K(NAC)kered

This was the view out my window last Friday:

So for the next three days, this was my best friend:

I was not the only one gasping for breath in the trapped smog, the result of a temperature inversion that apparently is pretty common in Salt Lake City December through February. Wish I could have added yet another piece of gear, an extra (clean) air supply. That might look like this?

Air Quality Dress by Dominque Paul

Note to USFA--maybe avoid holding NACs in SLC during the winter months? Please?

Problematic breathing aside, a good time was had by most (if not all). 

On to the fashion coverage.

This gentleman seemed to be geared up for the October NAC, but whatever.

Baltimore Fencing Center's Pam Dressel models mask-cords-as-fashion-accessories:

(Note the new Coaching Credentials, including spiffy lanyard, which have the added benefit of letting you check in at all competitions for the coming year and eliminates the need for the stupid adhesive admissions wristbands. Which itch. And fall off.)

Spotted on the warm-up strip:

While colorful, this seems like a great way to put a hole in your club jacket.

Epeeist Michele Bodon (Northwest Fencing Center) gets bonus points for not only creatively mismatched socks, but mismatched shoes.

Russ Cain, also of BFC, sported the latest functional fencing accessory--the "brain hat." Guaranteed to improve your strategic thinking between bouts. (Wait, might it fit UNDER the mask?)

 

Absolute Fencing's Lewis Vaden found a "Lexington Legends" baseball cap that echoes his mustache. 

The phrase "gloriously bewhiskered" comes to mind.

Vet Foil fencer Anne-Marie Walters shows off her World Veteran Fencing Championships t-shirt. (Anne-Marie has fenced in every Vet Worlds competition from 2006 on. #WOW.)

Referee power fashion. (If being an official isn't intimidating enough, wear skulls.) 

Cutest spectator. Even if he is a badger hound

(What, you thought I meant the dude? :)

Finally, a diptych of Vet Women fencers, courtesy of the Utah Museum of Fine Arts:

On the left, Gemin Channing, my teammate from Rockville Fencing Academy. That's me on the right. (We wanted to pose with our foils, but smuggling them into the museum seemed...problematic.)

Follow the new @fencingfashionista account on Instagram to keep up with the latest styles in our sport. 

Until St. Louis, salute!

It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World(s)

Just got back from Cairo. Finished unpacking and now I'm sorting through myriad photos documenting fencing fashion at the Veteran World Championships

Rita Comes accepted a certificate recognizing the US for
fielding the largest team at the event. (We also led the medal count, with a
total of 22 podium finishes, including 6 gold.)

The venue was a rainbow of international color. After much consideration, I award the Australian team highest marks for both team colors and team mascot.

Though I think this 'roo is wearing boxing gloves!
#wrongsport

Britain takes second place for "colors most easily spotted across a crowded venue"

The Italians were stylish (of course) though I was initially very puzzled by one of the logos on their uniforms

 

Which looked to me like the classic American "mudflap girls" but is in fact the logo of the fashion company and fencing sponsor Kappa. (Now I want a fashion fencing sponsor. Leads welcome.)

The french team sported matching socks. (I was told that in team events, all the fencers' socks have to match. I like to think this is because the FIE realizes that anything is cuter in multiples--but probably not.)

Often the t-shirts were even better than the uniforms.

The Netherlands won on the t-shirt front, having created a bespoke "fence like an Egyptian" design in orange (the color of the Dutch royal family). 

They should have brought extras--they could have traded these shirts for ANYTHING.

While the US uniforms were a demure grey, our team blinged them out with a great selection of pins. Check out the selection amassed by team armorer Kathy Walters:

Note the badger pin in the upper left.
*Ahem*

Kathy also wins for best hat, though this Russian gentleman sported a very fashionable head rag:

Other highlights include most colorful uniform:

Most flamboyant stenciling. (I'm pretty sure this is technically illegal, but extra points for getting away with it.)

Coolest way to carry a country's flag colors on the strip (the Italians again, 'natch):

Cutest spectators

Strangest fencing mash-up. (Hello Kitty, really?):

 And best fencing tattoo. Certainly the best at this competition. Possibly best ever?

The Japanese delegation swept the fashion awards for the Gala on Wednesday night

Alan Garmonsway captured Gala fashion silver for Great Britain with his kilt and sporran:

Though US V50 WE fencer Valerie Asher (right, below, with Brazil's Claudia da Costa) was pretty dang elegant.

Next up on Fashionista, I'll share some observations on prepping for Vet World Championships, and run through what to expect at the event for those of you who will find yourself navigating international waters in coming years. Perhaps Croatia in 2020?

Team Colors

I know this lady named Jane McGonigal who studies how to channel positive attitudes and improve people’s lives through good games design.  Jane’s pegged four characteristics that go into making a good game:

1)  Clear rules

2) Good feedback

3) The chance to spend time with people you like, and

4) Feeling part of something bigger

Whooping it up with Anne-Marie Walters
on her birthday at the March NAC, 2015

Fencing nails the first three. Well, you might quibble about the rules regarding foil right of way being “clear,” but they certainly are out there in digital ink to be poured over and debated. And coaches and referees, bless them, certainly provide copious feedback. Spending time with people I like (and would not otherwise see), is sufficient motivation to endure the long slog through airports to get to NACs. 

