The Halloween Issue

Sorry I’m coming to you for a nighttime or early morning read. I’ve had zero motivation and a generally sad week. That sounds a bit melodramatic but it is true. I’m all good though. And a lot of this week was fun. I mean, it’s Halloween!

In its present day, it has no bearing on religion (a Jehovah’s Witness would disagree), involves an embrace of autumn, and is filled with silliness. Halloween is up to interpretation and has something for everyone. The day is all about fun and has lots in store for all ages and archetypes.

I was a big trick-or-treater in my youth, always staying in my idyllic neighborhood with kind neighbors and two or three king-sized candy bars. Some of my costumes were flops (Native American in kindergarten), and others were absolute slays. My favorite costume I wore was, like many, made by my grandma: Lumpy Space Princess from Adventure Time. My teeny tiny sixth-grade arms and braces smile came out from a massive, fluffy, purple structure. It was peak nerdiness for a show I enjoyed.

People don’t talk about the ages between craving a good candy haul and underage Halloween drinking. Media reflects a lack of solid content about late middle-schoolers (and actually realistic early high-schoolers). I wanted to be an adult so badly, was happy to ditch walking around my neighborhood with other babies, and enjoyed Halloween sleepovers with my friends, but this period created yet another sense of yearning. I was pretty clueless about illegal activity and did not have a desire to partake. Once I hit high school, I hoped to go to a Halloween party with alcohol. Despite obviously being the queen bee at my school, I did not get this opportunity. I think I kept reusing the same size XL Mario costume for small get-togethers. In my freshman year of high school, every freshman student in the school’s dance class was assigned — or, really, hazed — to perform Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” dance in a central location in the building as a “flash mob” (remember those?) on repeat for an entire morning before class. This is what I had to focus on during this season, shaping my hands for a zombie walk instead of for a red solo cup.

I quenched my Halloween yearning my freshman year of college. Suddenly, I had friends to dress up with and parties to attend. Adult Halloween begins, and it’s every little girl’s dream to grow up and be a Halloween sl*t. Well, maybe not mine. My little girl dream was to dress as my favorite TV and video game characters. Cue Passover voice: On all other nights, women deal with the spookiest foes (many men) haunting their neighborhood walks, even when their outfits are chaste. On this night, we have the opportunity to dress as an alternative version of ourselves, the part inside that wants to dress sexy but often evades this urge due to fear of trashiness or gawking. Halloween is an opportunity to both fit in and stand out. Wear something attention-grabbing in its foreignness to your aesthetic but have a strong posse to showcase approval for your choice of disguise.

For Halloween 2017, I finally had boobs bigger than an A-cup and was ready to hit the town. I had not one but three nights of costuming. The first night, my friend Julia and I went to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time. Anyone who has seen Rocky Horror knows it’s best seen live on Halloween with people screaming random things out at different points of the movie like some sort of religious service.  We went to an old theater in Davis Square, and I wore a hippie costume made from random garments I already owned. This began a ritual I and everyone else should utilize every Halloween: the simple ‘stume. It is cost-effective and allows you to stress about other costumes.

Night two arrives, and it is my first chance at being a wh*re. I fail miserably as a wigless, covered-up Sandy from Grease. I went to a party with two of my new friends, and they dressed as cats. These basic costumes are basic for a reason: easy to make and hot to wear. This early in college, I give them more than a pass. Today, I usually give basic costumes a pass. It’s like eating at McDonald’s; you do it because it’s effortless and joyful. Anyway, this was an odd night. These friends I made at BU were actually from a different part of Pittsburgh than me, and we went to one of their older friend’s house parties. We were probably some of the youngest there, and I felt out of my league in my dinky Sandy costume. A friend of a friend at the party got an allergic reaction from drinking while taking medicine for a cold, and her lips blew up. She was okay, just had huge lips. I think about this sometimes.

