By The Bobby
“Perhaps signifying the holiday’s origins as a marking of the line between life and death, most of these pranks were ‘threshold tricks.’ Assaults on fences, gates, windows, and doorways were most the common.”
- Mark Alice Durant
"Glowing Turnips, Pointy Black Hats and Insomniac Aliens:
The Hybrid History of Halloween"
“When I look out my window, so many different people to be. And it’s strange. So Strange.”
-Donovan
"Season of the Witch"
1979: Chinese Princess*
My kindergarten’s indoor play area featured a painted cardboard house. A group of girls had crowded inside. Wondering what was going on, I started to walk through the cardboard door. “Sorry,” a girl said, “This house is just for princesses.”
“I am a princess.”
“You don’t look like one.”
“I’m a Chinese princess.”
“Well…This house is just for American princesses.”
1980: Princess Leia’s evil twin.
Courtney and I both wanted to be Princess Leia. Apparently in that whole far away galaxy there was only one girl. We remedied the problem by inventing her evil twin. She looked pretty much the same as Leia, but was, you know, evil.
1981: Chinese Princess Redux. The Empress of the Slide.
Courtney and I held court on the platform at the top of the slide. The entry was narrow and could only be accessed by one ladder. If you got to the platform first, it was easy to control who was allowed to get off the ladder and who had to inch their way back down to the sawdust. The fact that we weren’t letting everyone on made everyone want to try.
1982: Flapper (Nobody at Lincoln Elementary School knew what a Flapper was.)
1983: Cleopatra (Nobody at Lincoln Elementary School knew who Cleopatra was either.)
1984-86: Poodle skirt, saddle shoes, etc.
My mother, who came of age in the 60’s, was disgusted, but it was the only safe option during those ugly years. It was “what all the girls were wearing.”
1987: Criminals
Courtney and I shoplifted children’s felt cowboy hats from Payless. We wore them with black clothes and said we were criminals. Danielle was having a slumber party but we ditched it when we discovered that we would be expected to participate in chaperoned trick-or-treating. We wandered around and ended up at our old elementary school playground where a group of sophomores were drinking Boone’s Farm. They were only a year or two older than us, but it didn’t matter. We were in 8th grade and they were in high school – normally we didn’t exist to them. That one night though, they let us sit on the hood of their car and when we asked for a drink they didn’t roll their eyes. They just handed us the bottle. We took tiny sips and dreamed of high school.
1988: Plastic Masks and Peppermint Schnapps
1989: No Costume.
For a year, Amy and I lost interest in the rest of the world. We watched Star Wars or Hard Day's Night.
1990: No Costume. Bonfire
There was a bonfire and barn dance at Alan Calvert’s place. His mother had hired a DJ and made apple cider. Five or six of us snuck away, up the hill to the trailer where Alan’s much older brother lived. He was unusually generous with his stash, and we were sixteen and greedy. Steve asked Amy and me to ask for more pot. I told him to ask himself. He said that if I asked, Alan’s brother would be sure to say yes. I thought Steve was crazy, but tried it and, to my amazement, he was right. We spent the night running through the pixilated woods, laughing our heads off.
1991: No Costume. Bonfire II
Steve and Amy were away in college. The whole football team dressed as cheerleaders. They spent the day grabbing each other’s breasts and asses. I dreamed of graduation.
1992: Mushroom. (Inside and out).
1993: Seasons (Winter).
Spring lost one of her dresses in the back yard (she started with three). Summer laughed so hard she fell off the porch. Fall left early. Winter finally kissed Eric Matthews.
1994: No Costume. Amy puked in the cemetery.
1995: No Costume. The Halloween Debate.
Tim thought Halloween should be genuinely scary. People should dress as monsters, goblins, etc. – and they should really get scared. He was a vampire most years, then a zombie, and then stopped dressing up. I thought Halloween should be about blurring boundaries – trying on a different identity.
1996: Morton Salt Girl.
Tim was working nights. I went to a party comprised mostly of men in drag or dressed as puns (cereal killer) and women in “sexy” versions of stock characters: sexy witch, sexy cat, sexy nun, sexy strawberry shortcake. Brenda came for a little while and left without telling me after an hour. She later told me that she’d stolen some of my prescription sleeping pills and taken them with her beer. She thought it was funny.
