A few weeks ago I found myself, all dolled up, at the grand banquet of a Jane Austen Society conference, and I think I might have peaked right then. All around the room, authentic regency dresses swished and tight little curls spilled daintily out of intricate updos. Glasses clinked and laughter rang out over a playlist that was primarily the soundtracks to various Jane Austen movies with Bridgerton, Outlander and Strauss waltzes thrown in, despite their historical inaccuracy, when they thought we wouldn’t notice. We feasted on pleasantly flavorless dishes that I’m sure would have tickled the fancy of Miss Austen herself.
I always thought I enjoyed Jane Austen as much as the next person. In middle school, I read almost all of her books, and my mom and I have seen the 1995 Pride and Prejudice too many times to count over the last five years. My friend and our moms spent the summer before eighth grade going to a historical home nearby our houses and watching a different movie every week in the backyard. We’d sit on picnic blankets and debate the various attributes of Jane Austen’s heroes. My friend liked Mr. Knightley from Emma the best. My favorite was Edmund from Mansfield Park. At the conference, I learned just how deep Jane Austen obsessions could go. I also discovered that I knew about as much as the other moderately educated but no less enthusiastic participants.
The conference lasted a weekend and took place at a hotel overlooking our own Baltimore Harbor. Jane Austen nerds, usually appearing in large groups of young women or smaller groups of older women with the occasional delighted husband tagging along, could go to talks about Regency society, fashion or literature. They could take a deeper dive into her novels than even Miss Austen may have in talks about word-choice, Jane’s reading list, and so much more. Between sessions they could stop by pop-up stores that had been erected in the smaller ballrooms. One was full of books about the era, women in literature, the Austen family, and Jane Austen heroes. The authors of many of these could be seen wandering around the hotel in full regency garb. In another room was a tailor shop where you could buy historically accurate dresses, hats, gloves, jewelry and lots and lots of feathers.
That particular weekend I had a concert and several upcoming major assignments due, so I figured I’d spend my days hanging around the hotel, and I’d catch a few sessions if I could. Instead, I was completely sucked in.
I learned about the constant use of the word ‘very’ in Emma (and why it's ok for her to do it and no one else). I listened to two women discuss the sexual undertones I’m sure Miss Austen didn’t mean to put into Northanger Abbey. I browsed books about Jane Austen’s favorite nephew and religion in her very specific region of England, and realized that even beyond all the fun costumes, I was in a world I hadn’t ever seen before.
I can’t remember the last time I did something beyond a movie night or something like that simply because it was enjoyable. I’m studying voice and creative writing because I enjoy both disciplines (certainly not for the paycheck), but most of the choices I make about those two areas of interest are building towards higher goals. I sing in competitions and take auditions because I want to beef up my resume for grad school. I network whenever I can because you never know when someone might lend a helping hand that furthers your career along. I make so many decisions so that as many avenues as possible may be left open to me in the future. This hotel full of Austenites, at least for that weekend, had no such cares. They skipped work and spent money on plane tickets and hotel rooms and who knows what else, all because Jane Austen had impacted their lives in some way and meant something to them. There was nothing to win or gain from this experience on paper. In practice it was the purest love of learning I have ever seen. It was as pure as the love churchgoers are supposed to have for Christ without the fear of Hell to motivate the less convinced.
After the banquet, there was a ball. People poured into a ballroom where a string quintet played all night. A man with a microphone shouted out the steps to various line dances, but it was clear to me that many people knew all the dances by heart.
When I left there were people in regency gowns congregating in the lobby. The few people in 21st century clothes barely seemed to notice them as they rushed to wherever they needed to be. I’m sure I would usually be just as unobservant as they were, but I’m grateful to Jane Austen for helping me to be part of such a beautiful community, even if it was only for a few days.
