21 Sept 97 
 
 
	Here we go a-wassailing... So I went to some "medieval faire"  
today up at the Cloisters.  Man, the place was bursting at the seams with  
authentic medieval fare; as Father John said, he and the other Dominicans  
would be the only people there in actual period costume.  The Dominican  
habit has been unchanged since the founding of the order in.. oh... 1100  
or so. 
 
	There were wenches-a-plenty along with others in stretch velour  
(who did not stretch their apparel overmuch).  There were attendees of the  
goth-type, who were notable in black and platform/high-high-heeled shoes  
(fun to watch them on the cobblestones), the satin-garbed of cone hats,  
gilded skirts and colorful codpieces, the burlap-garbed of which I saw  
none, the tartan-clad tiredly attempting the Highland Fling (I think they  
knew what they were doing, but too old to be terribly nimble.  They should  
do Tai Chi), one who was dressed in medieval Japanese clothes, but for the  
wrong gender, and of course the nylon-bedecked jesters.   
 
	The food was close to authentic as well, with the potato knishes  
hawked by a Bronx barker, fried dough with oh-so-light powdered sugar,  
genuine French Fries, chicken in a pita, and since we know those Irish  
monks got to the New World and back somehow, popcorn on a stick.   
 
	There was face-painting, Swedish massage, Mehndi (indian  
hand-painting), brass rubbing, writing with quills, lizards sold as tiny  
dragons, hair bands made of flowers.  What was most notable was the lack  
of body vermin and open sores.  Not to mention open sewers. 
 
	Perhaps they should have specified _whose_ medieval period. 
 
	Then there was, of course, entertainment.  The WWF of the period,  
supplied by beautifully tressed men of the Society of Creative Anachronism  
(or some such), doing hand-to-hand combat.  Or mace-to-sword.  And  
tilting, similarly.  That was more like WWF, with an emcee on mike goading  
the contestants to throw gauntlets at each other.  I was awaiting the call  
"Let's get ready to rrrrrrrrrrrumble!".  Alas, it did not come. 
 
	I half expected to see Miniver Cheevy there, I think I only saw  
his relatives, alas.  But of course, his relatives line the blocks of St.  
Mark's Place as well.  Perhaps he lives near me.