Among the Oaks and Elders

Held over three days in Baltimore, the most magical of locations, Faeriecon 2009 brought together children, gamers, Pagans, Ren-festers, steampunks, bellydancers(?!), and the inevitable BDSM faction in their natural habitat: the Hunt Valley Marriott.

So as to fit in with the fey folk, Becky, who took these photos, and I wore shiny clothing and carried bread in our purses. When we got there, some winged strumpets were frolicking in the Marriot’s courtyard. Becky pointed the camera at them and they assembled into a perfectly composed storybook tableau.

Upon entering the hotel, I saw a dude with long, stringy hair selling elf ears and makeup applications. “Most people who bodypaint are t-shirt airbrush artists,” he told me. “I approach bodypainting from a theatrical makeup perspective. If you’ll allow me to gift you with some work, you’ll see!”

“Do you like trance music?” he asked as he began to paint my face. “I’m trying to network my way into the New York club scene. Did you know that it’s legal to be topless in New York City? You don’t even need pasties! Some lesbians got themselves arrested on purpose to protest how unfair the law was.” Clearly he was confused. He was also painting black swirls a little too far down on my person for my liking, using one hand to steady each boob as he decorated it. He topped off his work with a fine dusting of glitter, then slathered me in some sort of professional grade sealant. I looked in the mirror to see I’d become Titania’s darkwave sister.

This wingless dude-fairy with a flattop is “half wood elf and half gnome on my mother’s side,” he explained. “I’m a tour guide…if a dryad’s tree is cut down, I lead her to the next tree or she dies.”

“If it weren’t for him,” his female companion piped in, “I’d be stuck with a stupid old stump.”

“And her lifespan would be significantly shorter,” he winked.

What the hell were they talking about?

Next, I chatted up a couple selling some original faerie art. “We got to go drinking with Faun Friday night,” the guy said. “That was cool.” Any crazy hotel parties after the Bad Faeries Masquerade? “No, I was disappointed.” They seemed relatively sane, so I asked them how many people at the ‘con actually believed in faeries. “There’s a certain amount of faerie folklore that I believe from growing up in New Hampshire,” the girl said cautiously. “There’s an undeniable feeling in the woods…there’s definitely something there.”

The costume contest featured adults and kids (but mostly adults) competing to see who rocked their whimsy the hardest. The contest was punctuated by a goblin named Wedgi Two-Cheeks’ constant heckling. “I want to see some fairy fights!” she shrilled. “UFFC!” What was wrong with this green bitch? “I’ve been taking glitter pills!”

I think the contest may have been rigged, because when the “guardian of butterflies in transition” went up to claim first prize, a hooded figure went up after her, then got down on one knee. “Will you be my fairy forever?” he asked. She said yes, and everybody cheered. It was like a goddamn Drew Barrymore movie.

As it turned out, the happy couple lives ten hours away in Kentucky. “He came all the way here to surprise me,” she said, nearly in tears. “I’ve been yelling at him because I feel like he doesn’t wanna marry me. I feel like I’m gonna throw up!” Did he ever go to cons with her? “No, he wouldn’t go, he said it was stupid.”

Next, I came upon a father-son duo with creatures on their shoulders. What were those things? “You should be asking, what are those things under your feet,” the elder replied sagely.

“This is Lady Berry. When I found her egg, I thought it was a great big raspberry, but then she hatched out of it.” How did he get into this type of activity? “Marrying her,” he said, gesturing to his be-sparkled wife. Pay attention, guy-who-just-got-engaged, because this is your future.

In search of something even less wholesome, I found this guy. He draws and paints all sorts of fantasy sex scenarios, and I don’t mean “fantasy” like having a threesome with Gisele and Angelina, I mean it like a naked wood nymph about to make love to a dragon. “Most of those are commissions,” he explained as I leafed through his naughty book. “Believe it or not, most of them are from ladies. Women have galatically more detailed fantasies than men.” But how was that chick going to fuck that dragon? “I dunno, you’ll have to ask her.”

Delving deeper into the carpeted forest, we found a booth selling cool dress-up stuff and functional bondage gear. Becky tried on a robot mask.

I tried on a fetish mask.

Some kids checked out the bondage cuffs and collars. “These are epic!” the little boy said. “I, personally, would recommend the black,” replied the girl. Then, confusedly: “What are these used for?” Looking nervous, the shop’s proprietor told us we weren’t allowed to take pictures. Too late!

There was a “gaming room” where a guy in red contacts was initiating kids into the nefarious world of twenty-sided dice and not getting laid.

I know it doesn’t seem like they’d get along, but Promise Keepers would really do well to get past the Pagan undertones and recruit these guys for their cause.

Sia Lorna moved to New York from Puerto Rico to realize the great American dream of making full-figured dolls who come with books about their time traveling adventures. “She’s gonna get a boyfriend,” she informed me. Would he be anatomically correct, too? “Of course,” she grinned. “He has a happy and a relaxed.” Adorable.

The Kitchen Witch made flavored dipping oils over which she cast various types of spells. “I made this batch under the new moon,” she said. “That’s when I do spell work. Sometimes I call the corners, sometimes I don’t.” How did she interpret the concept of faeries? She looked at me like I was a stupid idiot. “Um, they’re real, absolutely. There are things in the world we can’t understand. Why not believe in faeries?”

The steampunk booth was attracting lots of splendiferous jailbait (this girl’s dad came to get her about ten minutes after her picture was taken). “What’s so great about goggles?” I asked the vendor. His eyes lit up. “Goggles imply adventure. They say, this is not just a Victorian gentleman walking down the street. He could be a mad scientist, or an airship captain.”

“Is it legal to carry this?” I asked the proprietor, eyeing a studded mace/gun looking contraption. “We never make anything that’s an actual weapon because I don’t trust the people I know. They’re gonna shoot me with it.”

He then cattily laid into his steampunk competitors as shoddy “cog on a stick” non-craftsmen. “They’ll take any chunk of Michael’s jewelry and throw a bunch of cogs on it,” he sneered. “Cogs should have a purpose instead of just sitting there.” Had there been any debauchery after the bad faeries ball? “I drank with Toby Froud,” he bragged. Who? “The son of Brian and Wendy Froud? You know, the magical world of Froud?!” I stared blankly. “He was the little boy in Labyrinth,” he sighed. “People think this event’s wild, but a bunch of Shriners will destroy a hotel.”

I had to find this Toby Froud character. Had he enjoyed the ball? “Oh, I enjoyed it immensely,” his puppet Ignatz replied in a nasal cockney accent. “There were sandwiches and all.” Were there afterparties? “Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches! That was the after party. Very tasty.”

Annoyed, I cut to the chase. Did he, Toby Froud, remember filming Labyrinth or was he too little? “I remember goblins’ faces close up,” he said, finally breaking out of character. “But I don’t know whether it’s a real memory or just from people telling me about it. I grew up with the film.” Did he believe in faeries? He began to look annoyed. “Truly, they’re completely real. They exist everywhere, and they’re enhanced by things like this.” Now I know what happens when you expose a small child to the pernicious influence of David Bowie’s member and other mythic beings.

I like to think these two were going off to make a half tree-man, half changeling love child.

Heed my words, ye who crave tastings of the fabled faerie snatch: it may be punani suicide elsewhere, but elf ears, pirate coats and resplendent locks are like catnip to the ladies of the ‘con. And don’t worry about them being cool. They know what happens at Faeriecon stays at Faeriecon.

Photos by Rebecca Smeyne