1997: Homemade Carnival Masks.
Sky said that as she was walking to meet me, she was appalled to see four tween girls dressed as prostitutes. After a block or so she figured out that they were supposed to be The Spice Girls. We went to Portland hipster bars and pretended to have fun. The other girl, whose name I forget, got too drunk and kept falling on the sidewalk.
1998: Definitely no costume.
Tim and I had left Portland, but didn’t know yet that we were moving to Savannah. We were stranded in my hometown. I took him to the elementary school playground and we smoked cigarettes. I was terrified.
1999: The Ocean.
I was working for a costume designer in Savannah. Her shop was closed because part of the roof had caved in and she was involved in a lawsuit with the landlord. The shop was in an enormous, dilapidated warehouse. The lights didn’t work, but the phone was rigning constantly (it was Halloween). She gave me and Tim keys and flashlight and told us to take whatever we wanted.
2000 – 2002: No Costume.
We’d always turn the porch light off, but kids would ring the doorbell and demand candy anyway.
2003: No Costume. A Variety of East Village Bars.
It’s since become a common place, but Tim and I finally agreed about Halloween. Apparently, once we reached a certain age, Halloween became “Dress as Whores Day.” And not just “dress in a revealing or sexually provocative way” – people can do that anytime. We were among an unlikely group that included some thirty-something schoolteachers dressed in red vinyl bustiers and Lycra skirts. When we asked what they were they supposed to be, they paused and said, “uh. Vampires? Or witches?” Everywhere we looked there were throngs of grown men and women dressed, essentially, as whores. And it made perfect sense.
Viva Dia de las Putas!
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Halloween. Show all posts
Monday, October 20, 2008
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Get Thee Behind Me Satan...
Because you make people nervous when I'm describing the holiday of holidays.
It's hard to even begin to describe all of the ginormous awesomeness of Halloween, the stabbiest, most spinster-y, good-time holiday. It can probably only be left to a list, a provisional one, to be added onto by Punch and Bobby.
1. Halloween has never made any sense. Other (lesser) celebration days have clear narratives, easily explained at every age. (Birth of baby Jesus; positive impact of trees; glorious, sad, but mostly glorious war.) All Hallow's Eve has a sketchy link to harvests or fall or the Old World, but the best part is no one really cares about meaning. It's basically just about fun, but the fun brought on by horrible, horrible fear and the vast and terrifying spirit world.
2. It is the one day a year when it makes total sense to wait for someone to approach you with your destiny, which you at first will not believe and deny vigorously, pointing out your normalcy, but will eventually accede that there were portents to your magical powers, though they were latent, and now you must reluctantly take up the mantle of fighting the Devil as you learn about the serious responsibility of shooting flames from your hands and also about the tenuous balance of good and evil.
3. 364 days a year, we are taught to fear: women who live alone with cats, people who look different, strangers, pirates, people who rise from the dead and can only survive by eating normal people's brains, the ushz. One day, one beautiful, beautiful day, we rejoice in them and revere them to such an extent that we dress our precious children as them, until the streets are filled with tiny spinster lesbians, dungeon & dragon enthusiasts, and sweet, sweet zombies. Until neighborhoods are teeming with miniature deviants, talking to people they don't know, clamouring to be rewarded for their queerness. And we do reward them with a bounty of food that usually comes with limits or warnings. So you see, we teach children that the archetypes and individuals we are taught to fear are worthy of emulation, are a good time, are sometimes them, and here we set the stage for later noble lessons on love and deconstruction.
stabbily yours, j
It's hard to even begin to describe all of the ginormous awesomeness of Halloween, the stabbiest, most spinster-y, good-time holiday. It can probably only be left to a list, a provisional one, to be added onto by Punch and Bobby.
1. Halloween has never made any sense. Other (lesser) celebration days have clear narratives, easily explained at every age. (Birth of baby Jesus; positive impact of trees; glorious, sad, but mostly glorious war.) All Hallow's Eve has a sketchy link to harvests or fall or the Old World, but the best part is no one really cares about meaning. It's basically just about fun, but the fun brought on by horrible, horrible fear and the vast and terrifying spirit world.
