The Ren Faire and me: Divination, part 2
(This post is part of a series of ruminations on why I’m leaving the New York Ren Faire after 13 years.)
It was the palm readings that lead to my gradual disenchantment with reading at the Faire.
The Ren Faire and me: Divination, part 1
(This post is part of a series of ruminations on why I’m leaving the New York Ren Faire after 13 years.)
Question: What do the other readers on Mystics Way call you when you’ve been reading at the Ren Faire for 14 seasons?
The Ren Faire and me: the social connection, part 2
(This post is part of a series that goes over why, after 13 years, I’m leaving the New York Ren Faire.)
Walk through the gates of the New York Renaissance Faire. Continue straight along Spendepenny Lane. You come to the Hawker’s Crossing Tavern. Bear left at the fork, and you’re on Mystics Way. There you find the largest gathering of psychic readers to be found at any Ren Faire.
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The Ren Faire and me: the social connection, part 1
(This post is part of a series that goes over why, after 13 years, I’m leaving the New York Ren Faire.)
Once upon a time (1984 or ’85), a performer playing a Gypsy at the Bristol Ren Faire in Wisconsin plucked a young man out of the crowd and danced with him as part of the end-of-day celebration. It was just part of the show, and she probably thought little more about it.
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