The act of cosplaying as Lewis Carroll, though the term can also be extended to include anyone else called Carol. For the hobbyist, a convincing portrayal of the former may be more achievable than the latter
The first recorded act of Carrolling took place in 1870, by the author Jubiana Hotaria Bellwing; her parody of the original Alice in Wonderland books by LC (Lewis Carroll) called Wanda in Aliceland appeared in a book of short stories called The Curious Tale Of The Donkey & other stories, but crucially she extended her parody beyond the page and emulated his clothing and posture as much as his literary style, even to the point of beating him in a Lewis Carroll look-a-like contest at a Spinster Book Festival, losing out to a fella named Charlie Chaplin (no, not that one, though they did look similar).
It’s easy to forget that cosplaying is not a modern phenomenon. Fanatics have existed for generations, and the veneration of one’s favourite figure through costume has been well recorded throughout history. Cavemen are often depicted in brown animal skins with large clubs, but archeologists claim they actually wore brightly coloured tunics they would buy from the nearest cave or emporium; they would choose to be photographed in animal skins to emulate their favourite musician, Carey Grunt.
In a similar vein, Kings and Queens dressed up like those they wished to be emulate partly as a means of convincing the masses that they represented something benevolent and kind that had been experienced before, but partly because they had the money and means to dress however they wanted so why not? Henry VIII, for example, was well known for crafting a papier-mâché head of Henry VI part 2 that he wore for his coronation, and for each subsequent wedding he insisted his then bride dressed like the previous one had done on their wedding day - meaning the final wife (mumbles and counts fingers… Jane Eyre…?) looked like a corrupted version of Anne Boleyn, complete with an extra arm to hold and the distinctive nose of a horse.
This act is often enacted in the lead up to Christmas for charity, known as Christmas Carrolling. This concept may be alien to readers across the pond (the pond being the Atlantic ocean, which bizarrely is technically a pond but for cock-swinging power reasons, has to be referred to as an ocean) but for those in the UK, the idea will be cosy and familiar. Basically, you would wait for a snowy evening and then walk in a group all dressed the same way and knocking on neighbours/strangers/the prime ministers mistress’ door, and you would perform a song or a synchronised dance, and then request a monthly direct debit be set up that can help some poor people be able to afford a coffee once a day. The victorian’s didn’t have direct debits back then, nor did they have coffee even, but the principle was the same, just a different bureaucracy to get things moving. Charles Dickens himself abhorred the concept, and would instead cover himself in talcum powder and rattle chains to scare his unwitting neighbours.
