How can I explain feria?
Imagine running around an unfamiliar town in a heavily ruffled flamenco dress and increasingly painful high heels for four days straight, surviving on very little sleep, a steady 
diet of fried fish and endless amounts of sherry. You continuously weave your way through the dirt floor of the fairgrounds to visit the endless rows of makeshift bars set up for the occasion, each time you cross the road you manage to narrowly escape being crushed by the horse drawn carriages that repeatedly cruise by, filled with more sherry-guzzling revellers. The large flower in your hair is begining to itch and your earlobes are killing you from the weight of the giant gaudy earrings they made you wear, but you are too busy staring at the pac
ks of people that fill the bars dancing methodically in pairs to the wildly repetitive yet strangely addictive Sevillanas music that blares away endlessly in the background : that my friends is just a mere glimpse at what the thoroughly exhausting yet wildly exhilarating Spanish phenomenon of feria is all about...
Feria, is in fact a series of huge celebrations that take place every year typically after Easter in many of the towns in southern Spain. Each town hosts its own individual feria , the most famous taking place in the largest cities of the Andalusian province: Seville and Jerez de La Frontera. Although Seville’s feria is probably the most well-known outside of Spain and tends to attract the most tourists, it is known for being extremely exclusive and difficul
t to enjoy if you are not lucky enough to be invited into the private tents by any of the locals. Visitors don’t get to truly experience the real party, as they are often left on the street trying in vain to peer through the barriers even if just to get a quick peek at all the locals boozing it up in the members-only tents called casetas. The feria in Jerez may not be as famous as Seville's in foreign circles, but it is definitely more friendly since almost all the casetas are open to the public. You can rub elbows with the natives and feel like you are really a part of the action.
Lucky for me, my sister Melissa’s boyfriend (Alvaro) happens to be from Jerez, so this year we had a perfect opportunity to experience feria first-hand with the added bonus of having a native Jerezano and his family as our hosts.
Seeing that Melissa, Ade and I had never been to feria before, we spent the weeks leading up to the event trying to learn what to expect by bombarding Alvaro with questions at all hours. Melissa and I even went so far as to subject the poor man to impromptu fashion shows in order for him to give us his opinion on different outfits and deem whether they were appropriate or not to take with us for the days we wouldn’t have to be decked out in full flamenco regalia.
Tourists that go to feria don’t usually wear flamenco outfits, and those that do are often ridiculed mercilessly behind their backs by the locals (as Alvaro confessed sheepishly to us) since most of the rental dresses for tourists are so out of style they look as if the person came straight off t
he set of a low-budget 1950s bullfighting movie. However, Melissa and I were not your typical tourists, since we were always accompanied by a large group of locals dressed in traditional feria gear we were of course expected to do the same and assimilate as much as possible. Prior to feria we literally spent weeks scouring Madrid looking for some nice rental dresses and accompany us to the different rental stores, at first I thought it was out of his love for the tradition of feria but later I began to suspect that it was in order to ensure that we wouldn't show up in something that would convert all of us into social pariahs.
After all, feria fashion is a HUGE deal in the south- there is even a special flamenco fashion week held every year to dictate the trends for the upcoming year! Flamenco dresses are typically worn by local women, although they definitely don’t wear them for the entire week of partying. For one, flamenco dresses are extremely expensive- if the average woman is dropping a few hundred euros or in some cases thousands on each new dress, they most likely are not going to purchase more than one new one a year . That being said, no local woman would be caught dead wearing the same dress more than once in that same week of feria- it is considered a social faux pas of sorts, of course I have no idea what would actually happen if someone did do it: the dresses seem like they could potentially be really flammable with all those ruffles , so maybe the fashion offenders are tied to flaming bales of hay by the local flamenco police in fiery revenge for their refusal to diversify their dress choices? I kind of wish someone had done it and been publicly ridiculed for it in my presence so I could
have at least sat down with a glass of sherry and a bucket of fried fish to watch the angry mob go to work on them from a safe distance. Fortunately for Melissa and I, our rental dresses went undetected and we blended in seamlessly with the crowd. That is of course until the Sevillanas music came on, that is where Melissa and I very obviously parted ways. ..
