Halloween is and always has been special to me. I accept that part of this reason is the proximity of my birthday (10/27) to the holiday, but I think it’s more than that.
My parents always let me throw Halloween birthdays, which were big shindigs for all my friends. These took place in our unfinished basement, a sufficiently spooky place on its own, made doubly so with the addition of dim lighting and lots of fake spiderwebs. There was bobbing for apples, cupcake decorating, races to mummify your partner in toilet paper, a showpiece cake that my mom and I had decorated together, and costumes. Oh, the costumes!
Dressing up was, if you ask me, the centerpiece of this entire event. My mother had taught me how to sew from a young age, so we were always making extravagant costumes, from the 1950s poodle skirt girl to a colonial-era gown to a Victorian ghost. Costumes were mandatory at my parties, and my friends were always willing to humor me.
There was something transformative about dressing up, and I think I knew this even from a young age (I had moments of great wisdom among my otherwise plentiful naivete). Changing one’s appearance, even if just for a few hours is a free exploration of ourselves and of otherness, both at the same time. It is freeing to become someone – or something – else for an evening (but please don’t do that subtly racist thing where you dress as a Native American or someone “Oriental” or we are going to have to have a talk about culture vs costume).
This year, I get three chances to dress up: once for my birthday dinner (pirate captain), once for Halloween to give out candy (bird kigurumi onesie), and once for a Halloween party on 11/3 (Jester). I will happily take that opportunity to be someone else for an evening. Won’t you?