Back When I Wore Halloween Costumes

For one and only one glorious Halloween in 2003, our family decided to dress up in a unified theme. Left to right in that aging 35mm photo are my son as Ron Weasley, myself as Hagrid, and my wife as Professor Sprout. At the time we were all fans of the series in books and movies, though they both fell out of favor with my son as he grew old and too-cool. My wife read all seven books multiple times and spent painstaking hours upon hours compiling her own comprehensive Harry Potter lexicon. My fandom level fell reasonably between the two.

Most of the accessories were thrift-shop finds. My son’s Weasley hair was simulated using an entire can of orange hair spray. We spent the evening accompanying her sister’s family and had a total blast. And then we never did it again.

Costuming was fun while it lasted for us in that moment, but I realized tonight that this Halloween will be the tenth anniversary of the last time I wore a costume. It’s not that I’m against costumes or feeling too dignified and self-important. I just can never think of any viable options to suit my fussy qualifications.

When I was a kid, it was easy — usually a matter of finding the right box at the nearest department store to suit whatever characters I was into at the time. The childhood costumes I remember best include:

* Spider-Man: at age 5, it was my very first costume and trick-or-treating experience. I went to exactly one (1) door, received a couple of Pixy Stix, then became too frightened to continue because strangers. Mom wasn’t happy because we weren’t rich and costumes weren’t that cheap.

* Godzilla: The working uniform for my first winning foray into candy solicitation. Perhaps the persona bolstered my confidence, or the fact that this time I went door-to-door with other kids. Strength in numbers, and all that.

* Great Mazinga from the Shogun Warriors: Like Spider-Man, this was one of those classic Ben Cooper get-ups, which consisted of a flimsy front-only mask with an elastic string, and a plastic smock that ripped at the slightest movement. But it was Shogun Warriors and therefore spectacular by definition.

* A mime: My last childhood costume was both desperate and lazy — black T-shirt and one tube of white face paint. By the following year my friends had moved away and the occasion felt outgrown.

At my first job we were allowed to dress up if we were stuck working Halloween, as long as it didn’t interfere with serving the customers. By then I’d lightened up once more and found myself inspired a few times, for better or worse. Some of my best-remembered costumes:

* Generic slasher guy: On the premise that one could assemble a costume merely by buying random items from a fly-by-night Halloween store, I was decked out in a black hooded robe, plastic hockey mask, ball-’n'-chain on my ankle, and fake butcher knife tucked into my belt. As someone who prided himself on speed of service, I adapted quickly to the ball-’n'-chain but fought all night long with the robe as it interfered with my stride, straining to maneuver normally around the grill area with limited success.

* Disgruntled postal worker: Older readers may faintly recall when these were a recurring headline villain. They can’t all be tasteful winners. Blue dress shirt with fake blood splatters; baseball cap with a hand-drawn USPS logo taped to the front; and a toy gun. As a young adult male, I considered it my holiday duty to ensure a disturbing, tacky Halloween for one and all. Kind of regretting typing this one just now.

* Two-Face: Face painted half-purple; hair and dress shirt half-dyed; one shoe markered up to match. It was the most elaborate costume I ever created myself.

* Fred Durst from Limp Bizkit: Speaking of tasteful winners. I drew “tattoos” on both forearms with markers that took days to fade; wore a backwards cap; bought a shirt from Hobby Lobby and wrote across it, “LIMP BIZKIT IS BETTER THAN EVERYONE”, as seen on actual shirts. Because I wanted the kind of costume that would make people scream, “Nooooooooo!”

Those were, as they say, the days. My current job’s dress code remains in effect even on Halloween, though I’ve sometimes worn themed ties for the occasion. I’ve run out of offspring to take trick-or-treating, and adult Halloween parties tend to be soaked in liquor and therefore not my thing. I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to light convention cosplay if I could muster up an identity that didn’t require a massive budget, full headgear that kills my peripheral vision, or shaving off my mandatory beard. Offhand the only suitable characters that come anywhere near to mind are Aaron from Revolution, maybe George Lucas once the aging process renders my hair fully grey, or I could join the thousands-strong legion of Silent Bob impersonators.

Until and unless some future purveyor of otherworldly fiction tailors a new character specifically for me and the millions of other geeks that rolled off the same assembly line as me…well, at least I’ll always have Hagrid.

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