Jason and I have been attending the Regency Romance Ball for almost as many years as it’s been held in Salt Lake City. So, of course, this February we again proved that any savage can dance.
This year, we Regency revelers convened at the Little America Hotel, a classy venue that added to the general splendor of the night with its stunning chandeliers and elegant furnishings.
After filling up on asparagus with mixed greens salad, Welsh chicken, parsley potatoes and vegetables, homemade rolls, marzipan squares, trifle, and parsnip and carrot tarts, we danced the night away. Well, more precisely, we ate a considerable amount of food, danced a bit, feasted again, pranced a little more, and then stuffed ourselves further even though our esophagi were brimming. After all that, we settled down our cavorting tummies with hot tea and cocoa before skipping out on the dancefloor once more.
Jason and I were again among the dance instructors this year so we helped all of the confused gentry sort out Meadow Goose, Gay Gordons, Lady Mary Ramsey, Duke of Kent’s Waltz, Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot, Oslo Waltz, Take a Dance, and Sir Roger DeCoverley Reel. Sometimes chaos abounded but, on several occasions, our lines learned so fast I felt a surge of motherly pride for my step children.
Speaking of pride, Jason won the Mr. Darcy award for his fine costume. Was it because he wore his haughty disdain about him like a gilded waistcoat? Not really, but he did put on an arrogant act for the contest’s sake. Obviously, that feigned conceit paid off.
I love the Regency Romance Ball and I’m not the only one. Everyone is in good spirits at this event. For the ladies have the acute sensation that they have fallen into one of their favorite novels and the men intensely appreciate that the brownie points piling up will serve them rather well when they want to spend a Sunday watching football with their chaps.
What a magnificent experience!