But first –
I had to share this with you, as it’s got me mercilessly nailed-down:
Okay. Now, down to business.
Having resolved to go all out for All Hallow’s, despite the late start, we headed out into the streets of downtown last night for that all-important Trick-or-Treat necessity: the perfect costume. a mediocre costume. any costume at all!
As it was just two days before the Big Night, we knew we were in for a challenge. It was far too late for the make-something-witty-from-coffee-filters-and-a-glue-gun type of disguise. Sadly, we knew we had to go at least partially store-bought.
Our first stop: a popular trinket emporium known for its seasonal treasures. This smelled like trouble, however, from around the corner. The large store was both packed and picked-over. It’s stock was on the cheap side (which is fair – they’re not much about quality goods), and while I wouldn’t have minded seeing J in a mash-up of random costume accessories (“I’m a mustachioed Grecian pilot bullfighter…. duh”), the crowd was a little overwhelming, and we knew of a slew of costume retailers not far down the street.
So off we went.
Now, if this isn’t a commentary on the State of the Halloween Costume I don’t know what is: The area in which we went hunting next is, any other month of the year, a string of (for lack of a better word) sex shops. Each has it’s niche (the gay men’s boutique, the ladies (read: exotic dancers ((read:strippers)) shop, and the hippies-love-sex-too store (which combines the best of kink and smoking paraphernalia). This particular time of year, however, our shady little strip becomes a bustling mecca of Halloween retail. So enamored are we with dressing naughtily (although, I suppose this is not such a bad thing if we considered looking like tartlets to be a departure from our day-to-day dress) that we now buy our costumes where we buy our porn. (I mean, you know… if, hypothetically speaking, we bought such things).
It is a little fascinating, however, to bare witness to the obliteration of taboo. There I was scouring racks of tiny dresses alongside cleanly dressed college kids, other couples… even one mom and dad searching with their teenage twenty-something daughter. And we’re all shopping gleefully, paying little mind to the assless chaps and ballgags on the wall behind the counter.
And unlike picking through cramped, disorganized costume houses surrounded by screaming children and unable to find anything in my size, here I had a multitude of options and, I can’t lie, a damn good time trying out different ideas.
The one downfall – scary dude at Shop #2, which was still a little quiet when we walked in. He must’ve been bored, or really wanting to sell us something, because he followed us around the store hand-selecting ridiculous costumes for me. (We’re talking lame, two-piece Wonder Woman, skanky vinyl gold digger…) After a good hour looking over my options, I found myself imagining the impending frigidity of midnight in November and gravitating toward anything fuzzy and/or fur-lined (Frosty the Snowvixen? Hell yeah! And nothing says Halloween like Rudy the Rednosed Rein Dear!).
In the end, I left pleased with my choice. J already has something that will match it nicely, and I feel confident that we will make a fearsome duo Friday night. We’ll be heading to a street carnival that evening, and I promise thorough documentation (at which point our costumes will be revealed in all their glory).
My one regret? That we didn’t have time to make our own. But we already have our idea for next year, so I can safely swear off store-bought from here on out. We will, however, have to hold several costume theme parties to make the most of our purchases in the meantime. Check your mailboxes for invites in the upcoming months:)