A Polished Little Jewel: Café Verführen

Last year, I served in the YaoiCon café. It was a lot of fun, but I think our guests deserved better, and I felt compelled to apologize. senshixdoukeshi linked it over on the YaoiCon forums, where some people thought I was being unreasonable, some were supportive, and more than a few mentioned Café Verführen. I’d heard about it, of course, but I hadn’t actually attended, and I made a point of going this year. I was lucky enough to secure a reservation for one of their Friday-evening sessions.

To visit, I had to leave the frantic, hurried energy of the con; it takes up an inconspicuous, well-furnished suite tucked away on the third floor of the hotel. There was a small line waiting by the door when I arrived, but Café Verführen seats only twenty-two at capacity, which kept the group small and patient. Everyone was seated in short order, more or less on time. I can’t imagine that the two cafés attract substantially different clientele, so I’m left crediting the room’s accoustics for keeping the background noise to a low murmur. The quiet was a very nice touch; even when the evening ran a little behind schedule, the atmosphere stayed relaxed and graciously unhurried.

Having experienced (and enjoyed) the (non-professional) host-café as both server and guest now, I have a hard time expressing how much I admire what Café Verführen has created. Details like that make the difference between a great event and a mediocre one, and the details are where they sweep the field. They’ve created something full of little refinements, tiny considerations of the nuances of their guest experience. Some of them are as simple as sheets of paper; the menus weren’t printed on plain white bond, and they weren’t stack-cut to quarter-sheet. The drinks are served in glass, not Styrofoam. Those sound small, almost inconsequential, and on one level they are, but on another they’re tactile, hardwired directly to the brain, and I felt the difference even through gloves. Those choices have weight, in a very literal way, and even if they weren’t made consciously, weight has meaning; it feels like a natural manifestation of a commitment to do things right.

I felt a sense of pride coming from the staff – not arrogance, just confident, fannish pride, a friendly sort of Look at this wonderful thing we’ve made to share with you – and I think it’s well-justified.

I Survived YaoiCon 2008

YaoiCon 2008 is well and truly over; midnight has struck, the coach is a pumpkin, and all the celebrants have wandered home, watching the magic fade into memory for another year. My brain is still congealing from the experience, but you can expect my thoughts and pictures to come trickling through this site over the next week or so. I hope you’ll excuse my absence lately; I wanted to finish the latest story, First And Last And Always in time for the con. I came very close; there are only a few polishing edits left for me to make, and then I’ll put it to bed and see whether I want to post it or offer it to Anne for the Anthology. The YaoiCon Anthology has been dormant for two years now, but Tybalt stories have always been been tied to them; if the staff plans to resurrect it next year, I may hold the story for them. We’ll see.

Every year I start looking forward to the next convention almost before I finish recovering from the one just past. Every year I’ve made new friends and caught up with old ones; every year I’ve found a few special thoughts and memories to digest and make part of myself. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration that falling in with this particular crowd has actually helped me become a better person for all the experiences I’ve found with them. Obviously I have a tendency to overthink just a little bit, but it’s a tremendously inclusive event: some people go just to shop; some go to meet other fans; others still just enjoy the sheer exuberant energy that cons always seem to breed. I’m convinced that some people go because they are incredibly bad at masturbating, but this is another essay entirely.

I’ve attended five YaoiCons now, but this was the first time I didn’t have any specific, official involvement. Originally I was slated (tentatively) to work the Sunday Brunch, but when I called to check in that morning, Gothkitti told me not to worry about it. At first I was a bit worried about letting him down (he’s a good friend of mine and I do enjoy helping out with his events where I can), but after a good night’s sleep and some time to unwind I think he was being merciful. By that time I’d already worked ten hours as a regular volunteer, and I’m sure would have knocked myself out completely trying to bring my best game to the tables. If any of you out there attended, I would love to hear your impressions.

On the other hand, I did attend Café Veführen, the other café held at YaoiCon. I heard it mentioned several times after I posted about my serving experiences last year, and it felt important to see what others were doing with the concept. Later, after I’ve organized my pictures a little bit, I’ll post my thoughts about it in a separate review; right now, up front, I will say that I was thoroughly impressed and I would love to visit again.

Being such a long-time attendee does have one drawback, though; the con has grown enormously and I’m sometimes a bit unsure what people want to know or hear about. For the month of October, then, if you have any questions or you’d like to hear my thoughts on something in particular, please do feel free to speak up. I’ll try to cover as much as possible.

Edit: That was YaoiCon 2008, not 2009. Thanks, senshixdoukeshi.

A Present for You!

Well, it is a present for most of you. I think perhaps that some of you will not want it.

Just in time for Christmas, Tanko has given her permission for us to post the first Tybalt pictures ever! She drew them for The Tears of Anael when it was published in the YaoiCon 2004 fiction anthology.

Tybalt is very pretty, but in these pictures he is also very naked! Please use your best judgement before you click on the story.

Thank you and Merry Christmas,
~Catboy! =^.^=

YaoiCon 2007: One Server’s Thoughts

Earlier this year, one of the Cafes at YaoiCon invited me to be a server. Normally I write Tybalt stories (they don’t take my others) for the YaoiCon Fiction Anthology, but this year it was cancelled. I’ve gotten used to the idea of contributing to YaoiCon and the invitation was no small compliment, so I accepted. This was my first year as a face, as someone physically involved with the programming and at-con events. Writing is a solitary kind of pursuit, and in earlier years my contribution has really ended at least a month before the convention actually started.

This year was very different, and on the whole I don’t think I mind at all. If staff asks me to return I’ll be more than happy to accept. I loved meeting everyone – other servers, constaff, and guests alike. We had some scheduling difficulties and I only formally served one table, but I got to circulate and meet quite a few people. Everyone (servers included) was exhausted and I presume cranky from the two-hour-plus wait, but they were still some of the most friendliest, most wonderfully enthusiastic people I’ve ever met. Their sheer energy carried me through the night, long after I should have staggered off somewhere quiet and collapsed, and I loved every minute of it. Even dead on my feet, I wished I had more time to meet all of them, and then more time to know them better.

I think that’s why I have to stand up and say this now.

To everyone who came to visit us at the Cafe, if any of you are reading this…

Intoxication

N.B. The copy of this story in Envy, the YaoiCon 2006 anthology, contains a number of misprints and editorial errors. I am very sorry for the inconvenience.

Yellow-throated songbirds pecked at the bars of their tiny, gold-wire cage, blinded and too fat to fly, searching in vain for the trays of millet and grapes, oats and figs that someone had taken away that morning. A soft mewling startled them, but they soon forgot it, oblivious to the sleek, golden-skinned cat-prince watching them. Tybalt licked his teeth contemplatively, sprawling in the Roman couch beside the cage. He flicked open the top and plucked out the fattest, laughing quietly at its futile squirming. It amused him for a moment, but soon he grew bored again, and he thrust it, head first, into a glass of brandy.

It didn’t take long. The bird drowned in minutes, its struggles against his hand growing weaker and weaker until they stopped altogether.

“That’s cruel, Tybalt, even for you.” Tybalt’s guest, a gentle sylph of a boy, just barely a man, tried to look away, but the beautiful tragedy entranced him, somehow, and he could not.

“Well, I miss her, and their suffering eases my own.” He plucked the bird’s feathers deliberately, one at a time, tossing them back into the cage. “You wouldn’t deny me that, would you, Methyst?”

Methyst buried his face in his hands, running his fingers back through his short, dirty-blonde hair. “Still her, even now… Tybalt… It’s been seven hundred and fifty years.”

“Seven hundred and forty-nine, two hundred eighty-seven days.”

“Even still.”