Amid the chaos of our nation’s capital, some are seeking a reprieve from life in the swamp through a second life under the sea.
There are hundreds of “women, men and nonbinary people” in Washington, D.C., who have taken up cosplaying in mermaid costumes as a hobby, according to a feature in The Washington Post.
These “pods” of enthusiasts spend thousands of dollars each on false tails and gather in aquatic centers to enjoy their hobby.
“Living here is fast; everything is fast. There’s traffic. There’s so many people, and it feels so suffocating sometimes,” Montara Hewgill, who works in supply chain management for a company that builds space equipment, told The Washington Post.
“But, to escape into something magical, anything as far from this reality as you can, feels really nice, even if it’s just for a couple of hours.”
There are about 1,000 people in the “Metro MerFolk” group on Facebook.
Such an activity is clearly appealing to some.
Washington even has one of the largest “Mer” communities in the country, with the possible exception of Florida.
The tails are generally made of fabric or silicone and are decorated with sequins or seashells.
The hobbyists also wear brightly colored wigs, streams of tinsel in their hair, and seashell crowns and necklaces.
Colleen McCartney, who is known as the “Celtic Siren,” runs a marketing agency. But she also runs meetups for the “Mer.”
“It was just creating space for people to have fun,” McCartney commented.
As with most other activities in our nation’s capital, diversity was a must-have for these gatherings.
“There’s also a lot of people who needed a place to feel accepted, whether they were neurodivergent or they were the alphabet mafia, the LGBTQIA — finding a place that you can let your guard down and actually get in touch with your inner child and play,” McCartney added. “That’s not a space that exists very often.”
Though they were exchanging their feet for flippers, some of the men in the group were clearly a bit light in the loafers.
The Washington Post featured a picture of a man named Jacob Griffith slipping into a purple mermaid tail on the pool deck, along with seashell-shaped shoulder pads.
Some “Mer” enthusiasts even go professional, traveling the country to do synchronized performances at renaissance fairs and similar events.
As it turns out, when deep state middle managers are not sneaking pork into omnibus bills or designing new ways to bomb third-world countries, they are frolicking about in mermaid costumes.
In case you ever wanted to know what they do on the weekends, now you know, for better or for worse.
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