Halloween

 

Colin 1983

I've never paid for a Halloween costume. If I couldn't make it, you weren't wearing it. 

This was my mother's influence. One year she used Rit dye on our tired footy pajamas to turn me and my sisters into a litter of black cats complete with black velvet,  stuffed and wired tails and hoods with ears. Eyeliner penciled whiskers!

The last year that I went trick-or-treating (I was twelve or thirteen), I cobbled together a Gypsy Fortune Teller get-up that featured a thrift store embroidered peasant blouse that I was forbidden to wear to school ('cause boobs), a couple of full skirts layered, lots of makeup and half of my mother's costume jewelry. And sandals. I know I snuck out mostly mummified in a cardigan because Mom would have shit a brick over that blouse. She wasn't ready for teenagers.

There was a house party at a neighbor's up the street. You know the unpopular kid whose parents throw parties for him. We all went. 

When his mother was sick of our noise in the basement and it was time to go home, there was about four inches of snow on the ground. That was a long walk.

Jake 1983

The Bride of Frankenstein and The Mummy 1976

This year...

Gambit and Wolverine

And a Halloween hangover.