Everyone has their own nerdy hobby, don’t they? I am the first to admit that I have several, though one in particular leaps to mind. Unfortunately, while most people can lock themselves into secret places to work on their geeky passions, be they building model airplanes or crafting computer programs, mine happens to be one that by its very nature is extremely showy. It almost needs to be public. That means I can’t hide behind anything while I’m doing historical re-enactment.
Historical re-enactment can be many things. In my mind, it’s a job or a hobby in which you dress up in at least pseudo-historically accurate garb and do activities that fit the era of clothing, usually in front of the public for interpretation purposes. For me, it’s both a job and a hobby; I’m lucky to be able to get paid for dressing up at a historic site. Still, I must not get enough of it, because every so often I get the urge to do some re-enactment on my weekends as well.
There are things I love about historical re-enactment, clearly. At the forefront is probably the clothes. I like to call myself a historical costumer, and spend hours every week researching historic dresses, drooling over them, and then stitching away on my recreations. It’s always very satisfying to finish an outfit, be it a 1780s Robe à la Polonaise dress or a 1940s pantsuit, and then feel like I capture a bit of the past in what I make. By putting myself in past generations’ shoes, literally, I can feel a connection with history.
It’s more than a bit like playing dress up, certainly. The fun doesn’t stop there, though. All in the name of education, for both myself and the public, activities in historical re-enactment can range anywhere from cooking over an open hearth to practicing a 19th century British army bayonet exercise. After all, who doesn’t love chatting while spinning wool, or dancing the foxtrot to the World War II music of the Andrews Sisters?
I’d be the first to admit that there are some discomforts associated with historical re-enactment. Squeezing into a port-a-potty at an outdoor historic event while dressed in a costume that I slaved over for months is definitely high on that list. (Trust me, there’s not enough room to stand up in those huts, let alone struggle through endless layers of clothing, without letting some bit of silk touch the floor!) Expensive historical shoes get grass stained, and fabric-covered bonnets get rained on. Open-hearth cooking can get scorched enough to make you wish for a simple hot dog, and wind can get chilly when you’re miles from your puffy 21st century coat. Add this on top of speaking like a refined lady from 1810 when you just want to gab like a 2024 girl, and you can see what I mean.
I decided to take a day off this upcoming weekend and drive two hours away to attend a 1784-themed event. There will be historic cooking, cider pressing, and English country dancing. I have an outfit that will match the event, and since there aren’t many opportunities for re-enactment in Canada, I was eager to go. But then I came down with a cold, and there’s a 30% chance of showers that day according to Environment Canada. I’ve never driven that way before, and I don’t know the route. Driving in period clothing will be uncomfortable, and my shoes will definitely pinch after dancing. Will I still decide to go? I don’t know, but I have a feeling I will.
I was always shy as a child, and so I wonder now why I chose a hobby that does so much to drive me out of my comfort zone. The fun parts do a lot to tip the scales, of course. You learn a lot along the way, too; if it wasn’t for historical re-enactment, I wouldn’t now know what a fichu is or how Victorian soldiers marked time. I think some of the discomfort every re-enactor experiences—because I’m not the only one—is the realization that stepping into the past isn’t as easy as we sometimes think. We’re all used to the conventions of our own day and age, and through re-enactment, we get a glimpse, no matter how small, of life in a different time. And that’s why I’ll keep up this nerdiest of hobbies: because the past, no matter how uncomfortable, deserves to be remembered.
