All steamed up

A visit to Virginia City on a Saturday in September thrusts you into an elaborately costumed event of fantastical visual proportions—even for the notoriously quirky Wild West town of Virginia City. A parade is just wrapping-up, which isn’t unusual for the streets on a weekend. But this was no ordinary Virginia City historic parade with mufflers and donkeys.

Look to the left. Participants wander the streets in Victorian garb. Look to the right, a giant mechanical land-based submarine fish—the Nautilus—has just finished wheeling down the main street, firing water from its harpoon water cannon while blasting techno beats, intermixed with the occasional sounds of a working submarine—the ping of a radar, the ring of a diving alarm. And the Victorian garb of the parade participants typical to the history-rich town has been seemingly sucked through a time machine. Those mufflers have been transformed to rayguns.

Futuristic embellishments like aviation goggles and clockwork gears, melded with imaginative inspirations like metallic fairy wings and light-up gadgets, have been fashioned to classic 19th century garments to which various alterations have been made. Modest, floor-grazing skirts typical of the time period have been replaced by short, crimson versions overlaying black fishnet stockings. Bird-beaked masks constructed from leather, reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange, cover select faces, adding to the dream-like scenario.

Suddenly, amid the applause of the parade’s crowd, you hear the shouts of a protest. As a league of belly dancers shake their way down the street, matching the sway of their exposed hips to the beat of accompanying Middle Eastern drums, a group of Victorian “purists” shield their eyes and yell out in response to the seemingly risqué dancers, “Close your children’s eyes! Don’t let your husbands look!”

You rub your eyes and blink hard. How many of those Bloody Marys did you down at the Bucket of Blood—and were they dosed? Intrigued, you find yourself venturing further into the wormhole. You follow the elaborately garbed denizens up the hill to Piper’s Opera House, where the scene only becomes more surreal.

This is not a drug-induced hallucination or a trippy dream. You’ve stumbled upon the sci-fi counterculture of steampunk, and this is the local chapter High Desert Steam’s Third Annual Victorian Steampunk Ball. Welcome. Costumes are admired, not required.

High Desert Steam, a local group of steampunk enthusiasts, got its start in 2010 with the origination of the Victorian Steampunk Ball. The ball was conjured up in response to the need for a grand finale to Sacramento Steampunk Society’s annual steam engine train ride. In the past, the Sacramento group would invite the Reno costume crowd along to celebrate their shared interest in steam engines by riding the V&T railroad from Carson City up to Virginia City, where they’d then wander around, take a few pictures and call it a day.

“It felt anticlimactic,” Willie Puchert, one of three Victorian Steampunk Ball founding members and co-chair to High Desert Steam, says of the decision to put on a ball to complement the steam train ride.

The inaugural ball was simple, a scaled down version of the live bands, organized dancing, vendors and performances that it features today. Hosted at Piper’s Opera House, it had the provided historic setting for support.

“It was pretty minimum,” recalls Lauren Reeser, the original chair of the ball. “There was only prerecorded music and buffet tables—it was pretty bare bones, a rough draft. But people came and dressed up.” She’s also founder of Great Basin Costume Society and owner of online retailer American Duchess Historical Footwear.

About 150 people dressed up for that first ball, and High Desert Steam has seen that number increase since, climbing to 250 the following year, and this year topping out at nearly 350, a number that could have been higher if the event hadn’t reached capacity.

“This year we sold out,” Puchert recalls. “We had to send a media advisory out saying please stop publicizing it because we couldn’t go over capacity at Piper’s.”

While High Desert Steam and steampunk may seem as though they just dropped out of the sky from an airship, the term “steampunk” dates back to the late 1980s, with its roots in sci-fi literature. And although the word, devised as a means to describe speculative Victorian era fiction, may not have been used previously, the genre itself can be linked back as early as 1870 with the often steampunk-designated Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.

That’s the when, but as for the where the term came from, writer G.D. Falksen offers some insight. Falksen, who has written novels in the genre, as well as penned essays for events such as the Steampunk Art Exhibit at the Museum of the History of Science at Oxford, has become a face of steampunk thanks to speeches at multiple countercultural events. (Search Wikipedia for “steampunk,” and yeah, that’s him in the picture wearing a mechanical arm—no big deal.) He explains the “steam” part over email correspondence.

“Steam is indicative of the industrial 19th and early 20th centuries, and it’s essentially used as a shorthand for industrial age technology,” he writes. “And the reason for that period’s technology is that it is so similar to our own, and yet it’s still less advanced, which makes it fascinating.”

