Please do try to contain yourselves.
Take it from me: You haven’t known true awkwardness until you’ve completely botched an English country dance at a masquerade ball at a Jane Austen Festival, disrupting the steps of Regency costume-clad people on both sides, finding yourself suddenly consumed with sympathy for the odious Mr. Collins of Pride and…
For a woman who spent much of her life pinched for pennies, Jane Austen sure makes a handy marketing tool today. For example, on my way into a Jane Austen Festival dance workshop at the local Guildhall (another soaring, cake-like interior), I was handed a flyer for a “Georgian Lunch Menu,” offering 20 percent off for…
It’s quite clear that, for many attendees, a highlight of the Jane Austen Festival is the opportunity to wear any number of dazzling Regency-era costumes.
Okay, I confess: I am not attending the Jane Austen Festival purely out of love for one of the greatest novelists in the history of the English language. I’m also driven by a deep and abiding love of the Regency romance.
I’m not going to subject you to the umpteen millionth permutation of the opening line of Pride and Prejudice, so let’s just lay it out there: Holy shit, there are so many Jane Austen souvenirs.
Greetings from Bath, England, where I’m currently attending the fifteenth annual Jane Austen Festival, on the two-hundredth-year anniversary of both the publication of Emma and the Battle of Waterloo, in an attempt to probe the outer limits of my own deep fondness for Austen’s oeuvre. Yes, I am dressing up.