“ Discussion on traditional dress and costumes from around the globe. Whether it be dirndls, lederhosen, kilts or togas, we would love to hear from you! „
Obviously, there are always pluses and minuses with any national dress (by the way, do the English even *have* a national dress? And no, morris dancing costume is not what I mean.) The Welsh national dress - for women at least - was worn in day-to-day life until at least the latter half of the nineteenth century.
So, what is this dress? If you've seen a Welsh rugby match, you've probably seen it in the crowd. It's comprised of a warm black, red, or check skirt (to be honest, you can get away with pretty much any skirt,) a half-apron (of the kind worn by a stereotypical French maid,) a shawl (modern shawls are cotton but original shawls were usually wool, in a paisley-like (not quite paisley but that's the closest to it,) or check pattern.
And then there's the hat. The Welsh women's hat is a wonderful thing. It makes the costume. It's also literally repelled an army in the past. No, honestly - 'mam' stopped a French invasion with her hat some two hundred years ago (in Fishguard in 1797, with one lady personally capturing 12 of Napoleon's troops.) The traditional hat is puritanical in shape (think the Mayflower and American thanksgiving, only without the buckle,) black, and trimmed with lace and/or ribbon. It can also be easily mistaken (from a distance) for an old-fashioned soldier's hat - strange that. More recently, the half-bonnet (more of a Victorian style) has become intermittently popular when wearing national costume, but you could never get rid of an army with one of those - far too short.
As for the fellas, they have a sort of pseudo-costume - essentially, when St David's day comes around, all little boys are stuck into part-checked waistcoats and a Dai cap (a flat-cap, as worn by the miners and the farmers,) or stuffed unceremoniously into a Welsh rugby shirt while their parents help the girls with their aprons.
Halloween Costume Ideas
The explosion of amateur art is rife at Halloween, due to this I've concluded that a telepathic spectre from a 'Rocky Horror Show' production team from yester-year during the autumn months casts spells of ghastly costume designs to those who're prone to dressing up and deluded to think they're the 'Rembrandts of Revlon'. The occasion of horror is perfect for these types whose amateur visual displays are embraced wholeheartedly with ghastly, gory and grotesque in mind - hence, why this occasion is the world platform for the amateur to show their dire creations, thankfully talent isn't part of the parcel, the worse the visual display is, the better - plaudits even award it; well there is no limits to horror. Depicting grotesque, vile things is vital; the amateur is a master at creating horrors - horrific costumes, horrid visual make-up, a real catalogue of horrors. 'Two wrongs don't usually make a right', however at Halloween it does that's the point, and what a sight, especially at the end of the night, you get a fright when a much needed toilet visit is a vision of smudged black and reds. Yea, costumes don't exactly cater for the most common bodily requirement of urinating - Mummies don't urinate, or do large bean pods, pumpkins, any vegetation, witches, or broomsticks. The amateur designer generally forgets the most basic of human functions, of excreting fluids, while gathering up the materials, kick starting the 'Singer', drawing out the costume prototype and dealing with those intricate measurements. Done with a Shatterproof Ruler, so as it bends, you quickly learn the ruler isn't "shatterproof" - At this point the amateur pays attention to the fact that their body contours are a long way off from being angular, unlike the first blocked 1953 'Gumby' animation. After realizing your dream of morphing yourself into a cat suit is all well and good, until that is.. it dawns on cat-women whilst sucking up a 'Sauvignon Blanc' via two straws, in an attempt to avoid the whiskers created by disabling the purpose of a 'Daler Rowney' paintbrush - peeing is necessary. Odd considering a consumption of food and beverages often takes place at such occasions and therefore liquids will pass through within a certain time-frame; food and liquid frequency pending.
Our fascination with the grotesque and peculiar isn't just for October 31st either, you don't have to go out of your way to look for inspiration - the grotesque and peculiar are evident in every city centre on a pavement or a box, standing motionless; the profoundness derives when crowds stand and watch the stillness - the activity is like watching gold paint dry, literary; alas, their long-winded observation is to get ideas for costumes - the staring ritual ends abruptly as they move to take a quick picture on their handheld devices. Other amusements obstructs my walking pleasure such as a waving Alice in wonderland rabbit riding an exercise bike that blows bubbles, a moon walking Michael Jackson who looks as if he's walked out of a crypt, he operates in a cordoned off pavement area of six foot by six foot; a frosty looking 1980's 'Ghetto Blaster' plays 'Billie Jean' - his mechanical moves smooth and not rusty the only giveaway he'd not really been in a crypt for four years. Street performers invade pavements but are harmless, and a good source of inspiration for the gaggle of onlookers who take on a career to block those who are late. They've the time to plan for weeks their Halloween costume - look for inspiration, get the materials, design it, measure themselves and talk about it and then make it - all for that one night. At least the street performers wear their outfits more than once and get some kind of monetary reprisal for their efforts. I comprehend their performance on the streets on the premise an army of street performers must've gone to street performing college to master their art-form - when they appear in front of you in a Costa queue, you realize statues also require hydration.
How quickly you denote these beings are objects, and therefore don't require watering or One of the most unique yet creative costumes I've witnessed is a thin girl dressed as a melting urinal; done in the style of Salvador Dali's melting clocks; 'The Persistence of Memory'. Surrealism entering the fold; she'd embraced Velcro like no other - her face, neck and arms resembled male toilet wall-tiling, her detailing was admirable and well researched. Certainly wasn't 'bog standard' - the plug was strategically placed and what impressed me most was even I knew how she could remove herself from the costume - all functions covered. No bladder cramp suffering is necessary, worth a note for those who annually wear bin bags and tend to squelch in their own perspiration to look stupid. Their pathetic efforts make me want to remove them from the vicinity and place them into the recycling bin for household waste. There is nothing worse than being adjacent to a 'sweaty Betty' at a bar, who noisily leaves pools of herself and smears it over a bar and insists on sharing her effluvia. Why do they put themselves through this every year? Why don't they just spray paint themselves black and call themselves a 'house fire victim?' Better still, stand on a black box in a middle of a street and remain motionless, you may get a pittance for your trouble. This is not a captious opinion but a result of years of observations that'll aid the would-be-bin-liner-wearer of needless self-harming and gross social misconduct - same applies with the nincompoops who run marathons attired as a large chicken for charity, they're idiocy is a risk to themselves and a drain on the societal purse.
The Irish eccentric Abraham Stoker the creator of 'Dracula', known as 'Bram' because obviously a four lettered first name is far more marketable than a seven lettered first name. He would have thoroughly enjoyed life in twenty first century. He'd be reveling at the vileness of what he'd created; "look what I've created, he'd boast!" His Irish eccentricities in today's social climate is incredibly sane; everything is relative, sadly madness is highly infectious so thanks to Americanisms I suspect the army of the grotesque will be out in force yet again dripping unsightly bodily fluids that'll make me gag into my double 'Glenfidditch' - naturally, I'll slip into the shadows of the night where it is safe from Bram Stoker's 'Vam-kind'.