And as for the punk? Mary Crawley, the third founder of the Victorian Steampunk Ball and head of High Desert Steam, says it relates to the subculture today: “Punk implies a moving away from the norm, and in Western Victorian England, you wouldn’t wear the stuff we’re wearing, you wouldn’t do the things we’re doing. We’re wearing corsets on the outside, showing our ankles. … We consider ourselves modern, but we’re looking back at this past because it was elaborate. It made the world a more formal, beautiful place. But we’re not going to go back there and deal with the classism, the racism, and the sexism—punk pulls us out of that. We’re not following the rules, and punk doesn’t follow the rules.”

Part of the ball’s appeal, aside from the ideal setting, is the unique aspects its organizers have brought to the dance floor. One in particular is the addition of the simplified version of square dancing: contra dance. Keeping in tradition with its early English roots, contra is a called dance form, but there is little to no footwork, and it’s performed in long lines with quick and multiple partner switches.

“It’s easy for people who haven’t done any dancing,” Crawley explains of her rationale for meshing the dance style into the steampunk world. “It’s quick to learn. … You can still do contra wrong, but people just laugh. Steampunk is so informal and so unregulated that I thought contra dance would be great.”

Tapping into Sierra Contra Dance Society’s local community, Crawley acquired the traditional Appalachian bluegrass band 6 Mule Pile-Up, a main fixture on the contra dance scene, to play at 2011’s ball. Despite being novices to the steampunk culture, they matched-up so well they were asked back for this year’s round, and are already tagged for 2014.

“We play old time music which is from the Victorian era—but we don’t have much in the realm of futuristic flair,” says Andy Knust, bass player of 6 Mule Pile Up.

“We didn’t know anything about steampunk when Mary first contacted us … but we did some research and pulled some costumes together for the first year. This past September we had a better idea of what to prepare for, and we improved upon our costumes. … It’s a lot of fun because we get to be in an old opera house, and it’s not too hard to imagine that we’re transported to some Victorian sci-fi scene.”

Along with local bands being brought into the steampunk craze (local Slow Djinn Fez is also a ball fixture), local retailers are also seeing the effects of the subculture and High Desert Steam’s annual ball’s growing popularity. Clothing and costumes boutiques like Melting Pot World Emporium and PolyEsther’s Costume Boutique have taken notice and responded accordingly. The Melting Pot’s current website features an ad on its homepage for its Steampunk items, which include goggles and dust-masks. And PolyEsther’s enthusiastically participates in the subculture’s rise via custom costume design for not only the ball, but steampunk-themed parties and weddings.

“In the last year, we have designed three steampunk weddings,” says Esther Dunaway, owner and designer at PolyEsther’s. “That’s kind of a big deal as far as revenue goes.”

In regard to the ball’s specific revenue effects: “We do a lot more sales on accessories because a lot of steampunkers like to make their own costumes,” Dunaway says of steampunk’s DIY element. “Even though [steampunk] has been around for awhile—Reno has recently really embraced it.”

Dustin Bacon, High Desert Steam member and director of 2014’s Victorian Steampunk Ball, agrees with Dunaway’s observation of the local steampunk scene’s spike, particularly in reference to the ball’s ever growing attendance.

“There’s been a significant jump between each [ball],” Bacon says. “I have no doubt that it’s going to continue. The momentum is still building.”

Perhaps contributing to steampunk’s local popularity are its close ties to the fellow DIY costume-crazed culture of Burning Man. The aforementioned Victorian Steampunk Ball parade star, the Nautilus—an art car designed by Oakland-based artist collective Five Ton Crane—was originally intended for use at the Black Rock Desert’s annual event. The hydraulically driven submarine serves as a testament to the perfect couple that steampunk and Burning Man make.

Along with the Nautilus, other steampunk inspired installation vehicles such as “The Treehouse,” also designed by Five Ton Crane, and the three-story Victorian house on wheels the “Neverwas Haul,” designed by Obtainium Works, made great impressions at Burning Man, where the DIY society-of-the-future theme runs rampant, and goggles and dust-masks are a necessity, not just a fashion statement.

“Both cultures really thrive on how you can create new works that use existing artifacts and technologies and change them into something fantastic,” Bacon says.

Another testament to steampunk’s popularity is the growth of High Desert Steam’s other main annual events—the Steampunk Expo and YuleSteam. Having already burst the seams of its previous venues, YuleSteam is being held Dec. 13, at the 1864 Tavern on California Avenue. The steampunk/Victorian-themed holiday party features parlor games, raffle, and a toy drive benefiting local charity Christmas on the Corridor.

The Steampunk Expo, which was originally designed as a fundraiser for the ball, has since developed into an event of its own. This year, it was held at Sparks Heritage Museum, with a steampunk fashion show stationed at the train across the street in Victoria Square. The venue was an upgrade from 2012, which was held at the Unitarian Universalist Church in southwest Reno. The change was necessary to cater to both the crowd and length, which was doubled and drawn out in order to accommodate the large vending bazaar, workshops, and fashion show. The expo acts not only as a booster for the ball’s finances, but for steampunk’s general interest as well, encouraging newcomers to the scene to try it on for size.

