Witch or Sexy Penguin?

I love Halloween. Not the ghosts and ghouls and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night part of it, but all the dressing up. As a former drama major, I welcome any reason to put on a costume.

My husband and I, along with another couple, recently bought tickets for a masquerade ball in an antique mansion in our New England town. The party was sponsored by the local Arts Association, and we heard through the grapevine that they were going all out with decorations, refreshments and entertainment. It was scheduled for the Saturday night before Halloween. This meant that the Saturday morning before Halloween I started pulling out costumes.

Story of my life, sadly. Everything I do these days could be described as "just in time manufacturing."

Anyway, we have a trunk of dress-up bits in our cellar. Fancy gloves and costume jewelry, fairy wings, wigs, and elaborate feathered masks from New Orleans' French Market. Our plan was to take an elegant, minimalist approach. My husband would wear his wedding tuxedo. (Yes, he still fits in it, 21 years later. Suffice it to say, zipping myself into my wedding gown would be frightening.) I would wear a long embroidered Chinese coat. We would both wear the aforementioned feather masks.

Er, or not. When we pulled them out, they looked a little sad and bedraggled. On to Plan B.

The masks were a crucial piece of our costumes (let's face it, they were our costumes), so after an hour at the local Y, I drove to a Halloween "pop-up shop" in a neighboring town.

(Quick aside: Saturday was also the annual costume Zumba class. We were all supposed to dress as popular musicians. I was the only Bob Marley in a sea of Gagas. But, I digress.)

I quickly found an entire aisle of Venetian Carnvial masks. They were gorgeous and quite reasonably priced. I chose a long-beaked "Naso Scaramouche" in black with gold patina for my husband and a silver brocade, trimmed with lace and rhinestones for myself. Mission accomplished.

Almost.

Trying to get in and out of a Halloween store on the Saturday before said holiday was easier said than done. It took me less than five minutes to choose the masks. It took me another 35 to get through the long line that snaked along the perimeter of the shop. I went by an aisle of adorable baby costumes (bees, lady bugs, pumpkins), by another filled with creepy decorations and animated lawn ornaments. Then, I hit trick or treat pay dirt. 

The aisle of Halloween hoochies and hos.

WTF? I had arrived in the land where less is truly more. As in: less fabric, more skin. The typical costume included a bare-midriff or corset top; a short, short (short, short) skirt; and some combination of fishnet stockings, long gloves, garters, a headpiece and/or wings. It was like Halloween with The Girls Next Door at the Playboy Mansion. (Every package, btw, featured a pretty, pouting model who looked 16, exactly my daughter's age.)

There were sexy nurses, sexy vampires, sexy fairies, sexy superheroes, sexy gypsies, sexy pirate wenches. Then there were the sexy animals. Some that made sense (in a warped way), like sexy kittens, foxes and bunnies. Some that didn't, like sexy penguins. Sexy penguins???


Last, but not least, there were the sexy inanimate objects. Sexy crayons, sexy beer bottles, sexy pizza slices, and my all-time favorite: sexy candy corn.

Because nothing says “Happy Halloween” like a sexy piece of candy corn.

I understand that the whole thrill behind wearing a costume is that it gives you a chance to put on another piece of your personality. But why do so many of the options for teen girls feel more like taking off than putting on?

In one of my favorite scenes from the Sex and the City movie, Carrie joins Miranda to shop for costumes and trick or treat candy. Miranda looks at her options with disdain; the only choices for a grown woman: “Witch or sexy kitty?”

Sexy kitty, sexy penguin, they’re all pretty much the same. I’d rather be a witch. 

And — thank goodness — my daughter would too. 

If you enjoyed this post, order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.

Back by Popular Demand: Halloween Hookers, Hoochies and Ho's

For your Halloween reading pleasure, here is one of my all-time most popular Alien posts. Enjoy!

"Trick or treat?"

Halloween is trickier than it used to be. Like everything else, the upcoming holiday becomes a bit more complicated when your little girl becomes a little woman. A catsuit on a 4-year old is adorable. A catsuit on a 14-year old is suddenly a little too tight, a little too curvy, a little too much.

We live in the town next door to Salem, Massachusetts. As you probably learned in school, Salem Village (which is technically Danvers now) was the site of a horrible witch hunt, trials and public hangings some three hundred twenty years ago. If you study the period (or just rent the movie The Crucible), you recognize that what happened was a shameful result of ignorance, greed, religious intolerance and mass hysteria. Not really history that a town should be particularly proud of.

However, today, Salem has proclaimed itself Halloweentown. All through October, there are street fairs, carnival rides and "haunted happenings." I kind of understand the witch attractions (although I think they're disrespectful to the memories of those falsely accused and put to death in 1692). I don't understand the vampire attractions, except — I guess — vampires are trendy right now thanks to Twilight and True Blood. Regardless, the town makes a lot of merry (and a lot of money) throughout the month. And, those of us who live in the area avoid it at all costs.

