I’m usually too lazy to wholeheartedly participate in Halloween. Either that, or I’m broke. In college I recycled my Monica Lewinsky costume, which was conceived in 9th grade to wear in marching band for the Halloween parade. In retrospect, it was entirely inappropriate. I was 14 with a cigar in my pocket and a “stain” on my skirt. I also like dressing in drag, which is easy and has worked with my occasional short haircuts throughout the years (this year included).
Clark and I celebrated Halloween together in 2007. His costume idea came to him after I made him watch “Pretty in Pink” one night. He was obsessed with James Spader’s character Stef, and couldn’t believe that I would actually choose Andrew McCarthy over him.
We were late putting it all together — and this is when we were subletting Nikhil’s place above the Galaxy Hut. Halloween night we scrambled to the nearest thrift store and CVS to get our supplies. We blew $20 on some ridiculous sunglasses and picked up hairspray and a ton of polyester. He flipped his head over as I brushed the AquaNet through it to make his grey hair stiff, but fluffy. The shirt was silk, the pants were ivory.
We focused so much on his costume that in the end, I just wrote “All that …” on a T-shirt and carried around a bag of chips. At least people thought I was cute.
We went to the Red Derby and the Black Cat and Clark didn’t leave character once. He’d push people aside and say things like, “I could buy you,” or “My dad owns a dealership.” He tried to go behind the bar. I laughed consistently throughout the entire night, and I don’t think our friends or our bartenders knew quite how to take it.
At the end of the night, we burned Clark’s shirt in a bonfire at Jason Hutto’s house, and it created a toxic waste pit. Synthetic materials plus fire does not a good smell make.