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All in a day's work
Jul. 31st, 2006 03:04 pmI'll tell you up front: the lesson in this story is to never wash your faerie uniform with your partner’s black t-shirts.
This past Saturday was my annual day of employment for the local Faerie Queen. I was half in uniform already when I left my house for the commute to Headquarters. My burgandy and gold shredded skirt fluttered around my knees in the front and down around my calves and ankles in the back as I strode through the park to the SkyTrain. I decided to carry my wings (pictured in my icon) rather then wear them, both for their protection on public transportation and to indicate my off-duty status. I also had a small gym bag of make-up, accessories and snacks. No one seemed to even look at my outfit strangely; perhaps they are used to faerie commuters in that part of town.
I was on time. Faeries are not known for their timeliness, so I was one of the first to get to Headquarters. I had much more time to get ready then I could ever have needed for myself, but there was no shortage of tasks:
"Could someone sunscreen my back?"
"How do you think I should attach these wings?"
"Here, I'll hold them in place so we can get the right strap length."
"Could you hold this mirror," she holds up a tiny hand mirror, "so I can apply my lashes?" (I don't make a great vanity, by the way – too unsteady. But she did manage to get the lashes on anyway.)
"Your wings are crooked," to the tall fae with the French-maid wings (black with white lace trim; he looked cute), "just hold on while I fix that."
I spent the rest of my extra time re-applying sunscreen and glitter to my bare skin. I was pretty thoroughly glittered by the time the Queen was ready and the entire troop of Topless Wish Faeries was assembled.
It was cooler this year then previous years, but that felt pretty pleasant after the heat wave of the last couple of weeks. We paraded to Lost Lake at about 5 PM.
We always attract a sort of shy curiosity, where people try to watch us without making eye contact, or try to take pictures without us noticing. The work, and the fun, starts when we find someone with a wish.
"A wish! A wish! We've got a wish here!"
The faeries circle the wisher and the Faerie Queen.
"First, the rules," the Queen commands.
In a rough chorus, we recite the official rules of wishing with the Topless Wish Faeries: "Nothing greedy! Nothing silly! Nothing dirty!"
"And no tofu!" comes a call from elsewhere in the circle.
"Faerie magic has no power over tofu," the Queen explains.
"Do I have to tell you my wish?" most first time wishers ask.
"Of course!" with much eye-rolling and exaggerated sighs, "We can't grant your wish if we don’t know what it is!"
When the wisher first offers their wish, the Queen will usually do some negotiations. This is often for their own good, as few seem to realize how tricky faerie magic is.*
"I wish to be happy forever," one person declares.
"We could do that. You could be in a bus accident tomorrow and suffer a brain injury that leaves you in a permanent state of bliss."
Sometimes the Queen must berate someone for breaking the rules:
"I wish for world peace."
"That's silly. People have to make peace, not just wish for it."
Once the negotiations are complete, the Queen declares that they will get their wish and the faeries loudly send magic into the wish, then the troop moves on to seek the next person in need of magic. We leave behind us a trail of bemused folks with their picnic baskets and digital pictures. I'm sure my breasts are all over the Internet by now.
It took us almost two hours to get around the lake, blessing babies (born and potential) and puppies, covering people in glitter^, listening to Banjo-Pirate Faerie's great Topless Faerie theme song, singing, and granting wishes.
Russ picked me up at Headquarters. Though it is legal for women to go topless in Vancouver, it isn't very common, so, to avoid causing traffic accidents, I removed my wings and yanked a shirt on over my very glittery torso. Home to pizza for this very hungry and hard-working fae. I then zoned out on the couch and could not be roused for Illuminares.
Sunday was laundry day. Without thinking, I dumped my cover-up t-shirt and my uniform in the washing machine along with Russ' work shirts. Now all his shirts sparkle slightly with very fine gold glitter. Two rinses, and it still isn't gone. I'm line-drying in the basement; maybe the glitter will magically fall out when everything's dry. Unfortunately, I don't think faerie magic can help with this.
*Did these people never read fairy tales?
^A woman wished for glitter - silly mortal! I was the only one carrying this year: extremely fine gold glitter. I dumped a salt shaker full on her. She won't have to wish for glitter next year; she will still have it caught in her jacket.
