Almost but not quite you father's Renaissance Pleasure Faire

I stopped going to the Renaissance Fair some time around 1983 when it was in Topanga Canyon. I remember it as a hot, dusty relic of the hippie era that interested me less than a Buffalo Springfield album – a lot less, come to think of it. But the last few years Sheryl and Madeleine have been going to a re-upped Renaissance Pleasure Faire, which, a sixties snob, I resisted until this year. I shouldn’t have. It’s fun. And it’s also an excellent people-watching opportunity since the sociology is layered and complex – a bit of old Deadhead hippie ethic, mixed with a a biker-redneck thing and some ethnic salsa of various stripes. The group below is typical…

It’s also a good place for old guys to lech after younger women…

And middle-aged punks to brush up on their mohawks…

While their girlfriends take belly-dancing lessons…

<img alt=”bellydanclessons.jpg” src=”http://www.rogerlsimon.com/mt-archives/bellydanclessons.jpg” width=”432″ height=”287″ /

Madeleine took fencing lessons (from a good coach, actually)

And some others just played watermelonhead…

And the burghers drank their mead (plenty of it)…

Not everybody liked me taking their picture…

But some did …

Anyway, you get the idea. It all had a je ne sais Diane Arbus quoi. More fun than Disneyland, though slightly less “family,” if you catch my drift.