Halloween Angst
You know how, right around Valentine's Day, you hear people and see newspaper columns complaining about how hard that day is for single people to endure, and how much it aggravates them, and forces them to feel left out of the big lovefest going on, etc., etc.?
I have similar feelings every year around Halloween, which is as a big deal in Manhattan as it ever was in Chapel Hill or Georgetown -- more so, I'd say. Every year, I look at my coworkers (Halloween is big in our office), passers-by on the street, Halloween paraders, etc., and think, "Man, I wish *I* had a cool costume." But here's the deal:
1) I can't justify to myself spending more than $20 on a costume.
2) You can only get crap costumes for $20 or less. (I have gone this route, though. Last time I dressed up for Halloween was in Boston, in 2003, with a ten-dollar hippie costume.)
3) Self-sufficiency is beyond my reach; I am NOT an arts-'n'-crafts kind of person. I refuse to even try sewing.
4) I never think, during the rest of the year, to look for clothes in thrift stores that might make for good costumes.
5) I have overly elaborate ambitions for costumes. In particular, I want to dress like various historic figures. It would be awesome to be Samuel Johnson with a powdered wig, silk socks, and a pillow under my waistcoat. (Hmm, maybe I should be a thinner 18th-century Englishman.) It would also be awesome to dress like a Victorian painter, with flowing mustaches, floppy bow tie, and (coincidentally) a waistcoat. Or maybe I'd rock the Quattrocento vibe and dress like Lorenzo il Magnifico. Or, speaking of both Italy and the 18th century, a Venetian Carnevale outfit. Anyway, Lord only knows where I'd find any of these costumes with high quality but a low price. I need to befriend a Broadway costumer. "OK, you can borrow this for tonight, but I need it back for tomorrow's Les Miz matinee, do you hear me?"
I'm not looking here for well-meaning people to tell me how easy it is to sew, or how I should check out Party City or Ricky's of NYC ("Looking good! Feeling good!"). I just wanna gripe, that's all.
I have similar feelings every year around Halloween, which is as a big deal in Manhattan as it ever was in Chapel Hill or Georgetown -- more so, I'd say. Every year, I look at my coworkers (Halloween is big in our office), passers-by on the street, Halloween paraders, etc., and think, "Man, I wish *I* had a cool costume." But here's the deal:
1) I can't justify to myself spending more than $20 on a costume.
2) You can only get crap costumes for $20 or less. (I have gone this route, though. Last time I dressed up for Halloween was in Boston, in 2003, with a ten-dollar hippie costume.)
3) Self-sufficiency is beyond my reach; I am NOT an arts-'n'-crafts kind of person. I refuse to even try sewing.
4) I never think, during the rest of the year, to look for clothes in thrift stores that might make for good costumes.
5) I have overly elaborate ambitions for costumes. In particular, I want to dress like various historic figures. It would be awesome to be Samuel Johnson with a powdered wig, silk socks, and a pillow under my waistcoat. (Hmm, maybe I should be a thinner 18th-century Englishman.) It would also be awesome to dress like a Victorian painter, with flowing mustaches, floppy bow tie, and (coincidentally) a waistcoat. Or maybe I'd rock the Quattrocento vibe and dress like Lorenzo il Magnifico. Or, speaking of both Italy and the 18th century, a Venetian Carnevale outfit. Anyway, Lord only knows where I'd find any of these costumes with high quality but a low price. I need to befriend a Broadway costumer. "OK, you can borrow this for tonight, but I need it back for tomorrow's Les Miz matinee, do you hear me?"
I'm not looking here for well-meaning people to tell me how easy it is to sew, or how I should check out Party City or Ricky's of NYC ("Looking good! Feeling good!"). I just wanna gripe, that's all.