This past Saturday was my annual day of employment for the local Faerie Queen. I was half in uniform already when I left my house for the commute to Headquarters. My burgandy and gold shredded skirt fluttered around my knees in the front and down around my calves and ankles in the back as I strode through the park to the SkyTrain. I decided to carry my wings (pictured in my icon) rather then wear them, both for their protection on public transportation and to indicate my off-duty status. I also had a small gym bag of make-up, accessories and snacks. No one seemed to even look at my outfit strangely; perhaps they are used to faerie commuters in that part of town.
I was on time. Faeries are not known for their timeliness, so I was one of the first to get to Headquarters. I had much more time to get ready then I could ever have needed for myself, but there was no shortage of tasks:
"Could someone sunscreen my back?"
"How do you think I should attach these wings?"
"Here, I'll hold them in place so we can get the right strap length."
"Could you hold this mirror," she holds up a tiny hand mirror, "so I can apply my lashes?" (I don't make a great vanity, by the way – too unsteady. But she did manage to get the lashes on anyway.)
"Your wings are crooked," to the tall fae with the French-maid wings (black with white lace trim; he looked cute), "just hold on while I fix that."
I spent the rest of my extra time re-applying sunscreen and glitter to my bare skin. I was pretty thoroughly glittered by the time the Queen was ready and the entire troop of Topless Wish Faeries was assembled.
It was cooler this year then previous years, but that felt pretty pleasant after the heat wave of the last couple of weeks. We paraded to Lost Lake at about 5 PM.
We always attract a sort of shy curiosity, where people try to watch us without making eye contact, or try to take pictures without us noticing. The work, and the fun, starts when we find someone with a wish.
"A wish! A wish! We've got a wish here!"
The faeries circle the wisher and the Faerie Queen.
"First, the rules," the Queen commands.
In a rough chorus, we recite the official rules of wishing with the Topless Wish Faeries: "Nothing greedy! Nothing silly! Nothing dirty!"
"And no tofu!" comes a call from elsewhere in the circle.
"Faerie magic has no power over tofu," the Queen explains.
"Do I have to tell you my wish?" most first time wishers ask.
"Of course!" with much eye-rolling and exaggerated sighs, "We can't grant your wish if we don’t know what it is!"
When the wisher first offers their wish, the Queen will usually do some negotiations. This is often for their own good, as few seem to realize how tricky faerie magic is.*
"I wish to be happy forever," one person declares.
"We could do that. You could be in a bus accident tomorrow and suffer a brain injury that leaves you in a permanent state of bliss."
Sometimes the Queen must berate someone for breaking the rules:
"I wish for world peace."
"That's silly. People have to make peace, not just wish for it."
Once the negotiations are complete, the Queen declares that they will get their wish and the faeries loudly send magic into the wish, then the troop moves on to seek the next person in need of magic. We leave behind us a trail of bemused folks with their picnic baskets and digital pictures. I'm sure my breasts are all over the Internet by now.
It took us almost two hours to get around the lake, blessing babies (born and potential) and puppies, covering people in glitter^, listening to Banjo-Pirate Faerie's great Topless Faerie theme song, singing, and granting wishes.
Russ picked me up at Headquarters. Though it is legal for women to go topless in Vancouver, it isn't very common, so, to avoid causing traffic accidents, I removed my wings and yanked a shirt on over my very glittery torso. Home to pizza for this very hungry and hard-working fae. I then zoned out on the couch and could not be roused for Illuminares.
Sunday was laundry day. Without thinking, I dumped my cover-up t-shirt and my uniform in the washing machine along with Russ' work shirts. Now all his shirts sparkle slightly with very fine gold glitter. Two rinses, and it still isn't gone. I'm line-drying in the basement; maybe the glitter will magically fall out when everything's dry. Unfortunately, I don't think faerie magic can help with this.
*Did these people never read fairy tales?
^A woman wished for glitter - silly mortal! I was the only one carrying this year: extremely fine gold glitter. I dumped a salt shaker full on her. She won't have to wish for glitter next year; she will still have it caught in her jacket.
