango as a D/s activity. The presenter was clearly an experienced dance instructor and by his colors was a dedicated leatherman, so I was surprised to hear him teach us to dance using heteronormative terminology (“man’s steps,” “lady’s steps”). Still, it was an entertaining 90 minutes of two-left-footed stumbling on our parts.
We also spent time in the bondage lounge and the whip lounge. The frank discussion of ways to restrain a struggling partner captivated my attention in the bondage lounge, and it was interesting to watch novices aim and shoot for the paper targets strung along the walls of the whip lounge.
What really revved my engine, though, not that you asked, was a moment at one of the vendor’s booths. One side of the display offered an assortment of (to my untrained eyes) high-quality floggers with lovely hand-carved handles. One the other side, behind a black curtain, was an alcove where serious shoppers could try out the wares. As I reverently fondled deer, buffalo, and calf floggers, a whoosh-thud sounded from behind the curtain, followed by a loud gasp. Rooted to the spot, I listened for a few moments before skittering away to avoid being seen. I wasn’t ashamed to be caught listening -- frank curiosity is a liberating feature of the Flea. No, part of me didn’t want to see the people behind the curtain -- public detection didn’t work for the Wizard of Oz, and I expected similar results.
I left the Flea with a sense of pride and admiration. This community, on whose fringes I operate the way a mouse operates in a granary, is strong, supportive, attentive to social and political concerns, and very definitely imaginative beyond belief.
I’ll go back next year as a vendor if possible. Fellow travelers: you want to come, too?
Cheers,
Lee
http://leebenoittales.com
P.S. The image above was featured at the marvelous Male Submission Art blog; click on the image to visit the artist Vishstudio's DeviantArt page.