This weekend marks the official start of autumn in Los Angeles, which means stupid hot weather, wildfires, and a plethora of USC football tailgates. As stoked as I am that baseball, football, and college football all overlap during this time of the year, there is one more fall event that gives me a hypothetical boner – Halloween.
Halloween is not simply one night of the year – it is, in fact, a monthlong celebration where
everyone can dress like a slut all things strange and unusual prevail. A season all its own, Halloween is a haven for freaks like me. It will be the only time that it is acceptable for me to look like an 80’s transexual hooker rock a blonde mullet wig and dress like David Bowie:
If any of you rip off my Jareth costume I will steal your baby.
I come from a
totally insane and weird creative family where Halloween costumes were taken to the extreme. Generic, store-bought ensembles were unacceptable, so you can bet your ass I was not one of the 15 girls in my 1st grade class dressed as the Pink Power Ranger. My individuality faltered when I attempted the baby prostitute thing á la Mean Girls during most of my high school and college years, even taking a trip to the Playboy Mansion back in ’08. One year I think I literally went as a prostitute. My parents must have been so proud. I’d like to think of this as a really long stage in my Catholic school girl rebellion. However, abnormality clearly won in the end.
A pattern has developed in my costume decisions: I’ve been on a roll… of dressing like a dude. Hot, right? A couple years ago, I dominated Max from Where The Wild Things Are. Last year? Oh, just casually worked the “sexy” Braveheart – it was epic. (Naturally, I got too blacked out to take a single legitimate photo for that one… Mel G. would be proud!) Why break the stellar cross dressing streak I’ve been on? The drag costumes will continue and I will rock the shit out of them, obvi. Just add that to the endless list of why I’m awesome & prepare to have your mind blown. Duh.
As thrilling as it is to acceptably dress like a stripper during Halloween, it gets boring. There’s no personality. No thought. Rarely is there any real effort or creativity. Ladies, we’ve all done it and we could argue it as an essential part of the journey to our sexual self-discovery – but now that college is over, the only legitimate excuse for slutty costume mediocrity is a lack of time.
For those of you “adults” who refuse to embrace this holiday, you are dead to me. Halloween is easily one of the greatest times of the year for plenty of reasons. Although it sort of goes without saying that a benefit of Halloween is the opportunity to wear minimal clothing, it also gives you the chance to be completely weird or to be someone else without appearing like a total psychopath. It is not only accepted, but it is encouraged to get completely sloshed – whether it be at a costume party, club, bar, or in the middle of suburban trick-or-treaters. With the exception of the candy you may or may not have to purchase for the masked spawn running around, you can mostly spend your money on yourself and your super rad costume instead of crap for other people. Being a narcissist, this is a very appealing quality to me.
Starting October 1st, my Halloween decorations are going up. Faux cobwebs. Pumpkins. Skull & bones everything. I’m proposing a Hocus Pocus viewing night/costume fiesta at my place with plenty of boos (see what I did there?) followed by drunken debauchery in the
canals streets of Venice Beach. Bring your fake blood. Bring your glow in the dark silly string. Bring your fog machines. Something wicked this way comes – and by wicked, I mean awesome. Fucking duh.
Let’s get weird.