The Defacement that is Halloween


I’ve never been a massive advocate of Halloween and all that it represents. My parents brought me up to think that trick or treating was a no-no (although in recent years mother has got more into the spirit of things; this year she got so upset that no one came to steal her maltesers she made me ring the doorbell and pretend to be a greedy child…). It’s not that they wanted to suck the fun out of the day, they probably just didn’t think young children should be forced to dress up as half-eaten zombies and go to strangers houses to ask them for candy. And to be honest, I can’t say I blame them. I love a holiday as much as the next person, but personally, I just don’t really get Halloween. The celebration of grotesque creatures, murder and dark magic just doesn’t equal “fun” for me.

Give me a fancy dress party any other day of the year, and I will embrace it to my full potential. Be it cops and robbers, cowboys and Indians, pimps and hoes, or the lion king (yes, I did once become Rafiki, and it was beautiful); I will go full out ridiculous costumeness. Yet with Halloween I can’t seem to bring myself to enjoy painting fake wounds all over myself and conjuring up dead versions of characters I might normally choose to dress as. My imagination really doesn’t stretch far on Halloween (partly due to the fact I always leave costume planning to the last minute); meaning that I never actually look scary. For example this year I had no inspiration other than a dream that I was wearing dungarees. Therefore, I wore dungarees. This ended up developing into a texas-chainsaw-massacre type thing with associated bloody face decoration. My attempt at ‘scary’ evidently didn’t work as a lady in the club toilet called me Dorothy (Halloween fail if ever there was one).


The only vaguely Halloween related costume I could bring myself to imagine wearing was a pumpkin, but Tesco and Sainsbury’s had all sold of their child’s costumes so that was the end of that dream. Instead you can enjoy a faceplant photo of what I would have looked like as a baby pumpkin. My friends all enjoyed this so much (or found it hilariously creepy) they came to a group decision to all make it their phone background. Standard.


Having said all that, Halloween doesn’t always have to be about hideous outfits and frightening activities. There are many alternative ways of celebrating, including the well known “dressing as sluts” excuse that our Mean Girls friends employed. I’d like to say that I’d choose to don some bunny ears and a leotard but I don’t quite have the courage for that. Especially as I wasn’t attending an American high school party, but a club in Ealing full of yummy mummies. Slutty animal costumes aside, Halloween is really just an excuse to dress as someone we’re not for the evening and drink multiple measures of rum. I’m pretty sure dead cheerleaders, Mario and Luigi, and texas-chainsaw-massacre farmers weren’t part of the original quota for celebratory costumes when Halloween was invented, but apparently this is what has evolved from witches, ghosts and pumpkins.

Personally I’m glad the awfulness of the Halloween ‘holiday’ is over so we can focus on the only holiday of actual importance, Christmas. The festive season is soon to be upon us and that is really the main excitement of this autumnal/wintery time of year (other than my birthday, obvs). So expect a much more upbeat and positive outlook from me when Christmas comes. That is, unless I’m buried under mounds of mince pies having devoured the entire table of Christmas food and drowned myself in Baileys.


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