A Renaissance to Remember

There comes a time every year when Tallahassee locals flock to the fairgrounds, eager to indulge in the depths of kettle corn bags and nightly carnival rides. However, a new yearly tradition could be on the horizon, filled with fantasy, food, and knights in shining armor.

Join me as I roam the fields of The North Florida Renaissance Faire’s first debut in Tallahassee.

Restlessly in search of the perfect outfit, I recall my anticipation building for this festival with each thrift store I’d rummaged through. I am no stranger to cosplay, but this would be my first renaissance faire, and I, of course, wanted to look the part. Quickly, I forged an outfit around a red-toadstool hat and arrived at the front gates, sporting my best mushroom maiden attire with my partner by my side.

To my delight, I was greeted by the sight of several other attendees adorned in lace and linen; many layered skirts cinched by corsets and leather belts rattled by trinkets. However, I noticed some took to more whimsical garments as well, so it was not out of place to spot a few wings, tails or wizards among the crowd. Dressing up was not for the faint of heart though. I could tell that as the afternoon progressed, my survival would become increasingly dependent upon my partner’s decision to bring a shaded umbrella. I am forever thankful for his consideration under the sweltering Florida sun, as food and beverage lines were quick to become lengthy.

Up front draped a tapestry-like schedule and map that helped us lock down our group to view the upcoming jousting event. Though I preferred experiencing much of the fare through wandering, time was of the essence, and this was an event I couldn’t miss. We parked ourselves at a nearby vender tent, just as the herald announced the jousting opponents. The knights soon emerged with horses and lances boring and breaking against each other’s head-to-toe armor. I remember wincing and cheering with the crowd at each strike.

Dust blooms carried from the hooves of noble steeds leaked past the bleaches where we made our first purchase. Splayed in sets of ten across the table, my partner and his friend picked out a curved drinking horn that served as a gift and memento. Looking back, I raised an eyebrow at the price, though I was hardly innocent.

Gift holstered, we ventured into a tavern-like tent, run by local bar staff for water, mead, and ale. Somewhere nearby, a lute was always playing; its tunes drifted between dancing fairy cosplayers, children beating well armored knights, and local vendor tents selling goods. Recalling the tavern menu, most beverages had fanciful names like Dragon’s Elixir, Fairy Bathwater, and Forest Nymph. Amused by the names, we ordered all three and continued our walk around the faire.

It’s hard to sum up even just one visit, but the faire grounds buzzed with a kind of life I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Perhaps it was the nostalgia of going as a kid or the thrill of dressing up, but somewhere between the music and the mead, what stood out to me most was the people. It felt more like a convention. Not something that rolls in, sets up, and moves on, but an atmosphere shaped by people who genuinely want to be there and share a part of themselves. That’s what made a difference.