Posted on November 1, 2007
Halloween was always as magical as Christmas day at my house. Cobwebs decorated our bushes and ghosts were strung up in our trees. Random crashes of pots and pans could be heard as my younger brother and I came down from our sugar highs, usually breaking something valuable in the process. To us, Halloween was a time for homemade costumes, eating candy until the point of revulsion and staying up past 10 p.m.. When you’re 10 years old and get to dress up like a cat, it’s kind of a big deal.
As we both grew older I noticed a shift in our costumes as my brother’s décor changed from a sweet innocent baby bird to a warrior ninja. My outfits, although never reaching quite the same degree of promiscuity as others, did start to become more form-fitting and hemmed to the point where both my parents raised their eyebrows as I walked out the door.
Since entering college, my sugar-coated Halloween visions have been turned upside down. I’ve seen a scantily clothed Alice from Alice in Wonderland doubled over in the middle of a party to puke her guts out while Britney Spears (circa 2002, pre-meltdown) held back Alice’s blond wig like the good friend that she is. Last year, I witnessed a female cop dressed in black underwear with a pair of hand cuffs offering to arrest anyone who was willing (or not) to be her jailbait. Perhaps the most unfortunate costume I’ve seen was Cupid, the god of love himself, who spent most of his night trying to hold up his poorly designed, homemade diaper so as not to completely expose himself.
Originally, Halloween was a spiritual holiday used as a method to scare the dead out of the land of the living by some ancient tribes. The bloody, frightening traditional outfits have transformed into two-piece, skin-flaunting costumes that accomplish quite the opposite effect that the ancient cultures were trying to.
I understand this holiday that was once fixated on death and preserving the world of the living has now evolved into a contest of who can sport the most cleavage or the most awkward amount of body hair (as was the case with Cupid) and that this day has become the signature date where individuals can be someone else.
Those who choose to go as sexy nurses, sexy cops or basically any profession with the word “sexy” slapped in front it do not necessarily dress like this every day—although some might. Mysteriously, Halloween has morphed into a day on which people can not only try on another person’s skin, but show as much of their own as possible without much judgment.
I’ve asked both males and females why every year on Oct. 31, the concept to have the least amount of clothing possible seems to be the greatest idea since the advent of candy corn. The excuse for this behavior is consistent: “Well…because it’s Halloween.”
My concern is not only do we feel so suppressed during the rest of the 364 days of the year that we have to be practically naked on this one—but that we have to wait for this day all to do so.
Don’t hide behind a holiday that has become so misconstrued from its original meaning it has no correlation to what it once was because you fear judgment. If you wake up one day and feel like a sexy firefighter, go for it—trust me, someone is judging you no matter what day of the year it is.
Sarah Delia is a junior English and art history major.
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