All Hallows' Eve

I love Halloween. Always have. Hell, it’s the celtic New Year, the day when the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest, and the one day when normally functional adults are allowed to go hog wild and dress up as their weirdest, wildest fantasies. Not to mention all the glorious candy.

So today, Pat and I went shopping for Halloween costumes. Pat had seen this gloriously awful old-school chicken outfit in the shop window; we pulled it off the beat-up mannequin, he tried it on and voilà! One down.

There are approximately nine rows of women’s costumes on hooks, and of the maybe 300 costumes, only a fistful were available in my size. After trying on a few, I realized it was for the most part absolutely hopeless. They were almost all variations on the ragged dress – a post-fight little red riding hood (with huge slashes across the chest so my boobs were falling out all over), a little miss muffet covered in spiders (essentially the same costume but in shades of blue with awful arachnids on both boobs), a pirate wench (same costume, this time in brown), and I turned up my nose at Supergirl and Batgirl in really icky vinyl. Which in retrospect is a good thing, since Jillian was wearing said Batgirl costume in the Diva’s costume contest.

So which ones did I like? Well, there was a groovy queen of spades (largest size medium), a Ms. Freddy Krueger (largest size medium), a Renaissance harlot (largest size medium), and actually a couple of men’s costumes that could be retrofitted to someone with more curves. Where does that leave me? Well, I still have a few days to see whether one of the costumes I liked are available in my size in other stores. Otherwise, I’ll have to fall back on the two ideas I had during that brief moment when people at work suggested we should dress up. (Of course, everyone has long since choked. Wusses all, I say.)

I won’t reveal my ideas, since I may yet put one into effect: let’s just say one is a character from one of the year’s coolest games, and blissfully retro to another period in my life, while the second is the main character of a classic film, and the look mostly depends on judicious application of makeup. Both are a tad on the obscure side, but that’s ok. Although, really, in Quebec, other than in the West Island, who has heard of little miss muffet? Stay tuned.

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