We picked the right day to go to WGW. Apart from a light drizzle just as we arrived, the day stayed fine, if cool. We braved the bracing east wind to sit outside cafes watching the endless parade of Goths, Steampunks and other characters that defied any classification.
I am in awe of the skill, imagination and sheer wackiness that goes in to the creation of some of the costumes. They range from full Victorian costumes, with hoops and bustles to Steampunks in glorious brass accoutrements, with the odd Viking warrior and a fair interpretation of Loki. Some were truly scary, like the hooded woman in grey, with a demon’s mask.
I always come away fromWGW with my faith in the creativity of the individual renewed. In a generation that seems largely to favour grey and black clothes in a limited range of styles, the panoply of colour and styles in Whitby is a feast for the eyes and a declaration that individual style is alive and kicking. No-one does black like a Goth.
Whitby Abbey looked suitably Gothic on the cliff top, under grey skies. I wonder what Bram Stoker would have made of it all?