My sister has always had the annoying and somewhat alarming habit of being heavily influenced by her surroundings in a very short span of time. As children, on vacations in Virginia Beach with my parents- it would only take a few days before Melissa would, like some kind of demonic little doll, begin speaking with a southern twang and using words like “y’all” and “reckon” that would make the hair on the back of my mother’s neck stand on end. When she dated an Argentinian guy a few years back, I remember being overcome by the strong urge to punch her every time I would hear her speak Spanish in an accent reminiscent of a childhood roaming the Pampa on horseback and a lifetime of dancing tango in the smoky bars of Buenos Aires.
So it really came as no surprise when after only a week of intensive practicing at home with Alvaro and on her own with only the help an outdated instructional DVD, Melissa began to dance the complex Sevillanas dance with the ease and dexterity of someone who had been dancing
her entire life. As for myself, I admit that Ade and I didn’t really bother to practice as often as Melissa, however when desperately avoiding public ridicule in your boyfriend’s hometown is the impetus for your learning... things tend to move a bit more swiftly. The Sevillanas dance is made up of 4 parts set to highly repetitive music sung typically by what sounds like large groups of slightly overweight sixty year old men with chest hair. Sadly, Ade and I had only managed to learn (barely) parts 1&2 by the time feria rolled around, leaving us in a stressful predicament... should we throw caution to the wind and attempt some kind of dual improvisation for when parts 3&4 came on? Or was it wiser to just keep repeating parts 1&2 in an effort to attract the least amount of attention possible and pray that no one notices? Not a decision for the faint-hearted, especially when just before the music starts you foolishly glance over to see a throng of people congratulating your sister who is now being hailed as the Ginger Rogers of flamenco. 
I won’t give you the satisfaction of knowing how our attempt at dancing went, I will let you imagine it by telling you that as soon as the music stopped -as if some flamenco godfather had given the order from a secret backroom after watching us on a surveillance link- some kind of swiftly executed intervention took place. Before Ade and I realized what was going on, other more experienced dancers had swooped in to separate us and take each of us under their wings in an effort to guide us through the next attempt. Although our dancing improved a bit under the tutelage of our new partners, the eternal question shall forever go unanswered: was it all an act of kindness or just the work of an elaborate underground militia whose sole purpose is to uphold the sanctity of the dance and do everything in their power to prevent foreigners from unwittingly upsetting the fiery flamenco gods with their two left castanets?
diet of fried fish and endless amounts of sherry. You continuously weave your way through the dirt floor of the fairgrounds to visit the endless rows of makeshift bars set up for the occasion, each time you cross the road you manage to narrowly escape being crushed by the horse drawn carriages that repeatedly cruise by, filled with more sherry-guzzling revellers. The large flower in your hair is begining to itch and your earlobes are killing you from the weight of the giant gaudy earrings they made you wear, but you are too busy staring at the packs of people that fill the bars dancing methodically in pairs to the wildly repetitive yet strangely addictive Sevillanas music that blares away endlessly in the background : that my friends is just a mere glimpse at what the thoroughly exhausting yet wildly exhilarating Spanish phenomenon of feria is all about...Feria, is in fact a series of huge celebrations that take place every year typically after Easter in many of the towns in southern Spain. Each town hosts its own individual feria , the most famous taking place in the largest cities of the Andalusian province: Seville and Jerez de La Frontera. Although Seville’s feria is probably the most well-known outside of Spain and tends to attract the most tourists, it is known for being extremely exclusive and difficul
t to enjoy if you are not lucky enough to be invited into the private tents by any of the locals. Visitors don’t get to truly experience the real party, as they are often left on the street trying in vain to peer through the barriers even if just to get a quick peek at all the locals boozing it up in the members-only tents called casetas. The feria in Jerez may not be as famous as Seville's in foreign circles, but it is definitely more friendly since almost all the casetas are open to the public. You can rub elbows with the natives and feel like you are really a part of the action.
Lucky for me, my sister Melissa’s boyfriend (Alvaro) happens to be from Jerez, so this year we had a perfect opportunity to experience feria first-hand with the added bonus of having a native Jerezano and his family as our hosts.
Seeing that Melissa, Ade and I had never been to feria before, we spent the weeks leading up to the event trying to learn what to expect by bombarding Alvaro with questions at all hours. Melissa and I even went so far as to subject the poor man to impromptu fashion shows in order for him to give us his opinion on different outfits and deem whether they were appropriate or not to take with us for the days we wouldn’t have to be decked out in full flamenco regalia.
