The Joy of Being Weird
I’m Over 60 and I Still Dress Up for Halloween
I read an article a while back which stated with great authority that adults who wear Halloween costumes are totally weird — well, if that’s the case then I stand weird and proud. Weird is audacious. Weird is transcendent. Weird is Halloween-loving, Jennifer Coolidge, and look what happened to her! I’m over 60 and I’ve worn a Halloween costume every year for as long as I can remember, sometimes two or three in one season.
When I was a child, Halloween was always a big deal. My mother made all our costumes (four kids!) Wonder Woman, Superman, Casper the Friendly Ghost — and we would terrorize the neighborhood, lugging pillowcases heavy with SweeTarts, Abba-Zaba’s and Big Hunks, with no fear of razor blades in apples because (eww) we always tossed them out. After trick-or-treating, my mom invited all the neighborhood kids to our San Francisco Victorian for hot cider, musical-pumpkins and ghost stories.
Maybe it’s my dramatic nature or my Irish/Catholic heritage (we invented Halloween after all) but I’ve worn Halloween costumes in parades, on streetcars during the morning commute, and even on a 747 bound for New York (wrestling out of a spandex catsuit in a two-foot by four-foot airplane lavatory is definitely not for the faint of heart).
Despite studies that show wearing a costume to work may make you a happier employee, it can spark a bit of controversy and even resentment. Before I left my job this year (I never say retired), I would hear certain colleagues whispering and snickering behind my back as I lumbered past in a King Kong costume. And, they were right, I am an old fool. But guess what? This old fool always laughs the hardest.
As I got older, I got even bolder: co-workers, clients and even bosses, have been rendered speechless by my nearly six-foot Elvira with black beehive and not so momentous cleavage or my rainbow-bright Carmen Miranda replete with maracas and fruit salad headdress. I’d prance about the office as if I were wearing a plaid blazer and pumps, feeling sorry for the “grownups” who are beyond the foolishness of Halloween, nurturing my Vincent-Price-loving inner child, while ensuring she never grows up.
Halloween has continuously promised the chance to be creative and become something else. I love the planning, the anticipation, the obsession, the sewing and the hot glue (ouch!). I patrol the aisles of Party City and Spirit Halloween on a weekly basis, not only for the right accessory for this year’s creation but also to immerse myself in the tack-fest of eyeball-popping alien mummies, Uncle Fester inflatables brandishing chainsaws and zombies sporting sequin corsets.
For me, not wearing a Halloween costume would be like not dancing when the band plays my favorite song. So, this Halloween, instead of worrying what your sister’s ex-roommate might think, grab a neon clown wig, leather chaps, or a feather boa and garters and join me on the dance floor. Let’s celebrate being totally weird to a ghoulish rendition of “Monster Mash.”
Then hopefully you’ll give yourself permission to tap into the feeling you had when you were ten years old, accoutered in a Davy Crockett or Jane Jetson costume, screaming like a banshee in the crisp October night.
Dalia Bazilwich is an actress, author, poet, and designer. Her third novel You Won’t Regret It is currently out on submission.