2. It is the one day a year when it makes total sense to wait for someone to approach you with your destiny, which you at first will not believe and deny vigorously, pointing out your normalcy, but will eventually accede that there were portents to your magical powers, though they were latent, and now you must reluctantly take up the mantle of fighting the Devil as you learn about the serious responsibility of shooting flames from your hands and also about the tenuous balance of good and evil.
3. 364 days a year, we are taught to fear: women who live alone with cats, people who look different, strangers, pirates, people who rise from the dead and can only survive by eating normal people's brains, the ushz. One day, one beautiful, beautiful day, we rejoice in them and revere them to such an extent that we dress our precious children as them, until the streets are filled with tiny spinster lesbians, dungeon & dragon enthusiasts, and sweet, sweet zombies. Until neighborhoods are teeming with miniature deviants, talking to people they don't know, clamouring to be rewarded for their queerness. And we do reward them with a bounty of food that usually comes with limits or warnings. So you see, we teach children that the archetypes and individuals we are taught to fear are worthy of emulation, are a good time, are sometimes them, and here we set the stage for later noble lessons on love and deconstruction.
stabbily yours, j
The Monkey's Paw
J's Halloween Legacy
Birth-1984: Cat. Not in sense of “pretending to be a cat for Halloween," literally wanted to be a cat, practiced whenever felt the need, ESPECIALLY in social situations with strangers, and momma forced others to accept, told to “dream big”. Also dressed in cat paraphernalia for halloween. Above is a picture of moi as a cat on Easter (in dress) and a couple years later, with cat toy and actual cat, Momma Kitty. Clearly, had some queer temporality going on pretty strong, where "queer" means "crazy nutball" and "temporality" means "complete disregard of conventional standards of appropriateness."
1985. The purple unicorn. That really should stand alone, like the cheese, but will go on: purple leotard (already in possession), lavender tights under the leotard, weird headpiece that tied under the chin, also purple, with a yellow horn on it. Horn dropped into eye—giant yellow phallus of doom. Went to school in this get-up. Am perhaps not lez, but instead gayest man on earth. Must rethink narratives.
1986. Trauma led me to want a real costume. At costume store, see giant banana, think is amazing, won't be made fun of like weird DIY unicorn year. (Please read that sentence again, especially the "won't be made fun of" juxtaposed with "giant banana." Go ahead.) Anyway, costume is SO expensive, like forty dollars, and Daddy says, "that's too much for a halloween costume." "Daddy, please, the purple unicorn, please." Daddy: "you'd have to wear it for several halloweens. You can't buy something for forty dollars that you only wear once." Me: "I would. I would wear it forever. Please. Please." Daddy: "ok, but I'm going to hold you to this promise." (In law, you aren't actually allowed to make contracts with minors, in a moment, you will see why.)
1987-1991. Banana Years. See close-up taken some time in grade school, notice ho
w my are poking out in extreme way. Was a basically a teenager before released from the contract. The Banana got smaller and smaller until it was basically a banana crop top. Please see the close up of utter misery. Learned that Daddy is actually Devil as well as corporate lawyer, see now that these are not mutually exclusive as had been taught to believe. Finally gave banana costume to housekeeper hired late in our lives when she unearthed and got really excited and to me it was like a monkey paw.
1992-1998. Dressed as some version of old spinster, with an emphasis on ugly, loosely grouped together under Witch. Was determined to practice early for fate of dying alone.
Birth-1984: Cat. Not in sense of “pretending to be a cat for Halloween," literally wanted to be a cat, practiced whenever felt the need, ESPECIALLY in social situations with strangers, and momma forced others to accept, told to “dream big”. Also dressed in cat paraphernalia for halloween. Above is a picture of moi as a cat on Easter (in dress) and a couple years later, with cat toy and actual cat, Momma Kitty. Clearly, had some queer temporality going on pretty strong, where "queer" means "crazy nutball" and "temporality" means "complete disregard of conventional standards of appropriateness."1985. The purple unicorn. That really should stand alone, like the cheese, but will go on: purple leotard (already in possession), lavender tights under the leotard, weird headpiece that tied under the chin, also purple, with a yellow horn on it. Horn dropped into eye—giant yellow phallus of doom. Went to school in this get-up. Am perhaps not lez, but instead gayest man on earth. Must rethink narratives.