Alright, it’s the final night of Halloween. Party girls at their most primal know Halloween is best in three nights, which you can either take as Thursday through Sunday or Friday and Saturday plus Halloween if it’s on a random weekday. I was ready to debut my truly scandalous costume that now holds scandal for a new reason. A large group of my freshman friends decided to be cops and robbers, and I was a cop. Anyone dressing as a police officer in this decade and beyond is either a brainwashed child or an idiotic adult. At the time, it seemed like a fun thing to do as a group. And it was. I ordered a Spirit Halloween costume with a skimpy blue dress, hat, badge, and — best of all — handcuffs. We all took pictures in a freshman dorm, and I buttoned the dress up just enough that you could see my bra underneath. The sl*tty outfits were not as much to attract men but to attract each other, in a sense. You empower your friends in joint salacious beauty, proud of each other for being an unconventional version of vulnerable.

I finally learned how to be my version of a Halloween sl*t: show some skin, wear some makeup, and subvert something either powerful or nonsexual. My friends and I had a blast. I do not think I have ordered a costume in a bag since, but I learned to bring that same sultriness to more bizarre outfits that would probably make the Lumpy Space Princess version of me proud. The next year, my friends and I went as sexy versions of the Boston T. I also began experience the absolute euphoria of wearing a costume with your significant other. It’s lovely to do something silly together, but it also showcases the power of your relationship with the world and your Instagram feed.

I recently spent an entry talking about how New York City can be like college. I postulate that Halloween is always like freshman year of college, specifically. Freshman year is a vulnerable, horny time where you try on different versions of yourself until you find aliases you enjoy. Similarly, you seek security in your relationships and hope to find that others are on the same page as you. Doing a costume with others or even going to a friend’s Halloween party is a seasonal social validation. You have made it through the boundlessness of summer and are sinking into a comfortable crew for the cold. Halloween is both when you want to impress others and be authentic, even though you are dressing as something you are not. There is a lot of social pressure to go hard and be crazy, filling yourself with gross shots and wild stories. Your costume choices say something about your interests and character. The effort you put in does the same.

This year, I attended a party at a friend’s place and a wild show at legendary gay bar 3 Dollar Bill. Meera and I dressed as Jen Shah and Heather Gay from The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City for one night and Snoopy and Woodstock for the other. We have a dinner party tomorrow, and I have a variety of simple ‘stumes to search my closet for. I like having the rule of threes nowadays: one simple, one sexy, and one silly costume for each night. I enjoyed this weekend but got extremely tired a bit before 2 a.m. and decided to be the buzzkill leading the group home. My nights out until 4 a.m. are numbered, and I know when I’ve hit my fun quota for the night.

In a different way, Halloween ages me. I saw small families trick-or-treating during a daytime block party on an especially picturesque part of the Upper West Side and longed for that myself. Last year, we went to my friend Dev’s parents’ house in a less urban part of New Hampshire and carved pumpkins while listening to old music in their warm house. There are these moments of stability in this notoriously unstable weekend that I cherish deeply.

I do not see any holiday coming for Halloween’s prime spot anytime soon. I finish this entry with my hand in a bowl of the mini chocolate holy trinity: Hershey bars as the father, Krackels as the son, and Mr. Goodbars as the holy ghost.

My boyfriend wants to do a couple’s Halloween costume but I don’t really want to since our relationship is new. What should I do?

— Mask Off

Well, my first question is…why? Is this a commitment fear thing? Does he want to do an extremely offensive costume? Does he want to go trick-or-treating at his big age?

I’m assuming this is based on a fear that your relationship is moving too fast and too quickly. This sounds like a much bigger problem than just a Halloween costume, and it is worth doing some soul-searching to figure out why. All I know is that you are probably uncomfortable, and the beginning of a relationship is the perfect time to figure out how to communicate your needs — or else you will not have an easy road ahead.

Work through your discomfort and do a couple’s costume. Wearing a costume is not the same as having a ring on your finger. Halloween is my favorite time to show off something fun I can do with my partner. Be silly and have fun in a disguise.

Unless this is because he wants to be Jim and Pam. Then maybe dump him.

Want advice from someone as unqualified but possibly more confident than you? Send in a question for Olympic Coaching.