Dora Guo
For my first Halloween, I dressed up as a ladybug. Or, rather, my parents dressed me up as a ladybug. I suppose I had no real say in the matter.
I wonder what my parents would think of my Halloween costume this year. I’d like to believe they’d compliment the color scheme.
White, bright blue and hot pink.
This year, for Halloween, I’m dressing up as cotton candy. My friend and I bought our costumes from Urban Planet (a very normal, very non-Halloween store that we happened to come across in the Milford shopping mall). Two tight white skirts — one with hot pink streaks, the other with bright blue streaks. Matching tops. We’ll be twinning. Cute. Right, mom?
For a moment, we almost considered buying the skirts for everyday wear. But that would be too risky. Too short. Too tight. Too bright. Some would call them slutty. Others would call them trashy. Perhaps even cringey. Certainly not fit for everyday wear. But, on Halloween, something changes. Everything changes.
On every other day, they say pigtails are for little girls. Sparkles are for weirdos. Gold is too showy. Orange is too flashy. Cover up. Don’t show so much skin. Those shorts have far too many rips. But not on Halloween.
On Halloween, we can wear tight white skirts with blue and pink streaks, silver and gold fairy wings, black dresses and fuzzy bunny ears and red devil horns. On Halloween, the rules no longer exist.
In truth, I think Halloween isn’t even remotely about any of the costumes. In fact, I’d say it’s about just the opposite. Halloween is about the skin beneath the costumes — about doing all the things we’ve always wanted to do, all the things we thought we couldn’t do, the things we felt we shouldn’t do, the things we weren’t supposed to do. This Halloween, I’m dressing up as cotton candy. Matching tight white skirts with bright blue and hot pink streaks. My brown hair, her blonde hair. Perhaps we’ll throw in some pigtails, and smile for the camera. Maybe we’ll even wink, depending on the photographer. Mom, dad, I hope you approve.