Regency Romance

Posted by on February 20, 2014 at 4:14 pm :: No Comments

You don’t need a TARDIS to travel into the past, you just need a few ringlets or an uncommonly-undersized waistcoat.

I made both of these costumes and have made others like them. One never knows when a whole wardrobe of Austen might be required to procure enjoyment.

I made both of these costumes and have sewn others like them. One never knows when a whole wardrobe of Austen might be required to procure enjoyment.

Last week we, once again, attended the Regency Romance Ball in Salt Lake City. This Jane Austen-themed event was, as expected, full of forgotten manners and spirited dances. We were joined this year by four other couples of our acquaintance, making a highly agreeable assemblage.

Our group was well dressed but not well behaved.

Our group was well dressed but not well behaved.

A proper lady can’t wear the same ensemble two days or two successive balls in a row. Therefore, despite my lack of lacking appropriate attire, I made a new dress with a matching reticule for this affair. I also added to the Regency wardrobe of my stylish gentleman by stitching him some authentic breeches. I assure you, that measure was self-serving in nature as any work put into Jason’s apparel for this occasion was well rewarded through the very great pleasure afforded by his historical hotness. But, apart from that, our costumes also procured us the prestigious, yet not that prestigious, position of 2nd place in both the women’s and men’s contests and also in the couple’s. How do you win 2nd place three times in one night and not 1st ever? I suppose it takes a particular type of talent to nearly succeed repeatedly while still consistently remaining a loser.

Our men flaunted outdated fashions with grandiosity and absurdity.

Our men flaunted outdated fashions with grandiosity and absurdity.

We ladies were elegantly attired in gowns that even Miss Woodhouse would have deemed acceptable.

We ladies were elegantly attired in gowns that even Miss Woodhouse would have deemed acceptable.

Jason and I delightfully danced the night away while our companions selectively dabbled on the dance floor. Few women, and none of good breeding, would complain about the prospect of being twirled around a ballroom by their very own Pemberley squire. I would certainly not be among them.

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