Tourists that go to feria don’t usually wear flamenco outfits, and those that do are often ridiculed mercilessly behind their backs by the locals (as Alvaro confessed sheepishly to us) since most of the rental dresses for tourists are so out of style they look as if the person came straight off t
he set of a low-budget 1950s bullfighting movie. However, Melissa and I were not your typical tourists, since we were always accompanied by a large group of locals dressed in traditional feria gear we were of course expected to do the same and assimilate as much as possible. Prior to feria we literally spent weeks scouring Madrid looking for some nice rental dresses and accompany us to the different rental stores, at first I thought it was out of his love for the tradition of feria but later I began to suspect that it was in order to ensure that we wouldn't show up in something that would convert all of us into social pariahs.After all, feria fashion is a HUGE deal in the south- there is even a special flamenco fashion week held every year to dictate the trends for the upcoming year! Flamenco dresses are typically worn by local women, although they definitely don’t wear them for the entire week of partying. For one, flamenco dresses are extremely expensive- if the average woman is dropping a few hundred euros or in some cases thousands on each new dress, they most likely are not going to purchase more than one new one a year . That being said, no local woman would be caught dead wearing the same dress more than once in that same week of feria- it is considered a social faux pas of sorts, of course I have no idea what would actually happen if someone did do it: the dresses seem like they could potentially be really flammable with all those ruffles , so maybe the fashion offenders are tied to flaming bales of hay by the local flamenco police in fiery revenge for their refusal to diversify their dress choices? I kind of wish someone had done it and been publicly ridiculed for it in my presence so I could
have at least sat down with a glass of sherry and a bucket of fried fish to watch the angry mob go to work on them from a safe distance. Fortunately for Melissa and I, our rental dresses went undetected and we blended in seamlessly with the crowd. That is of course until the Sevillanas music came on, that is where Melissa and I very obviously parted ways. ..My sister has always had the annoying and somewhat alarming habit of being heavily influenced by her surroundings in a very short span of time. As children, on vacations in Virginia Beach with my parents- it would only take a few days before Melissa would, like some kind of demonic little doll, begin speaking with a southern twang and using words like “y’all” and “reckon” that would make the hair on the back of my mother’s neck stand on end. When she dated an Argentinian guy a few years back, I remember being overcome by the strong urge to punch her every time I would hear her speak Spanish in an accent reminiscent of a childhood roaming the Pampa on horseback and a lifetime of dancing tango in the smoky bars of Buenos Aires.
So it really came as no surprise when after only a week of intensive practicing at home with Alvaro and on her own with only the help an outdated instructional DVD, Melissa began to dance the complex Sevillanas dance with the ease and dexterity of someone who had been dancing
her entire life. As for myself, I admit that Ade and I didn’t really bother to practice as often as Melissa, however when desperately avoiding public ridicule in your boyfriend’s hometown is the impetus for your learning... things tend to move a bit more swiftly. The Sevillanas dance is made up of 4 parts set to highly repetitive music sung typically by what sounds like large groups of slightly overweight sixty year old men with chest hair. Sadly, Ade and I had only managed to learn (barely) parts 1&2 by the time feria rolled around, leaving us in a stressful predicament... should we throw caution to the wind and attempt some kind of dual improvisation for when parts 3&4 came on? Or was it wiser to just keep repeating parts 1&2 in an effort to attract the least amount of attention possible and pray that no one notices? Not a decision for the faint-hearted, especially when just before the music starts you foolishly glance over to see a throng of people congratulating your sister who is now being hailed as the Ginger Rogers of flamenco. 
I won’t give you the satisfaction of knowing how our attempt at dancing went, I will let you imagine it by telling you that as soon as the music stopped -as if some flamenco godfather had given the order from a secret backroom after watching us on a surveillance link- some kind of swiftly executed intervention took place. Before Ade and I realized what was going on, other more experienced dancers had swooped in to separate us and take each of us under their wings in an effort to guide us through the next attempt. Although our dancing improved a bit under the tutelage of our new partners, the eternal question shall forever go unanswered: was it all an act of kindness or just the work of an elaborate underground militia whose sole purpose is to uphold the sanctity of the dance and do everything in their power to prevent foreigners from unwittingly upsetting the fiery flamenco gods with their two left castanets?
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