Halloween 2009, Part 1

Advance warning: True to form, this turned into a lengthy post with lots of blah-blah-blah, yet I can't bring myself to make any more cuts. So if you want to hear the whole nerd-tastic spiel, then read on, but if you just want to get to the photos, you should scroll down.

Upon learning that I design and build costumes for theatre and dance for a living, strangers often remark that I must always have amazing Halloween costumes. This can drive me nuts. For one thing, it can feel like a lot of pressure, when I'm running around like mad working on costumes for actors and dancers, and then someone expects me to also develop a brilliant costume for myself. I could also go off on how offensive such remarks can feel to someone in my profession, because developing a vision for an entire ensemble of performers is a so much more complicated (and, it must be said, usually far more intellectual) pursuit than developing a Halloween costume for myself. But that's all I will say about that.

In truth, I love Halloween and its excuse to wear a costume just as much as the next gal, and I did have some pretty cool costumes in high school and undergrad. But since then, through grad school and my career path to date, I've been so perpetually busy and/or exhausted that I have only bothered with a costume in two of the last eight years. But the stars have all aligned perfectly this year, and I'm about to lend some credence to the remarks of said strangers. Seriously, the timing couldn't be better: 1) Halloween is on a Saturday this year, and there is a party I can go to, and I had a one-week-early Halloween-themed ballroom dance social to attend this past Saturday; 2) the production schedule for the shows I'm working on is such that, for once, Halloween does not land just before or just after a show opening, so I can afford the time to do something for myself and even go out on the weekend; 3) I happened last week upon a completely insensible, not-appropriate-for-work-or-errands-or-even-going-out-clubbing (the latter of which I don't do anyhow), silvery, scrunchy, delicious skirt in the window of one of the tacky cheapie shops where the high school girls (and, um, I?) shop in Philly, and I HAD TO have it.

Which meant that it had to become part of a Halloween costume, because when the heck else am I going to be able to use it? Which meant that I actually had to do a Halloween costume this year.

So I bought it, took it home, modeled it with my nearly-just-as-insensible-and-also-somewhat-tacky silver boots, and tried to figure out what I could possibly do with it: "What's silvery and metallic? A robot! The Tin Man! Aluminum foil! Garbage cans! Those windowshades my mom once used to protect the dashboard in her car!" And then I thought of something so silly, so nutty, so corny, that I HAVE to do it. And I've been working on it a bit each day. But I knew I wouldn't be able to finish it in time to wear for the ballroom social this past Saturday, so I went with the Tin (Wo)man idea, which is totally cheating because I already was Tin Woman for one Halloween in undergrad. I should share pictures of that some day. That year, I made my not only my costume, but also the costumes of friends who were Dorothy, the Cowardly Lioness, and a very sexy Scarecrow.

But I digress. I present Tin Woman v2.0:


Throwing this together was actually ridiculously simple. I purchased a pair of those wonderfully tacky silver metallic leggings that are in almost all the teen-focused clothing stores in Philly right now, basted a red felt heart to a sweater from my closet, and rigged our kitchen funnel with elastic. The "oil" shooting out the top in party-favor fashion is simply what happened when I safety-pinned the elastic in place and decided not to bother trimming or hiding it.


I loved wearing this, and I even managed to dance all night in the boots - rumba, bachata, waltz, tango, foxtrot, hustle, swing, cha-cha, viennese waltz, you name it. I had brought along my ballroom dance shoes, thinking I would feel the need to change into them at some point, but nope. It was awesome. I felt like a princess! A princess with tacky thigh-high boots! A costume warrior princess! Woo-hoo!!!!!

But this Tin Woman costume was just a place-holder for what is to come, if my plan succeeds. Before I went to bed that night, the funnel was in the dishwasher, the elastic was back in my stash, the red heart was un-stitched, and the sweater was tossed in the wash. Like my dreamy night of dancing, and like Cindarella's pumpkin coach, it became only a memory.

With luck, a bit of creative rigging, and courage in the face of potential public wacktitude, I hope to have a most amusing "Halloween, Part 2" post to share with you early next week.