Costumes are great conversation starters. “Oo, that’s so clever!” “Love the fabric; where’d you get it?” “Okay, I give up. What the expletive deleted are you supposed to be?” When you venture into the world of reenacting, those friendly conversations can take a sudden and ugly shift from helpful hints about keeping your pinner apron in place to screaming debates about how long to soak metal buttons in urine in order to achieve an authentic patina. No, I’m not kidding . I fall on the less-hardcore end of the historical garb spectrum, mostly due to a lack of funding and closet space. While I’d certainly consider donating an extraneous organ or two for something like this: most of the stuff in my costume closet comes straight from vintage Vogue and McCall patterns. No biggie, since my appearance isn’t that important. I spend most of my reenactment time chatting to kids who are fascinated by my spinning wheel, while their parents are giggling and taking vi