1986. Trauma led me to want a real costume. At costume store, see giant banana, think is amazing, won't be made fun of like weird DIY unicorn year. (Please read that sentence again, especially the "won't be made fun of" juxtaposed with "giant banana." Go ahead.) Anyway, costume is SO expensive, like forty dollars, and Daddy says, "that's too much for a halloween costume." "Daddy, please, the purple unicorn, please." Daddy: "you'd have to wear it for several halloweens. You can't buy something for forty dollars that you only wear once." Me: "I would. I would wear it forever. Please. Please." Daddy: "ok, but I'm going to hold you to this promise." (In law, you aren't actually allowed to make contracts with minors, in a moment, you will see why.)
1987-1991. Banana Years. See close-up taken some time in grade school, notice ho
w my are poking out in extreme way. Was a basically a teenager before released from the contract. The Banana got smaller and smaller until it was basically a banana crop top. Please see the close up of utter misery. Learned that Daddy is actually Devil as well as corporate lawyer, see now that these are not mutually exclusive as had been taught to believe. Finally gave banana costume to housekeeper hired late in our lives when she unearthed and got really excited and to me it was like a monkey paw.1992-1998. Dressed as some version of old spinster, with an emphasis on ugly, loosely grouped together under Witch. Was determined to practice early for fate of dying alone.
Friday, October 17, 2008
All Hallow's: On Being the Wrong Kind of Person
1982-1990 Little Orphan Annie. Two main reasons for this: 1) it is cheap to put together – I am redheaded and already surrounded by dogs and other children in crappy clothes; 2) though still quite young, I already look like Halloween in a dress.
1991 Things Kansas made me do (part I). This year: bucktoothed old man mask, one of Grandpa's pipes, Dad's "I fought the lawn and the lawn won" t-shirt with pillow shoved under to look like an old man stomach. (This bricolage becomes a better Halloween strategy, if only nominally, when you're no longer in the 6th grade. Note: 1) how no one else seems to be dressed up; 2) that n
o one is looking at me, probably because I am terrifying; 3) the girl in the background holding a rifle.)
o one is looking at me, probably because I am terrifying; 3) the girl in the background holding a rifle.)1992-2000 Nothing, explicitly. Implicitly, straight person and/or "girl." I think you’ll see that, year round, this is an enormous failure.
(1995 Exception: Headless Hillary Clinton, or Things Kansas made me do, part II. If dressing as an old man is one option for a budding Kansas lesbian with a man-body, then the other is a horrifying headless effigy of Hillary Clinton. Both costumes were meant as satire but ended up as a kind of self-mockery. (While the old man provoked nervous laughter, Headless Hillary made everyone afraid. But too afraid to say anything about it.) Perhaps this is too high-flown, however. Most likely I just found a bunch of crap in the basement and threw it together into something barely coherent. This nonchalance about dressing up gets me in trouble later when I partner with a girl who loves Halloween but lacks ambition. Her perspective, as I understood it, was that I pretty much ruined Halloween by thinking a person could just make something meaningful out of crap from a basement, and that my lassitude rubbed off, preventing her, year after year, from making that epic Medusa costume. References to Headless Hillary and girlfriend's copious wine consumption could not disrupt this narrative.)
2001 The Pope. The only other interruption of my abstinence between 1992-2006. I was in love, and making an Episcopal mitre out of cardboard and felt meant getting to hang out at the crappy apartment of the girl I liked, who at that time still refused to sleep with me.2002 The lost year I spent drunk in New Mexico. I have no idea what happened on Halloween. Probably something bad.
2003-2005 Trauma, of the relationship variety, by which I am punished for not being the right kind of Halloween person. (see 1995)
2006 In a vain – and hasty – attempt to make amends for being the wrong kind of person: Gene Shalit Joins the Navy (curly wig and eyebrows made of chest hair kit from Halloween Headquarters’ bargain bin, Navy uniform, wide-eyed innocence.) This costume, of course, only reinforces the point.
2007 Turns out I'm still the wrong kind of person.
-- Punch
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