Sorry, you lost me, I’ve not heard of this before.
This was an Irish festival–the North Texas Irish Festival in Dallas, TX, to be exact.
All that we saw was the one woman…the lady we talked to claimed to have seen more, but we walked all over the festival all three days, and didn’t.
Perhaps this was merely a wardrobe malfunction after all. I really didn’t take that close a look, and was too surprised to note many details.
–James
Actually, public toplessness is legal here for women. They won the right to bear breast, but then refuse to do so. Isn’t this just so typical of women? 
(not that I’m sexist or anything)
djm
Topfree Equal Rights Association(TERA) They go to a variety of public venues to push for their rights.
The Mountains Of Mourne
Oh, Mary, this London’s a wonderful sight
With people here working by day and by night
They don’t sow potatoes, nor barley nor wheat
But there’ gangs of them digging for gold in the streets
At least when I asked them that’s what I was told
So I just took a hand at this diggin’ for gold
But for all that I found there I might as well be
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
I believe that when writin’ a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed
Well, if you believe me, when asked to a ball
Faith, they don’t wear no top to their dresses at all.
Oh, I’ve seen them myself and you could not in trath
Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don’t be startin’ them fashions now, Mary Macree,
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
I’ve seen England’s king from the top of a bus
And I’ve never known him, but he means to know us.
And tho’ by the Saxon we once were oppressed,
Still I cheered, God forgive me, I cheered with the rest.
And now that he’s visited Erin’s green shore
We’ll be much better friends than we’ve been heretofore
When we’ve got all we want, we’re as quiet as can be
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
You remember young Peter O’Loughlin, of course
Well, now he is here at the head of the force
I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
And he stopped the whole street with a wave of his hand
And there we stood talkin’ of days that are gone
While the whole population of London looked on
But for all these great powers he’s wishful like me
To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea.
There’s beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind
With beautiful shapes nature never designed
And lovely complexions all roses and cream
But O’Loughlin remarked with regard to the same
That if at those roses you venture to sip
The colours might all come away on your lip
So I’ll wait for the wild rose that’s waitin’ for me
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
Lyrics by Percy French
TERA, eh? I’d offer my support, but suspect they don’t need it.
Yeah, right, I’ll bet. 
I use to date a girl whose idea of clothing for backpacking in the Grand Canyon and Canyonlands, California, etc. was good boots, socks, shorts, webbing belt long enough to make a climbing sling, backpack, hiking staff, and hat. After she got married I suggested she wasn’t going to be hiking dressed like that any longer. Her response was “You aren’t going to tell me what to wear!” I still don’t.
Seriously, I find it it actually quite startling when I encounter even partial unexpected nudity.
A cascade of thoughts raced through my mind, all at once: should I look? Should I look away? What if I’m supposed to look? Why would she bare it if she didn’t want it seen? What if it’s a wardrobe malfunction, though, and she’s braving it out? My hands are bare, do I want people to stare at my hands? That’s not a hand. Don’t stare! You know what that looks like, you don’t need to see it any more. But if she wants it to be bare, and I look away, what if she’ll be insulted? Then again, she’s not really attractive and looks like she could probably kick your ___ if she wanted to. Ok, look away. Don’t look back. Ok, don’t look back any more. Let’s not linger here…feets, make tracks!
It leaves you a bit unsettled.
–James
It’s a lot simpler than you might think. Just look at her eyes. Of course, you have to make sure which set of eyes you’re looking at …
Don’t take too long doing this … though, granted, they do seem to stare back at you, don’t they? … Oops! But head up, eyes level, vacant expression. You may have seen, but you didn’t really notice.
Keep walking, idiot. You’re already in enough trouble as it is.
djm
It was David, it was… only after hours however. Sorry you missed it and all the traditional games of “Fondle Football” the Monday after the last Sunday.
Ooh! A new word! Yay. 
I didn’t see any on Saturday, either…
I seem to remember reading that the necklines during the reign of Louis XVI got extremely low, and I do know that some female wearers of the Elizabethan partlet were less modest than others.
That would fit, I think; especially since she was working on hanging things in her area and had her arms over her head. Maybe she was showing slightly more than she meant to or even knew that she was.
–James
Breasts… if ya seen one ya seen em both.
People do all kinds of unexpected things at anachronism festivals to express their unfulfilled personas. The original Renfair was pretty lusty, all things considered. Kind of dovetailed with the hippie thing at the time.
Oh, I must remember that one.
Far-far, are you so young that you don’t remember the Society for Creative Anachronism? That was the original outfit that started the ye olde ball a-rollin.’ Very big around here. I use to know some of 'em but I don’t recognize the current board members at their [site].
Here’s a wiki for overview.
[linkie]
We’ve an active SCA group here in town. They meet every Sunday at a local park to do battle. It’s pretty funny to be at the park with your kid on the swing to hear the clash of foam on steel (likely aluminum, rather).
I always liked 'em. Heck, they don’t hurt anybody and they don’t all have to constantly audition for every little theater part…they can get it out of their system their way. We have these cave-clan types around here, a probably unrelated subgroup, who act like Highlanders but with more like Fred Flintstone get-ups. They crack me up.