The awesomeness of Phunk-N-Ink

28 Mar

Jaclyn1423 went to its (her?) first three-day festival over the weekend. The Phunk-N-Ink Tattoo  Music Festival was easily the most fun I’ve had playing vendor. Awesome people, crazy sights, a ton of fun. I kept notes of some of the crazy things I saw. (It’s the reporter in me. I can’t help it.) Forgive me for the length of this post — but it was a long three days.

  • There are two types of couples who look at my jewelry. One: The woman will say, “Honey, you know my birthday/our anniversary/Flag Day is coming up. I like this, this and this.” Two: Both parties will look at the jewelry. The woman will like it; the man will REALLY like it. She will point out a few pieces, and he will say, “Honey, why don’t you pick one out!” She will wrinkle her nose and walk away while he smiles apologetically at me.
  • I love it when a little boy likes to look at my jewelry. It’s so adorable. They will finger a pretty rock or point out an awesome geode, and you can see the wheels turning: “Why can’t I wear this???” An old key I put on a necklace especially attracted little boys. On in particular was especially keen on it. He was 4. He tried to put it up his nose.

The key in question.

  • A few hours later, a couple I had seen a lot of at the fest stopped by and asked about that key. “Do you know what that is?” they asked. I guessed that it was an old skeleton key. I found it on a trip to a giant antique showroom in Ohio. Apparently, it’s an old handcuff key. And by “old,” I’m talking 150 years. They pointed out a faded marking they called the maker’s mark. It might be time to take that thing to an expert. I trust the two who told me– they’re recreationists, the types who like to recreate events like the Civil War as accurately as possible — but I’d like some kind of officialness to it.
  • People come to these events in interesting clothing. That’s to be expected. When I saw the Johnny Cash middle finger t-shirt followed by someone in a sweatshirt with a giant F-U-C-K across it, I didn’t think much of it. When I saw a girl who appeared to be 14 in a bra, though, I looked twice. It was one of those corset types, strapless, and it came down past her navel. The back was sheer. She walked around with her arms in front of her chest (can’t imagine why). When she walked past a second time, I noticed a detail I had missed from the little black shorts that were wider than they were long: They had handcuffs hanging from the belt loops. The THIRD time she walked past, she had a tail. It was white and puffy, and it hung to her knees. The fourth time I saw her, she tried to talk me into giving her a necklace for free.
  • I saw two completely different pink Mohawks. When the first pink Mohawk walked by, a little girl nearby said, “Look at his hair!” He heard and turned around, grinning, and gave her a thumbs-up. A few minutes later, Pink Mohawk was looking at a vendor down the hall. He bent down to get a closer look at something. He had his pants belted halfway up his bum. Sooooo it was like crack city. Not just a town or a village. But a city. He’s lucky (or I’m lucky, I guess) he had a cute butt.
  • I think I got hit on by a 10-year-old. He was with the crew who had the kid who tried pick his nose with my necklace. Anyway, the suitor played 20 questions with me. One line of questioning went as follows: “How old are you?” 27. “You look young.” Thank you. “Are you married?” Nope. “Do you have a boyfriend.” I do. “What’s his name?” Jeff. “Is he nice?” He is.
  • The following conversation happened with an adult man, probably in his 20s: “Who are you?” I’m Jaclyn. Who are you? “Brandon.” Hi Brandon. “Hi. What are you doing?” I’m selling jewelry. (When I say this, I am sitting behind a table covered with jewelry.) “I need to get something for my girlfriend. Do you take credit card?” No, I’m sorry. I can take a check though. He proceeds to look at a long vintage chain I have. “Is this real?” No, I don’t think it is. It’s vintage though. “It’s not? It better be for that price.” It is $18. I don’t bother to tell him a 30-inch rope chain in real gold would be closer to $180.

The $18 vintage necklace.

  • I and the other non-tattoo-related vendors were set up in the hallway. The good stuff was in the ballroom — the tattoo artists, the burlesque girls, the guys swinging from nails jabbed through the meat in their back. There were also “tobacco” paraphernalia set up there. One guy, in the over-21 section, was jonesing for some business. He came by to advertise his wares. He held out a battery and pulled off the top, showing that it only looked like a battery. “See? You can hide stuff in there. Like money.” Right. Money. “We have pipes too. For primary tobacco. Nothing illegal.” ((wink)) Seriously, he winked when he said that.
  • Going back to the shows on in the ballroom: Have you heard of suspension? A person pays another person money to jab rods through the meat on his or her back (think of the scruff you use when you pick up a cat). The glutton for punishment walks around with the hooks in his or her skin for a while. And then the suspendee is hooked onto a cable and pulley and … suspended. They just … hang there, swinging around. By the hooks in their back. I watched it for a little bit. Then that was enough and I walked away. (I put a picture after the jump. If you get woozy, don’t bother.)
  • The corseting. Ohhhh, the corseting. So a young, slim gal was walking around in a slinky black tank top. It connected around her neck and at a band around her waist. The front is flowey. It was actually quite flattering. At first glance, the back appeared to be skin-colored with a think black ribbon corseted up it. But then … the back was not skin-colored. It was backless entirely. Instead, she had a row of piercings up either side of her back. The piercings were small hoops, and the black ribbon was threaded through the piercings. I’m cringing as I type about it, and yet, it looked really, really beautiful.

It was a blast. An absolute blast. I worked a book with a friend who did henna (that will be another post entirely), and my hand is currently fabulous.

I hope your weekend was as exciting as mine! (Click through the jump for the potentially woozy-inducing pics.)

I pulled this pic of Google. I’m not sure I did a good enough job describing corseting. This is it:

I stole this next pic from a friend’s Facebook page. She’s the gal I shared the booth with. When she went last year, she got a picture of the suspension. Here’s a guy  hanging from his knees. At the front right and left, you can see how the back is pierced for a more “traditional” back suspension.


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