You know, it's that time of year again: spookier things than usual show up in the neighbor's yard, my niece resumes her candy corn addiction, and our friend Carla plans a giant pumpkin carving party. As this week's public service Languishing article, I'd like to inspire (or disgust) you with costumes from my past. (In the interest of historical accuracy, these are not in chronological order. I know you folks are into details like that). Enjoy!
- An awesome inflatable head alien that my cousin Nathan had worn a few years earlier. This is the only costume I remember from when I was a kid. It was mid-October, and I didn’t have a costume yet, so I went over to my aunt Beverly’s house to see if she had any ideas. This goofy, inflatable alien head was my favorite in her costume box. It was made out of the same material as a beach ball, and as such wasn’t all that comfortable, but I loved that I had a head on top of my own head. I saw one kind of like this at the thrift store a few weeks ago, and I felt this tug of nostalgia for a plastic hat.
- Saloon Girl: in purple satin with black lace. This was the first major costume I sewed for myself, and I got to use a grommet maker for the corset part. I made the mistake of wearing it to work one year, and discovered it’s just a tad disconcerting to have college freshmen catcalling their English instructor.
- Medusa: I put my hair up and stuck little plastic snakes all over. It made me laugh, anyway, and made for one of my favorite blog post titles.
- Rosie the Riveter: my favorite of all. I found a denim shirt and a red bandana at the thrift store, and made my own backdrop out of yellow, white, and blue poster board. And put a monkey wrench in my pocket, AND I was happy to see you.
|Jesus, Supergirl, & Rosie the Riveter walk into a Halloween party...|
- Fortuneteller. The go-to easy last-minute costume, from upper elementary until today. A long skirt, a flowy shirt, some shiny earrings, and a Romanian accent, I can offend Gypsies near and far. I've actually been a variation of this costume twice in the last six years. But I wasn’t trying to offend anyone: I was a Fortune Teller. I even studied a little palm reading and tarot. I’m all about authenticity, you know.
- A separated conjoined twin: My friend Bayard and I, who looked nothing alike, except that we’re both white and we both had long brown hair, drew scars on each other’s sides, then pulled down our t-shirts and went out. This was a lovely costume, but it took too long to explain it to the bartenders who kept accusing us of not having costumes. Later in the evening, when we got separated into different bars, it just got funnier. At least to me.