At 11:30 a.m., the parking lot at La Plata County Fairgrounds was packed to the gills. Several latecomers were forced to leave their cars at the Durango Recreation Center and teeter over to the Fairgrounds in thigh-high leather boots with 3-inch heels. Though three such stragglers were seen walking along the highway, motorists seemed to understand that their attire was simply part of Snowdown, with none pulling over to inquire about hourly rates.
By noon inside the Fairgrounds, the bar was overrun by hordes of vaguely sober adults. Judging from costumes, sartorial commitment to this year’s steampunk theme was nearly total.
For instance, due to the ubiquity of non-prescription goggles, many vision-impaired festival-goers found it hard to physically maneuver, causing scores of people to bump into tables, chairs and fellow guests.
As in previous years, little of what happened at this year’s Do’s and Don’ts can be printed in a family newspaper.
Many older men sported monocles, black waistcoats and chunky gold jewelry, looking as Mr. Monopoly might if his portfolio of properties consisted solely of brothels.
As usual, breasts – a traditional area of strength for Snowdown costumes – loomed large at Do’s and Don’ts.
Indeed, thanks to innumerable corsets, La Plata County Fairgrounds boasted its own indoor mountain range.
The haberdashery on display at Do’s and Don’ts was exceptional. Looking over the crowd’s attire, for every two threadbare breasts – and, again, these were numerous – there were at least three heads bedecked with architecturally impressive hats – some tiny, some tall, some feathered, some Victorian-era, some top hats and a small but assertive minority of bowlers.
Reader Comments