A quick definition: Conventions are arranged meetings of like-minded individuals who gather to discuss and enjoy their common interests. Conventions work for Republicans and neurosurgeons, for Wal-Mart managers and people who like to dress up in costumes based on anime characters. A vendor with the right product can make a mint at a convention—or just hand out goodies to lure customers to a website or a catalogue. Conventioneers generally choose congenial surroundings with plenty of fun things to do off-site. After a long day of lectures on surgical techniques, a tired doctor might want to have a drink and see a play.

In recent years, the CosPlay get-togethers have gone into warp drive, drawing aficionados from hundreds of miles away. Perhaps this is the model for FaerieCon, a recent arrival in the convention trade. As its name suggests, FaerieCon is aimed at fans of faeries and related woodland sprites. Its promoters have lofty ambitions to serve the growing population of people – all ages – who crave all things faerie. Lectures and book signings by the top-tier artists and writers, lively music by internationally-known performers, vendors selling beautiful hand-made items, and folks dressed in elaborate costumes are hallmarks of these gatherings.

But somehow, FaerieCon just doesn’t work.

FaerieCon is a spin-off of the very popular Faerieworlds event held every summer in an outdoor venue near Eugene, Oregon. Outdoor is the key word here. The event near Eugene, at least in photos, suggests the zany atmosphere of a festival, with blue skies overhead and velvety green grass underfoot. The big names go there – Woodland, The Wicker Men, Brian and Wendy Froud, Amy Brown – but, rain or shine, the revelry is outdoors.

The East Coast incarnation, FaerieCon, will be held this year in November, a month with iffy weather in the Mid-Atlantic states. For its first two years, FaerieCon was held in the Philadelphia Convention Center, with related evening faerie balls nearby at Philly's retro Trocadero Theater. This year marks a change of venue to a Marriott Inn in posh Hunt Valley, about twenty miles north of Baltimore. All of the FaerieCon schedule will be held at the Marriott, including the balls. The promoters' claim in a February promotional email that Baltimore’s Inner Harbor is a "ten-minute drive away" doesn't even hold true if you exceed the speed limit and make the trip at 3:00 in the morning.

Vendors have complained that FaerieCon charges too much for booths. Attendees have complained that the tickets are pricey and there’s no official notice when the main acts make last-minute cancellations. Philadelphians bristled in the spring of 2009 when FaerieCon’s staff announced the change of location in an email calling Baltimore a "safer and more hospitable city." This claim is debatable, but what's certain is that the Philadelphia Convention Center can be reached by mass transit, and the Marriott Hunt Valley can't.

Light attendance at FaerieCon 2007 could have been blamed on the event's novelty. Equally light attendance in 2008 could be blamed on the economy. In their most recent emails, the FaerieCon promoters are claiming that the blocks of rooms they reserved at a convention price have all sold out, and that more rooms will be made available at package rates. Has FaerieCon finally found the foothold that has proven so enjoyable and profitable in Oregon? Will faerie fans flock to a convention-style hotel for a weekend of dancing, costuming, and partying with their like-minded cohorts?

The better question might be: Will the faeries be there?

There's a distinction between Otakon and FaerieCon. Fans of anime conventions spend countless hours creating costumes based on their favorite characters. They stand in long lines to meet the creators of those characters, and they converse for hours with people they just met who also love those characters. But very few, if any, of those fans would tell you they believe the characters are real. The line between fantasy and reality is pretty clear at Otakon. Anyone who claimed to have had a conversation, or even a passing meeting, with an anime creation would be considered... well, loony.

On the other hand, faerie fans fall into two categories. Some are "fairy fans" who enjoy the art and music associated with the Celtic faerie culture. Most, however, will state unequivocally that they believe in faeries. They’ve conversed, communed, or communicated with faeries. "Faerie" is not a commercially-driven entertainment for them, but rather a full-bodied lifestyle, a path through the veil, a part of a larger spiritual framework.

For these people, a FaerieCon held in a convention setting borders on the absurd. It's like throwing a lavish party without inviting the guests of honor. Odd as it sounds, there are some conventional notions about faeries: They like the outdoors. If they come inside, they’re drawn by clutter, by pets, by nooks and crannies that convention centers take great pains to avoid. They are not impressed by large outlays of money; indeed, they might be affronted if those who believe in them book two nights at a Marriott but neglect to pour a libation of wine in the backyard garden. Homage to the fae is a manner of worship, not merely a fun way to spend a weekend.

FaerieCon and, to a lesser extent, many local faerie festivals must skirt an inconvenient truth. It is simple enough: Faeries are part of the Celtic faith and therefore grounded in Paganism. It is possible to stage a faerie event that bypasses the cultural grounding – the promoters of FaerieCon certainly try their best. But taking that step pulls faeries out of context. It trades upon their commercial allure without acknowledging their spiritual essence.

Faerie artist Brian Froud worked himself nearly to exhaustion signing books and prints at FaerieCon 2007. One need only look at his intricate work and its ethereal settings to understand why conventions work for Star Trek fans but not for those who love the fae. Writer Terrence McKenna once said of faeries that to deal with them "is to enter a realm of riddles and puzzle settings." There’s nothing puzzling about a Marriott Hotel, except for its choice as a venue for anything having to do with the Ladies and Lords of Sidhe.

Anne Johnson is the author of the Pagan humor blog “The Gods Are Bored.” http://godsrbored.blogspot.com

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