My Sparring Partner and I went to the local SF con over the weekend. It was pleasant. Handed off the corset to my client (looked pretty darn good), bought some books, dressed up a bit, said hi to everyone we needed to see and got a little costume love.
His outfit was mostly purchased, although I tailored it a bit. It's a lot easier to find off-the-rack items that will pass for men's western wear; their fashions just haven't changed that much in the last 140 years, and the fitting is less crucial. I made my dress, of course. The skirt I made years ago (it used to look like this), the corset I made last year, the jacket I made last week, finally putting to use the striped fabric I'd been hoarding for ten years. Everyone was very nicely complimentary. Jan said, "You sure class up the joint."
I think that deserves a close-up, don't you?
I did not, alas, have time to finish my hat. I'm not too broken up about it, because I liked the feathers in my hair and they were easier to wear than those little pin-on hats ever are.
We also got to wear our "Baptist" tee-shirts around the con floor. Yes, Brennan at Zazzle came through, after several harried phone calls, delays, machines breaking down, etc. Sounds like Brennan could use a vacation, too. But he got the shirts to me by noon on Friday. Since I'm not used to wearing printed tee-shirts, it always caught me off guard when someone was staring but not meeting my eyes. "They're eating my.... what?" and then I'd have to explain. Everyone was polite but I don't think many were interested in the story. Many were amused by the quote, though. "Good for them!" one guy said. "Feed 'em the Lutherans, next."
Curious thing I noticed, when other writer-acquaintances asked what I'd been doing:
"I made my first pro sale back in March."
"Really! That's great! To whom?"
(With face falling flat) "Oh. Well, good for you."
Depending on who I was talking to, that flat reaction was either polite distaste for the digital market, or flat-out jealousy at the venue--or in some cases, both. I mentioned it to Rob, who concurred. "I get the same reaction when I sell to Analog," he said. "Small presses are great for what they do, but I want to play in the major leagues." Chaque a son gout, I say, without the accents because I'm too lazy to look them up.
Rob and Tracy in the onslaught of the wind tunnel a/k/a the party floor:
(Thanks to Shara for the pictures.)