The expo’s workshops are specifically geared toward people just getting into the genre, according to Bacon. They provide how-to lessons any good steampunk should know—such as shaving with a straight razor for the men, where volunteers are accepted from the audience and shaved by an instructor, and “Garters: an introduction to hosiery,” for the women, so they can learn how to create looks which are historically accurate yet merge with modern steampunk attire.

In its second year, the expo is just getting started. Bacon and fellow High Sierra Steam members help build awareness for it by using other local events which fall before it. And they do so in pure steampunk style.

At a recent craft fair, a friend’s stand got a steamy make-over when Puchert and a few fellow steampunkers arrived in full costumed attire and proceeded to host a flash mob tea party—providing sites as well as sales for the stand. And at this year’s Earth Day at Idlewild Park, Bacon decided to take advantage of the event’s supplied crowds.

“I was promoting the expo and dressed in a steampunk inspired outfit,” Bacon explains. “A lot of people approached me wanting to know why I was dressed like that and wanted to compliment [the outfit], saying they had heard about steampunk, but had never seen it up close.”

As for the common response Bacon receives from people on wanting to get involved and attend the events but feeling discouraged at not having the right costume, Bacon assures them that’s not a problem.

“People will say, ’I don’t have any of those [costume pieces]—and the first thing I tell them is costumes aren’t required. Come however you want and enjoy spectating. It’s not exclusive or something you have to work your way up to to participate in.”

And the notion that to dress steampunk you have to come with an alternate identity—say, Sir Captain D.D. Cumulus or Lady Opal Nightstream, the steampunk alter egos from the TV series Portlandia’s skit on the subculture—Bacon says that character development, common to other costume cultures, is actually not the norm.

“It is an uncommon aspect of it,” Bacon explains. “You would think everybody that creates an outfit would have a persona to go along with it—but only uncommonly is that the case. Those that gravitate towards that do so out of a desire to entertain others. If you’re already sort of a natural performer you end up doing that, but it’s not the norm in the steampunk world at large. Most people use their own name. They don’t have that alter ego.”

But why the need for an alternate society in the first place? Why make an effort to relive a time period where you have to break the rules, when you can achieve that by simply living in the here and now—in the 21st century, where belly dancers aren’t deemed immoral for showing a little skin? Is steampunk’s imaginary, costumed culture acting as an escape shoot? For some steampunks, yes. But not in the sense you might think. The subculture’s more extreme participants, who aren’t just “playing” steampunk once or twice a year for an excuse to dress-up, aren’t unhappy with themselves, it’s modern day society they’re attempting to elude.

“I would say, lifestyle-wise, it’s more about finding the modern, sterile aesthetic too bland and boring, so you look back to the Victorian era where the style was overblown,” Crawley explains of the “life-stylers,” who she says are the minority of those attending the High Desert Steam events.

“They want to live by a moral code that’s something from the past, where people were more courteous and thoughtful, and there wasn’t the temporary theme of today’s society where you use something once and throw it away as opposed to fixating and reusing it. But [at the same time], it’s a yearning for a different world—the Victorian time itself was somewhat brutal, with coal fires causing you to barely breath the air, and fresh out of slavery and heavy discrimination—none of that’s ideal. They want a different place in that time period—that’s why it’s steampunk. It’s a world where we live in our ideals, as opposed to what was real at the time. And the reality of today isn’t exactly pleasant either.”

With other interpretations of the subculture relating to a future dystopian society—where the environment has often been destroyed by human overindulgence in technology brought on by the industrial revolution, hence the dust-masks, goggles and necessity of as-yet-discovered gadgets, the question of political stance arises. Is steampunk part of an environmental movement?

Falksen concedes steampunk is more about an artistic form of self-expression than anything political or environmental.

“There aren’t any environmentalist aspects in steampunk,” Falksen says. “Steampunk itself is apolitical. It’s very much focused on art and aesthetics, and its fans all have very diverse views and interests. Really, the only statement that I think is inherent in steampunk is that fashion and aesthetics need to be celebrated and preserved rather than cast aside in favor of homogenized T-shirts and jeans. … Because really, it’s all about having a good time.”

And underneath those leather bird masks and top hats, having a good time is a universal link among the steampunks gracing the grounds of the Third Annual Victorian Steampunk Ball. Although the fashion interpretations and, heck, even the centuries from which they’re choosing to exist at the moment, may vary, they’re all there to have fun and to blow off a little steam.

And it is fun, you realize as you descend the hill from Piper’s Opera House, disoriented from the visual overload you’ve just encountered, and climb into your gasoline powered car with its flashing digital clock yelling the late night hour, it’s somewhat begrudgingly that you start the engine, and travel back to 2013.