Embedded Files
A memoir and life-writing blog
The Ghosts of Halloween Past
I love Halloween. Second to Christmas, it’s my favorite holiday.
Every October, when the leaves reveal their true selves in hues of burgundy and orange, and the scent of fireplace embers perfume the air, I decorate my home with a spooky graveyard scene.
Outside, a giant black widow spider dangles from the center of her web that puts her nightly catch of insects and other creatures on display as if it were a museum suspended in mid-air. The spiderweb, awash in a maze of purple and orange lights, overlooks a cemetery where the bones of the long departed rise from the earth and scatter at the bases of tombstones. A haunted forest in the distance displays the dismembered bodies of gruesome characters who hang from fenceposts, while ghosts perform a seance, hand in hand, around a barren tree.
The eerie scene continues inside, where the fireplace mantel is home to a possessed Halloween village, replete with dilapidated and haunted buildings, gargoyle-throned tombstones, and a skeleton crew. Eyeballs, skulls, spiders, bats, rats, and creepy jack-o-lanterns disguise as ornaments on the black Christmas tree, whose orange lights that look like candy corn add a bit of whimsy. Blood-stained gauzy fabric hangs from the edges of furniture and the ironwork of chandeliers. A fuzzy leopard-print spider hangs from the cathedral ceiling of the living room because, well, I am me, and no decor is complete without a hint of leopard print.
The Master
My fascination with Halloween can be drawn back to the legendary Halloween-themed episodes from the television show, Roseanne. Anyone else watch those episodes as often as I did? (Confession: I still watch them every year.) I dreamed that one day I’d turn my own house in to the “Tunnel of Terror” and scare the daylights out of my husband by faking an electrocution by way of a faulty toaster, or prank my friends at an over-the-top Halloween party. Roseanne was “The Master,” and I aspired to claim that title.
Growing up, we didn’t have money to squander on Halloween costumes. There were a few years where we were able to splurge a little, and I’ll share more on that later. Overall, we were the kids with eyeliner-drawn, upside-down equilateral triangles on our noses and whisker lines extending from each side that suggested we were cats, despite the conspicuous lack of ears and a tail.
On Halloween night, we would trick-or-treat, using pillowcases to hold the candy that our mother would later inspect for razorblades and arsenic, and suffer the humiliation of having to convince skeptical homeowners that yes, we were in costume and were, too, deserving of a treat.
Fast forward more years than I’m willing to admit, and I’ve become somewhat of a homegrown Halloween legend in my own right (she says with complete humility). People drive from neighboring towns to see my outdoor display, and many capture it on video to share with family and friends. Locals comment that my house is among their favorite to visit during the season.
Who’s “The Master” now, Roseanne?
Playing Dress Up
Dressing up was one of my favorite past-times as a little girl. Imagining I was an actress getting ready to go onstage, I dove headfirst into my mother’s closet, where flowing floral dresses hung from plastic hangers that were the color of Easter eggs: cotton-candy pink, mint green, robin’s egg blue. High-heeled pumps and sandals were situated along the back wall like a line of chorus girls.
After selecting my outfit, I rifled through my mother’s makeup bag, whose interior was stained black. I’d brush a light, shimmery beige eyeshadow onto my lids that transitioned to a darker bronze to form a dramatic outer V, just like I’d watched my mother do hundreds of times. Mimicking the face she’d make while applying mascara, I opened my eyes and mouth wide, and glided the wand that looked like it was covered in black tar through my upper lashes. Made a fish face like she did when applying blush to the apples of my cheeks. I wanted to be just like her.
No doubt, I looked like a clown. But that didn’t deter me from parading around our apartment in four-inch heels and a dress that trailed yards behind me thinking I was the most beautiful woman in the world. It’s a miracle I never twisted an ankle. (Side note: perhaps this set into motion my teenage dream to become a model.)
Who's That Girl?
Playing dress up as a kid was a way to express my creativity. As an adult, it’s about pushing the outer bounds of said creativity. Halloween offers an outlet to do just that.
Decorating chops established, creating Halloween costumes is where I shine. I’ve won contests for my handiwork and rendered friends speechless when they realized it was me behind the garb and makeup. Every year, the pressure to top myself increases.
In the spirit of the season, I thought I’d share a retrospective of my Halloween looks, including my favorite costume from childhood.
Hula Girl
Tall, and all hair and eyes, I was about six-years-old in this picture. Upset because my mother wouldn’t let me wear my coconut bra top to school or trick-or-treating, I refused to smile for this picture. My love for all things hibiscus and coconut persist till this day.
Bengal Cat
An homage to my late cat, Sapphire. You can read more about her here. The ears are cardboard. The love of leopard print, eternal.
America’s Favorite Redhead
Lucille Ball is my hero, and I Love Lucy, my favorite show. My grandmother made this dress for me, including the crinoline that gives it its signature 1950s poof. She taught me to sew, a skill that I put to good use this time of year.
(Wo)Man in the Mirror
Michael Jackson arriving late to court in his pajamas, bodyguard in tow. This was a fun one to pull off. No one knew was me.
It’s A Major Award!
A Christmas Story is one of my favorite movies, and I wanted to try my hand at this costume for many years. It was an inspired idea but a challenge to execute. Creating the bell shape of the lamp shade was difficult, but well worth it in the end.
This was one of the coldest Halloweens in recent years, and I froze my t*ts off.
Edward Scissorhands
The paper doll garland was the most difficult piece to master.
Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
The stripes are medical tape, and my thighs kept getting stuck together. Another Halloween when no one knew it was me.
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