As someone who spent a Halloween dressed as a slutty slut (high school is my only excuse), I have grown to loathe Halloween. If you are a fan of Halloween, you might as well stop reading now.
How clever we thought we were! What chances we took!
Not really. No, not then, not now.
Not good. At 15 I never thought about growing old and becoming a mother and having daughters and watching tv specials about sex trafficking.
But overall, the prostitute costume is just a giant lack of imagination and creativity. I own up to it when I was tapped out creatively (but mostly wanting to feel what it felt like to dress sexily, when my usual costume was baggy jeans, a sweater and Blucher moccasins).
I stopped liking Halloween about a dozen years ago, when there was elevator trouble in our building. In other words, people held the doors for their crew, and kept the rest of us from enjoying the sugar surge when we wanted it. (This is practically actionable in apartment buildings on Halloween.)
Then, after the candy has been collected and counted and consumed, their are frequent tears, accidents of all kinds, and headaches. It’s not fun when one is in charge of many children, especially if most of them belong to you.
As for adults playing dress up, it usually seems so forced. Besides the costume faces du jour: the president and first lady — whomever they are, the devil (in a tuxedo or as a slut), the M & Ms, and so forth — I feel sad for everyone. It’s all the awkward anticipation of New Year’s Eve plus candy corn. (And slutty nurses.)
[I have to admit the last time I was invited to a Halloween party, (at Henry and Peggy’s) we had a lot of laughs, especially with the Capt. Sully Sullenberger costume festooned with goose feathers. I came as Kate, the unpleasant reality mother with too many kids, so I again, was kind of a whore, but one with a very funny and recognizable wig.]
Nevertheless, when my college student daughter, Exhibit B, called for our weekly conversation, she disappointedly reported on the Halloween Fail that happened at her dorm. Costumes ran the gamut from Slutty nurses,to a slutty skeleton, slutty preppies, slutty dancers, all the way to slutty prostitutes.
She urged me to remind readers that there are plenty of great costumes that don’t require exposed bras and miniskirts. These include: Mummy, Architect, Admissions Officer, Tennis Pro, and when every other idea is exhausted: a ghost, preferably like the one that’s been living in your barn for the last 30 years.
And while I’m not a killjoy, (I swear), I will be attending a theater performance on Thursday night, dressed, most likely, as a writer.