tip Stow nag fair- gipsy form and nag tradi

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Looking the best manner slathering on membranes of make-up, tottering around in vertiginously high heels, whatever the climate and however thick the muck, and squeezing their bodies, whatever their shape, into tiny bustiers or thigh-skimming dresses. Fluorescent colours are renowned with the gipsy girls, but they adore hot reds, crimsons and counterfeit animal skins, too. Some of them are very smart, with deep dark eyes, lustrous waist-length hair and enviable diagrams. Natalie Ward has travelled from Durham with her boyfriend Matt Howard. Wearing a short skating skirt with leopard-skin heels and a thick gold belt,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], she's advanced a look to antagonist Victoria Beckham's. 'I keep telling her she looks beautiful, because she does, don't she? We're getting married soon, begin having kids and that,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],' says Matt, a cage knight and scrap seller, smiling as his girlfriend blushes to her roots.
With that, April Freshwater, 14,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], turns away and screeches encouragement to a man trotting a thin black and white pony in a cart down the high avenue of Stow-on-the-Wold in Gloucestershire. 'Go on, Shawny,' she says, and signals as he rattles past, a clatter of hooves on tarmac. Watching him she grins, her lids massive with eyeliner and big diamant�� hoops glittering at her ears. It's May and although there's a sharp electropositive chill in the air and mud underfoot, she's wearing a tiny, fluorescent-yellow vest, white pedal-pushers and shine yellow high heels. She doesn't feel the cold, but even now she did she wouldn't put a coat over her kit. 'If I put a coat on I won't stand out so well,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],' she tells me. 'I like looking flashy. It's my culture.'
Stow horse fair: gipsy fashion and horse trading - Telegraph
Fashion is a variety of pulchritude, let us hope that

Stow horse fair: gipsy form and horse trading
Twice a year genteel Stow-on-the-Wold in the Cotswolds hosts a fair attracting thousands of gipsies. For the men it's all about horse-trading. But for the women it's a chance to really dress up - the flashier the outfit, the better.
'I'd like to have a big family,' says Natalie. What does she nightmare of? 'Dream of? Just normal, I conceive. I like getting dressed up, getting to see my family and friends and that. It's a opportunity to obtain out of the trailer. Most of my friends cost their time keeping the trailer wash and raising their family. That's what each gipsy girl really wants to do. Raise kids and have a big family.'
Not everyone in Stow welcomes the gipsies and there is some opposition to the fair. Detractors claim that the town has 'outgrown' the fair and that it's bad for its picture as a tourist hot spot. Several of the shops and all the pubs will near for the fair day. 'It's not that I necessarily think that they will steal,' says one shop-owner, who favored to remain nameless. 'It's just that it's a good pretext to give my staff a day off, so we always shut up for the day of the fair.
I inquire her if she sings and she laughs again. 'Of way I sing. All gipsies sing, but I'm told I have a real genius. But I chose to baby-sit the day of the audition,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], so what can I do? This is my life.' With that she totters away through the grass in her studded mules, a blue fox-fur wrap around her shoulders, gold bracelets jangling at her wrists.
It's just simpler.' Gipsies have always had a reputation as the wild people of the world, of course, so this against is hardly surprising, and many residents view the fair with interested resignation. 'It's colourful, you can say that at least,' says an resident. 'The majority of us just adopt it for what it is and kas long asthere'll always be the mysterious wrong apple in the cart. And I think that some folk are starting to realise that the fair is part of the town's heritage, too, and should be valued for that.'
Natalie is appalled when I ask Matt if they live together and share a bed, and turns away. He laughs and shakes his head as I apologise. 'You mortified her. We're not married but, see, and the girls don't talk about sex anyhow. A gipsy boy wouldn't want to go with a girl who had been to mattress with something else. There's a lot of gipsy families in this country, and they tend to all intermarry. That way a man can know if a girl has been with another man. That's the right way. They're used to doing what their father or husband tells them, and they're happy with it because it's the way it should be.'
Raising a big family has always been a part of gipsy culture. Germaine Greer and her feminine eunuch definitely passed the gipsies by, because this is still a profoundly patriarchal culture, in which men, with their wild horses and big arms and their pick-up trucks and greyhounds and fighting fowls, truly are men. And the girls like it like that. Few of them work independently outside their family: they might aid their dad with the horses now and again, but most shrug off proposals that they might ascertain employ. Why would they want to garbage their period with that, once and for all? This is a traditional globe, and despite their crazy, garish costumes, the girls are surprisingly conservative in their ambitions.
For the gipsies the fair is a high point of their annual. It's ostensibly an opportunity for gipsy men to get together to commerce horses, but it's too a collective party of what it means to be a gipsy, and, freed briefly from the confines of trailer life, one excuse for the girls to really primp. 'It's our chance to show off,' says Rosie Lamb, wearing a fluorescent outfit that co-ordinates with April's. 'It doesn't occur so often but we love it. All gipsy girls like showing off.'
Does she feel there's anything she's missing out on, I venture, such as the emancipation to acquire money for herself? Her face crashes into a big grin. 'Get away with ya! Why would I want that, now? I'm joyed to be a full-time housekeeper and I'm the one that gets to spend the cash, remember.' Before she goes to find her husband she gives me the names of her brothers, Patrick and Andy Cassidy, who, she tells me, got through to the third round of the last X Factor. 'The boys have beautiful voices, so we're really amused for them.'
BY Clover Stroud |05 June 2009
'I call myself a gipsy because that's what I am. We live in trailers and have got almost 20 horses. I grew up riding and I never use a harness, so I'm natural to it, see? I know we're alter, but I wouldn't want to be like you. I like standing out and I like being a gipsy.'
Stow isn't the sort of location normally related with flashy dressing and excessive displays of horsemanship, but April and Shawny don't belong to Stow. Perched in the voluptuous undulations of the Cotswold mounds, this market town grew rich in the Middle Ages from the regional wool trade. Today it is chocolate-box pretty, famed for its ripe limestone streets lined with ancient shops, book-dealers and tea chambers. This is England as doll town, although there's real life in the form of a good butcher, a deli selling fancy cake and a well-stocked saddler, and because this is ample Gloucestershire you're very possible to see Elizabeth Hurley or Alex James popping into The Bell for luncheon. It's certainly very cute and very calm, so tourists love Stow. But twice a year, in May and October, the town becomes a horse fair. Dating from 1476 when Edward IV granted the abbot of Evesham a royal treaty, it attracts thousands of gipsies and traveller families from all overthe British Isles.
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Amadine smiles when her mother says this. She's here at the fair to find a man. 'I never want to marry out. I want a husband to be head of the family, and what he says is decree, just like in the Bible.' Is she merry, I ask. 'Happy?' she says laughing, startled that I've asked. 'I couldn't be happier, my friend,' she replies, then drifts off to help her father with his ponies.