A couple of years ago, my brother and his family came to visit us. They wanted to experience a Salem Halloween, so I drove them to the border and dropped them off, hightailing it home. When they had had enough ghosts and ghouls and things that go bump in the night, I had to go back into the fray to collect them. One wrong turn and I was stuck in a hellish traffic jam. I tried to be zen about it, breathing, meditating, and taking the opportunity to do some unparalleled people-watching. The costumes on the happy Halloweeners were tremendous. There were countless witches, zombies, psychotic clowns, pirates, headless horsemen. And then I saw her ...

The Candy Corn Ho.

I had never seen anything quite like it. Sort of a bodacious St. Pauly Girl look, a buxom blonde in an Alpine-inspired (perky bust extending above the shelf of her bodice) short short dress. Garters, stockings, high heels. But, the strange thing was that the entire sleazy outfit was made to look like a piece of candy corn.

Halloween costumes for young women veer toward the slutty, no doubt. There are naughty nurses, precocious schoolgirls, lingerie-clad witches, Playboy bunnies. I'm probably not the target audience, but I would assume that these outfits (or lack thereof) correspond to (a) the woman's inner vision of her own secret centerfold nature and (b) a man's fantasy of what makes a hot chick hot. I don't like it, but I get it.

But, when did candy corn become sexy?

I did a little research. Here is the evolution of the Candy Corn Ho, from sweet baby to tempting teen to all out hoochie mama:

Happily, my tween daughter is still more interested in collecting Kit Kat bars and hanging out with her friends than in letting it all hang out. This year, she's either going to be a pirate or a hippie. (And, with a little oversight from her mother, she will not be a slutty pirate wench or a hippie who is tripping on acid at Woodstock and forgot which VW van she left her top in.)

Hoochie ho's aside, Halloween will be fun. But, I do wish we could go back to the more innocent days of Teletubbies and Disney princesses. I'll just have to settle for the little ones who come to the door.

Here's a holiday treat from one of my favorite urban folk singers, Jill Sobule. Happy Halloween.

Halloween Hookers, Hoochies and Ho's

"Trick or treat?"

Halloween is trickier than it used to be. Like everything else, the upcoming holiday becomes a bit more complicated when your little girl becomes a little woman. A catsuit on a 4-year old is adorable. A catsuit on a 14-year old is suddenly a little too tight, a little too curvy, a little too much.

We live in the town next door to Salem, Massachusetts. As you probably learned in school, Salem Village (which is technically Danvers now) was the site of a horrible witch hunt, trials and public hangings some three hundred twenty years ago. If you study the period (or just rent the movie The Crucible), you recognize that what happened was a shameful result of ignorance, greed, religious intolerance and mass hysteria. Not really history that a town should be particularly proud of.

However, today, Salem has proclaimed itself Halloweentown. All through October, there are street fairs, carnival rides and "haunted happenings." I kind of understand the witch attractions (although I think they're disrespectful to the memories of those falsely accused and put to death in 1692). I don't understand the vampire attractions, except — I guess — vampires are trendy right now thanks to Twilight and True Blood. Regardless, the town makes a lot of merry (and a lot of money) throughout the month. And, those of us who live in the area avoid it at all costs.

A couple of years ago, my brother and his family came to visit us. They wanted to experience a Salem Halloween, so I drove them to the border and dropped them off, hightailing it home. When they had had enough ghosts and ghouls and things that go bump in the night, I had to go back into the fray to collect them. One wrong turn and I was stuck in a hellish traffic jam. I tried to be zen about it, breathing, meditating, and taking the opportunity to do some unparalleled people-watching. The costumes on the happy Halloweeners were tremendous. There were countless witches, zombies, psychotic clowns, pirates, headless horsemen. And then I saw her ...

The Candy Corn Ho.

I had never seen anything quite like it. Sort of a bodacious St. Pauly Girl look, a buxom blonde in an Alpine-inspired (perky bust extending above the shelf of her bodice) short short dress. Garters, stockings, high heels. But, the strange thing was that the entire sleazy outfit was made to look like a piece of candy corn.

Halloween costumes for young women veer toward the slutty, no doubt. There are naughty nurses, precocious schoolgirls, lingerie-clad witches, Playboy bunnies. I'm probably not the target audience, but I would assume that these outfits (or lack thereof) correspond to (a) the woman's inner vision of her own secret centerfold nature and (b) a man's fantasy of what makes a hot chick hot. I don't like it, but I get it.

But, when did candy corn become sexy?

I did a little research. Here is the evolution of the Candy Corn Ho, from sweet baby to tempting teen to all out hoochie mama:

Happily, my tween daughter is still more interested in collecting Kit Kat bars and hanging out with her friends than in letting it all hang out. This year, she's either going to be a pirate or a hippie. (And, with a little oversight from her mother, she will not be a slutty pirate wench or a hippie who is tripping on acid at Woodstock and forgot which VW van she left her top in.)

Hoochie ho's aside, Halloween will be fun. But, I do wish we could go back to the more innocent days of Teletubbies and Disney princesses. I'll just have to settle for the little ones who come to the door.

Here's a holiday treat from one of my favorite urban folk singers, Jill Sobule. Happy Halloween.