The Most Creative Halloween Costume I've Worn

Well, that's an easy question from Long And Short Reviews, this week. What is the most creative Halloween costume I've worn? I've...not. 

My parents agreed on most religious matters. They were whole-Bible Christians. They disagreed on one point: Mother had been taught that "any church is better than none," Dad thought there shouldn't be different denominations but, since there are, he didn't want to be affiliated with one. That sort of thing was why he got so little use out of a degree in theology. Anyway I was christened Episcopalian, received my first spiritual instruction (very confusing) from the Worldwide Church of God, became a Christian in the Lord's Covenant Church (if you've heard about them you've heard that they were racists; they weren't, in the sense my generation meant, but they did believe we should study the whole Bible because Western Europeans were descendants of Abraham), was baptized in the Seventh-Day Adventist church, later hung out with Quakers in Washington, went to Berea College which is Unitarian, and have mostly behaved like a good oldfashioned Southern Baptist in my home town. But one thing those different groups have in common--apart from the Unitarians and some of the Episcopalians, they don't do Halloween. 

There are other ways and occasions for children to "dress up." 

One summer when both of us were very bored, I found some sort of yellow string or yarn and handed it to my brother. "Now you have a yellow shoelace. Now put a smile on your face and you can be Ronald McDonald." We never ate at McDonald's but we'd learned the jingle. My brother looked in the mirror, and a yellow shoelace did not make him look like Ronald McDonald. He borrowed the shoes Dad wasn't wearing and a wig Mother had given me in case I ever wanted to practice hairdressing. He still didn't look much like Ronald McDonald but now he definitely looked like a clown. He clomped happily outside, leaving me to enjoy, as I recall, Spanish for Beginners. No such luck. "You started it!" Mother said. "Go out and snap a picture." Everyone in my family understood the urge to curl up with a book.

For serious dress-up occasions Mother could always do better than the other kids' mothers. The Girl Scout council always had an International Festival where each troop was assigned a Member Country and told to study some country where they had some organization like the Scouts, dress up in some approximation of its traditional costume, bring in something based on a recipe from the target country, and, if possible, learn a song. The troop leader knew nothing about India but handed out stick-on beads and said "Everybody wear a forehead jewel and wrap up in a bed sheet." 

"Hah!" said Mother. "You don't remember the Indians who lived at my parents' house, but you remember the ones who bought the big house from us, don't you?  Well, they gave you a sari for your wedding day, but since you'll probably marry an American you might as well wear it now. And with that sari you'll not be wearing any plastic beads from the drugstore. Most of the time they just put a dot of paint on their foreheads, but with this sari you will wear a real forehead ornament made of gold and pearls." The sari was white silk brocaded with gold thread. All the older people were duly impressed, and all the little girls naturally teased me about being Indian, or maybe a Gypsy, for years. /byt ut was hyst as wekk tgat tge saru git ibe wearubgm becaysem bt tge tune I married a man of Indian descent, the sari was long lost. It was in a whole shipment of things that were stolen by a sleazy shipping company. 

I didn't like the clothes in the stores when I was a kid. Of course good little whole-Bible Christians didn't wear miniskirts. The maxiskits of the 1970s looke dbetter, but were skimpy and hard to walk in. What we wore was, mostly, jeans. When something "dressier" than jeans was required, well, it was possible to do things in those dowdy pants suits of the 1970s, but I didn't think even the good-looking teacher at my school could posibly feel pretty in a pants suit. 

So, as a child, I had exactly one dress that I liked. One year Mother dressed and groomed a runner-up Miss California who came back and thrust her red paisley gown at Mother. "I never want to see it again! Cut it down for your kid!" So Mother did and, for once, I had a dress with enough skirtage to suit me. I have always loved a swishy skirt. That dress was the base for a few dress-up costumes, like the school Bicentennial Fetival for which I got into the spirit of things by making my own sunbonnet and apron, but there was nothing especially creative about it. 

Hgh school homecoming week was an excuse for some people to get very creative with their costumery. One yer the Principal felt called to give us a lcture: "If you want to hae a 1950s Day, do it right. We did not wear things skin-tigt int he 1950s..." I wore my usual jeans with one of Dad's shirts. I remember wearing jeans and taking some home-grown produce to peddle in the cafeteria for Farmers Day, erstinh the tackiest pants suit in the closet for Teachers Day, but I certainly didn't go in for anything as extreme as the Boys' Beauty contest where the boys dressed up as girls. 

The costumes I've worn since high school have been, if anything, even lamer. For a few occasions I used to wear a dashiki-type shirt, green jeans, whatever sort of beads or pendant I'd managed not to lose at the time, and a Jimmy Carter campaign pin, and calling it a hippie costume. It was about as hip as anything I saw people actually wearing in the 1970s  After some housemates, mindful of the image of the house, charitably caused that costume to disappear, I found a cheap nylon prom dress with a hoop skirt at a charity store, one year.

As a child I was interested in clothes, but couldn't get the ones I wanted. As an adult I've been more interested in other things. I've not even sewn since high school. I knit. 

I had of course read Marabel Morgan's remarks on the topic of putting on little private costume parties at home. I saw absolutely nothing wrong with that, especially when we were in a city with so many good charities to support. My husband saw nothing wrong with it, either, but he was a tactile thinker more than a visual thinker. He did like being greeted at the door with a cool foot bath or a warm pair of slippers, but he honestly didn't care what I was wearing. Oh well. I'm glad the costume parties worked for the Morgans anyway. `

As a child I could always spend an hour dressing up my model horses. Maybe that's why I've never felt any urge to dress up a living animal. Most animals hate that. They already have all the clothing nature intended them to wear. `