Well, it’s that time of the year again. The air is crisp, the leaves are turning brilliant crimson and gold, and I can finally wear my Uggs without looking like a total tool. When one thinks about breaking out the fall wardrobe, that means the most important holiday of the year (besides Erin Express) is right around the corner.
Halloween, All Hallows Eve, or “Samhain” originally stemmed from the Gaelic harvesting holiday. It was believed that on October 31 the border between the world of the living and the dead dissolved and the evil spirits had to be placated by burning cow bones and wearing masks. Back in New England, when I still maintained some of my morals and sanity, Halloween meant pumpkin carving and volunteering at the local nature reserve’s fall tour. Now that I am older and unexplainably bitter, I have come to appreciate this great holiday for what it truly is: an excuse to dress like a total whore.
Now some of you naysayers might ask yourself, “why is this night different from any other night?” Well, for one it’s not Passover and the other reason is peer pressure. Girls have been planning weeks in advance, shopping for only the skankiest of costumes and gathering the perfect group of friends next to whom they will be considered the “hot one.” For some of the sororities on campus this is indeed a lost cause, but you have to give them credit for trying to hide the extra twenty pounds of what I like to call “Natural Light Shame.” I can’t say I’m a 00 anymore as well, but at least I’m not masquerading as a pregnant belly dancer. Just a walking train wreck, and there is no point in hiding it anymore. As much as I would love to blow the $60, $80, or even $120 dollars on a pleather Little Red Riding Hood costume, I would much rather spend my hard earned dolla dolla bills on more recreational activities such as heavy drinking and apple picking. (Both of which can be performed at the same time, but only for the most ambitious of multi-taskers.)
Just because I choose to not spend my money on such frivolities, doesn’t mean I haven’t looked online and in various sketchy stores. Maybe because I’m a good person and honestly because the internet is really patchy right now, I have decided to decipher the various female costumes for the 1.25 people that will actually read this.
The Playboy Bunny Costume: The least original of them all.
Mostly reserved for the naïve freshman or the tired upperclassman who stopped caring when they realized slapping on a pair of ears equates to an unlimited supply of jungle juice.
The Little Devil: aka this basement already looks like the third circle of hell
We know you’re up to no good, you don’t need to metaphorically throw it in our faces like the Hans omelette you just left on the brotherhood room couch.
The Schoolgirl: Ah, the quintessential scholar
In my experience the private school girls are the most insane to begin with. This costume is more like an ode to the trials and tribulations they had to face in order to get to the finest of third tier schools, most of which involved funneling.
Any sort of Princess: Are you seriously wearing an old dance costume and Claire’s tiara?
This is the girl with the camera, ready to capture every moment of herself with her nearest and dearest. These pictures will inevitably end up on facebook the next day, with asinine album titles such as “ToTaLly TrAsHeD…HaLlOWeEn OHNINE.” All of which can be used as blackmail for a later date when said girl tries her hand in politics. Dare to dream kids.
The Cowgirl: Yeehaw?
Like your hick brethren you have decided to cheap out and throw on your flannel and jean shorts. Not the most appealing of costumes, but it keeps you warm during the walk of shame tomorrow.
While this might seem a little too judgemental, keep in mind I have unfortunately tried my hand at all these costumes sans the playboy and princess ones. I’m not going to disclose what I’m going to be this year (or any of my four or five costumes I have planned for the two weeks they thinly stretch Halloween upon) But you’ll see soon enough.
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