Immersive events may be all the rage these days, but even the most high-tech among them owes an inspirational debt to the Renaissance fair, an OG immersive extravaganza of history and fantasy, fueled by fried food and turkey legs.
Arts and culture writer Gemma Wilson and food writer Jackie Varriano sallied forth to Washington Midsummer Renaissance Faire (weekends through Aug. 16), an outdoor spectacular in Snohomish, to check out the shows, snacks and costumes on offer.
Here’s what they saw in the village of Merriwick.
An amaze-ing arrival
Gemma Wilson: Jackie, as we arrived at the faire, when did you know we were in for a very special day?
Jackie Varriano: The minute we rounded the bend and saw endless tents spanning a giant field. And then, again, 30 seconds later, when I saw my first man in tights. What about you?
Gemma: I think I saw my first pair of elf ears (of many, it turned out) when you saw that man in tights, and I knew we were in for a treat.
Jackie: I’ve been trying to do a little research on how this phenomenon began and if it’s always been overrun with elf ears, but I haven’t found anything definitive on that. However, did you know that the Renaissance fair got its start in California in 1963?
Gemma: I did not! Tell me more! Sounds like a very hippie-coded event.
Jackie: You are correct! The first “Renaissance Pleasure Faire,” held in 1963, was a big counterculture event started in Laurel Canyon by a teacher, Phyllis Patterson, and her husband, Ron. This was peak Red Scare-era and due to the fear of communism, there were lots of blacklisted film industry folks. They all got together to host an Elizabethan fair to celebrate free thinking, art, music, culture and food, while also raising money for a local radio station. It gained popularity, so much so that now hundreds of similar events take place every summer across the country (with varying degrees of historical accuracy).
The Washington rendition is a meandering maze, where someone could walk in wearing total normie clothes and walk out in a full get-up complete with drinking horn, braided hair, leather pouch, you name it. The craftsmanship was amazing and somewhat overpowering, especially because the stages just seemed squeezed in between all the vendor booths. I wasn’t totally sure what the main draw was supposed to be outside of the massive jousting arena.
Gemma: I kept thinking of it as a medieval IKEA, where you have to wander through aisles of trinkets before you find what you’re looking for, and pick up many things you didn’t know you were looking for, like a classic flower crown.
Jackie: I am pretty proud of us for not walking away with flower crowns. Tween me caved immediately at the Minnesota Renaissance Festival in the mid-’90s.
Gemma: No regrets! I also have to say, though we were in the minority as uncostumed people, I never felt out of place at all; it had a very come-as-you-are energy. The costumes really ran the gamut of both history and fantasy: fairy queens, full-on satyrs and what looked to me like inspiration from “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild,” which is a video game, Jackie.
Jackie: Bless you for the clarification. Some of these costumes were so impressive that it was tough to tell who was working the festival and who was just there enjoying it. I kept waiting for people passing us to break into song or pull us into a bit, but we didn’t see too much of that!
Jacques and jousting steal the show
Gemma: I didn’t see as many roving performers as expected, but there were so many stages in the place that you couldn’t go far without hitting a show. The first one we stumbled upon was a strongwoman, which was physically so impressive, but the interstitial comedy was kind of Borscht Belt?
Jackie: I can’t claim to be a full-on theater kid, but I dabbled. One thing I learned is that you need to know your strengths. The strongwoman’s muscles lived up to the hype, but her draw was strength, and I don’t think we should expect her to be a master comedian. That show would’ve been so much stronger (hehe) if she had a foil — or was the foil — and there was someone running commentary for her to interact with other than a flaming chainsword.
Gemma: Yeah, she didn’t seem all that comfortable with anything but the feats of strength. You know who had his patter routine down, though? Jacques.
Jackie: Oh, Jacques! I am still verklempt. You’re the theater critic. Please, break down the performance art that is Jacques ze Whipper.
Gemma: Matador-esque outfit, drawn-on mustache and a show built around whip-related gags that doubled as tricks of whip accuracy and the rhythm section for improvised songs — this man knows his audience. I was impressed how in control he felt, even if the jokes were all very rehearsed. He had great rapport with the kids, but also tapped into the millennial parent nostalgia by working in Lil Jon and other 2000s club hits. He blamed internet comments for an obsession with his derrière, but let’s be real, he just wanted to talk about his butt.
Jackie: That man loved his butt, and he definitely had stage charisma, probably because he’s a lifelong circus performer. I just found out he does Cameos, so just let me know when your birthday is.
Gemma: I’m a Capricorn, and that’s all I’ll tell you. Maybe that’s why I inwardly cringe at things like the Punch and Judy-style puppet show we ran across, because I am obsessed with comeuppance. But watching little kids howl with laughter at puppet antics is its own kind of show, so that’s what I focused on. Adorable!
Jackie: Yes, one of the best things about this was the people-watching. When we grabbed our piece of bleacher for the jousting, I was impressed by how quickly the hype clowns got the crowd not only paying attention but completely whipped into a frenzy. We were divided by section into rooting for a country — Spain, France, England or Scotland — and in no time we were screaming for our respective knights. People were invested, even as residual dust from the horses blew in their faces.
Gemma: LET’S GO SCOTLAND! Seriously, there is nothing more entertaining than a totally arbitrary and temporary fandom that lets you cheer and boo with abandon. And the knights’ squires got in on the action with some rodeo clown-style gags, getting in scuffles, tossing baguettes and the like. The knight events we saw were mostly feats of precision, but still a good time. I liked that our section started jeering England for having a small horse and that everyone got in on it, from families with little kids to youths in full-on cosplay.
Faire foods underdeliver
Gemma: The lowlight of that show was the strawberry lemonade I bought because I was so thirsty, and it was sold close to the equestrian arena. Obviously, I got the magical variety — be-swirled with edible glitter and sold in a fancy pop-top bottle ($12) — but the thing tasted like a cheap melted Popsicle. Vile.
Jackie: Ah, yet another damsel wooed by shiny things. I’m glad you brought up the strawberry lemonade, which unfortunately felt par for the course when it comes to concessions at ye olde faire: overpromising and underdelivering.
Gemma: So disappointing! And I love fair foods in general, but these were very blah.
Jackie: This is something we struggled with while there. There were many choices available — poke bowls, gyros, fish and chips, elephant ears, barbecued meats and even pizza. But the longest lines were for the most “medieval” foods: meat pies and turkey legs. How can I be expected to eat a bao when there’s a turkey leg!
We waited in a very long line for a steak and mushroom pie ($14), a Scotch egg ($8) and a curry lamb pie ($14). I would not eat any of them again. Also, after watching dozens of people gnaw on smoked turkey and peeping the $24 price tag, I couldn’t bring myself to wait in the leg line. I devoured those mini doughnuts ($11.50) on my couch later, and they were perfect.
Gemma: I did eat my whole meat pie despite the crust’s eau de freezer burn, but in my defense, I was very hungry. My favorite part about our midday exit was noticing the uptick in, ahem, much more leather-forward costumes arriving at the faire. As you said, the people-watching was the real treat here.
Jackie: And, due to the mazelike setup and sensory overload, time seems to stop while at the faire. Were we there for three hours or three days? I’ll never know for sure.
Gemma: It’s Burning Man-“Brigadoon” for theater dorks (myself included). Next year, I’m going with a mushroom hat.
Jackie: This calls for a craft night! Next year, I’ll spring for an entire bucket of mini doughnuts.
The opinions expressed in reader comments are those of the author only and do not reflect the opinions of The Seattle Times.