But part of something bigger? For me, not so much. Maybe to the extent that I rep my club (go RFA!) when I make it to the podium. But this year, as an accidental by-product of trying to renew my B (and falling short) I made the Vet World Team.

Which launched all sorts of predictable anxieties about travel, and as well as a quite unexpected internal conflict about fencing fashion and what it means to be “part of something bigger” when that bigger thing is Team USA.

I have a complicated relationship with patriotism. I’m deeply grateful that the US took in my paternal grandparents, pretty much penniless and unskilled, when they decamped Russia just ahead of the Cossacks in 1905. I appreciate that the porous boundaries of class in mid 20^thcentury America made it possible for my maternal grandfather to go from barefoot farm boy guiding a plow in the Texas panhandle to professor of English at Phillips Exeter Academy. But I also came of age during the Vietnam war, dragged by my parents through protests in DC when I was barely old enough to keep up with the marchers. Taking flack in grade school for the fact that I shut up when we came to the “under god” part in the pledge of allegiance. And seeing my father nod approval when Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised gloved fists on the podium at the 1968 Olympics. 

As the national anthem played at the 1968 Olympics,
sprinters Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised their
fists to the sky. (Victoria Walker/The Washington Post)

The upshot of which is, I’ve never been much of one to wave the flag. I appreciate the lull at the beginning of competitions when we pause warm up for the national anthem. On the other hand  this patch—from a gift bag given to ladies on the podium at some past NAC—has been tucked in my sock drawer for about ten years because I wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Sometimes kids at my club would ask why I didn’t stencil “USA” on my lamé, and I’d say “well, if I ever fence outside the US, I’ll put it on then.” Now the joke’s on me—I had to ship my competition lamé to Oregon so Marx Enterprises could add three letters below my name. 

That sartorial addition was required by FIE rules (as was a new mask with the double-fastening strap—see below). Note that it has already acquired badgerous embellishments.

But there are many, many choices of optional gear related to being on the team, and I’ve found myself falling down a fencing fashion rabbit hole, prompted by the fact that I suddenly do feel “part of something bigger.” Probably amplified by the serotonin hit of online shopping that somewhat eases my anxieties about the whole venture.

For example, I felt MUCH BETTER about the prospect of a 12-hour flight to Cairo when I unwrapped this glove from Zzuma.

I’d long admired Zzuma’s butter-soft, beautifully designed gloves, but had never felt able to justify the expense. I’m trying not to read too much into the fact that after a just a few weeks it developed a tear in the palm, necessitating a repair and adding to my long anxiety list the fear it might not pass inspection. Sigh. (I hear a chorus of parsimonious ancestors whispering, “serves you right.”)

And the team bag. I told myself I really did need a new competition bag. My stalwart, 10-year old Leon Paul team bag (in fashionable black, adorned with badger patches) has developed a distinct list that frequently makes it tip over when I’m attempting to pull it, fully loaded, through the airport or down city sidewalks to the venue. Even though Absolute is the team sponsor (thank you Absolute! Sending you fencer love) after much deliberation I ordered the glorious, ostentatious, over-the-top Leon Paul Team USA bag, with its full in-your-face “I’m on the f$%*ing world team” design. 

Boo-ya. Just looking at it makes me feel almost competent.

Almost. But I’m still struggling with a fair case of imposter syndrome. I mean, I did earn this, but it’s not like I’m made the freaking Olympic team. On the other hand, I deeply admire the badass ladies who comprise the rest of the team and am in awe of their accomplishments. So maybe I should feel ok about myself, too? 

While I struggle with that thought, I’m systematically working my way down the long, long list of logistical prep. Booking tickets, applying for a visa, getting stuck with multiple needles (gotta love those vaccinations). Oh, and sewing phenomenally huge USA patches onto my knickers. (That’s an FIE requirement as well). 

And temporarily removing one of my beloved badger patches from the back pocket of my knickers, since it covers the FIE “800 newtons” certification mark.

And sewing suspenders onto said knickers. (I always cut them off because HELLO!  With a 10-inch differential between waist and hips, these pants are not falling off. But technically required, so back on the elastic goes.)

In the end, I feel ok about my shopping spree because it’s a strategic part of shaping the story of “Badger Goes to Cairo.” Memories are grounded in materiality. Mementos anchor shards of experience that might otherwise slip away. This adventure could be memorable for stuff that goes horrible wrong—lost bags, bad experiences with cabs or ride shares, accidentally eating gluten and making myself sick. Embarrassing myself on the strip. (May none of these happen! Knock on wood, spit and throw salt over my shoulder.)

Hopefully these fashion keepsakes will ground the good memories. The fact that I did earn my way onto the team. The love and support offered by my friends and teammates. And the fact that, at least for this year, I do feel part of something bigger. And dang, it feels good.

Vet 60 Women's Foil World Team 2019
From left: Jude Offerle, Anne-Marie Walters,Jennette Starks-Faulkner, Badger Merritt