What could be better than spreading blankets near a chattering brook and genteelly consuming refined fare with distinguished friends? Why yes, wearing fashionable waistcoats and taking pony rides through tree-lined lanes would make such an occasion even finer.
The company was most agreeable at our moveable feast.
Pedestrianism, or competitive walking, was a sport in Regency times. We held a manly walking contest at the picnic. Jason’s snobby strides won.
Last month, we attended Visions of History’s Regency Picnic at Memory Grove in Salt Lake City. This affair gave us a chance to daintily partake of charcuterie, cheese, and fruit with some of our historic companions while the hum of harp and stream gently aided our digestion. It also afforded opportunities to amuse ourselves with the prettiest equipage.
This pony deserves his nickname, “The Red Rocket.” He never seemed to tire no matter how many of us he lugged around.
The distant skyscrapers belied the historical fiction fashioned by our frocks and cravats.
A miniature carriage and steed lend great distinction to an occasion.
It was an elegant and pleasing event. Thank you, Visions of History, for planning such a pleasant outing.
I was pleased to be invited to Visions of History’s Ladies Victorian Tea at The Grand America last month.
I was fully prepared for the social and genteel demands of this occasion. With my delicately-netted gloves, stiff taffeta skirt, puffed sleeves, and equally-puffed hair impeccably placed, I gracefully nibbled scones topped with clotted cream and lemon curd, macaroons, and cucumber sandwiches. I sipped tea with a perfectly-popped pinky while carrying on stylish conversations with my companions. Indeed, the tearoom was titivated by my refined presence.
My outfit was appropriately ruffled, puffed, and laced.
The Grand America provided the perfect setting for our elegant affair.
Not convinced of my overpowering poise? Okay, perhaps my charm was not quite sufficient for the fanciness of the affair. I spilled tea on my dress and had to hunch awkwardly a bit to keep from dribbling anything else. With that said, I had a splendid time chatting with my fellow history aficionados and we were the highlight of the memorable atmosphere for many of the ladies and little girls taking tea; we received a number of picture requests from these females.
It was a delightful afternoon spent in the company of fashionable foods, bygone vogues, and cultured companions.
Today, I am graciously giving you males out there some life-altering information and advice. Prepare for your world to be rocked.
My man is hot in a cravat!
Men, to 80% of the women you encounter you will never be hotter than when outfitted in Regency attire, like a Jane Austen character. Why do I feel compelled to give such random priceless wisdom? Well, frankly because you boys are a little dense.
I was tasked with creating flower arrangements for the ball again this year.
Jason and I were among the dance demonstrators at the ball.
Jason and I recently went to the Regency Romance Ball in Salt Lake City again. At this affair, attendees are carried back to the time of Jane Austen by elegant surroundings, tasteful food, period attire, and vintage dancing.
Every year I debate whether to make another outfit for the ball, I only have three after all.
This year, the ball sold out with around 300 attendees. As popular as it was, not everyone that wanted to go was able. You see, I’ve been privy to a lot of female protests over the years regarding the difficulties of securing male companions for this event. And, thus, the importance of my message emerges.
Obviously, a lot of men are wise and I’m sure they reap the rewards of their wisdom.
Jason is clever; he’s never once complained about wearing clothes that look supremely fine on him.
For I can only assume that if you blokes, being self-serving creatures, knew that attending such affairs would not only earn you an uncalculatable amount of brownie points but also elevate you from modern dud to Regency stud that you’d be all too eager to go. Therefore, I must conclude that you are grossly unaware of the facts… or were until a moment ago.
The food at the ball is elegant and tasty, another reason for you men to cease your objecting.
Men, you don’t need to understand Mr. Darcy’s appeal to benefit from it so I hope to see more of you at next year’s ball proudly pirouetting about in waistcoats and cravats while your ladies ogle you. Don’t say I never gave you nothing.
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