Rosie and April certainly stand out, but there's stiff emulation from the other girls, or, at least, from the girls who've not already base themselves husbands. Most will have arranged their outfits for weeks; some will have had dresses made primarily for the day, such as Kara O'Reily, in a black net skirt with hot-pink trimming, roseate bustier and patent roseate and dark high heels. Her dad works on a tip and she lives on a site in Birmingham with her parents and five older brothers, Jimmy, Tommy, Peter, Matty and Paddy. At 13 she's the youngest and her mommy,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], relieved to have a daughter after all, has always enjoyed dressing her daughter. 'She wanted me to look good, you understand? Wanted me to look the best.'
Katrina Cassidy is at the fair with her sisters, Priscilla and Josie, and her daughter Bridgie, doll-like in pink satin with corkscrew curls and a pink fur wrap. A dark-eyed beauty with a lilting Irish stress and waist-length, dark hair, she describes herself as a full-time housewife, although she is arrogant of the truth that she stayed at educate until she was 13 and can read and jot. 'I want Bridgie to have the schooling I had, because a lot of these girls can't read or write,' she says. 'Now that's not right, but I'm happy to be at home. Why would I want to work now I've got a infant? This is a good life. We were brought up as gipsies and we'll always respect those traditions. Family materials to us most, but we love the chance to have a gathering.'
Amadine is not unattended. None of the girls seems to crave fame or money or a big house. They want children, a nice trailer, a husband who remedies them nicely and brings in the money. To the outsider this may sound intensely claustrophobic, but while you look at the girls cavorting around the fair attach, falling in and out of every other's trailers, minding every other's babies, comparing cilia, make-up, husbands, it naturally looks like a culture mostly at ease with itself. It is celebratory. It looks good fun and the amusement is generated by very strong household knots. The women like dressing their daughters up in satin and their sons in mini old-fashioned tweed wraps. They cycle them around in Silver Cross prams, before going off to buy Royal Doulton china for their trailers. None of them expresses a dissenting desire for everything different: it is what they've grown up with and it is the life they want for their daughters, also.
One gets the sense that gipsy civilization, in no way being on the decrease, is stronger than ever. This is partial down to evangelical Christianity, which has swept through their community over the past two decades. Traditionally, gipsies have tended to adopt the religion of the nation in which they live. With the rise of evangelism in Britain, it's maybe no amazing that the gipsies, with their orthodox values, would have saluted it with such zeal. Several of the girls at the fair narrate me to peruse John 3: 3 in which Christ states, 'Verily,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], verily I mention unto thee, besides a male be connate afresh, he cannot discern the Kingdom of God.' There are several chant appointments the night ahead the fair and on the day there's a service in a big tent on the floor, crammed with appropriately sparkling and colourful life-size Madonnas. At this service I meet Isabel Johnson, who is at the just with her daughter Amadine, 24, a bold girl who drifts via the long grass in the field in a floor-length clothe, a twist of turquoise at her throat. Isabel tells me that gipsy civilization is agreeable extra, no fewer, orthodox. 'It accustomed to be the women who did maximum of the go, going out to sell pegs alternatively picking fruit. We cried the men kettle boilers for that's entire they did. But immediately we've been born again for [link widoczny dla zalogowanych]s. It's been agreeable for our community. We've stopped selling heather and charms. We gave some entities up because Christ, yet it's kept us mighty. The younger ones favor the institutions, like cast-iron kettles and appropriate campfires. And the girls want big families repeatedly, and most of them will only wed dissimilar gipsy.'
There's a visceral vigor to Stow Fair that's hard to bypass; it's exhilarating, but by the end of the day I feel ragged and slightly sensitive, too. I nearly feel as if I'm missing out, and that it is I,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with my bills and pledge and work, who has got it erroneous. It's a deeply celebratory event and the girls I s[link widoczny dla zalogowanych] to look happier than most of my friends. On the course out I see April again, riding a big black horse. 'I'm selling him for me dad.
I can do anything I want, see? I tin work whether I want, sell horses and that, but when the time comes to take a chap I'll probably stay at family and heave kids and make the same agree that my mother made to my dad. It's fun being a gipsy and sometimes I muse that girls in normal culture want to be like us. We've got the life we want. Why ought we want anything else?'

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