Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Slut-o-ween? No, Kat-o-ween.
Much like last Halloween, I had splendid delusions of grandeur when deciding on a costume this year. As the story goes, I get an idea that's cool and seemingly easy to execute, then I pat myself on the back for being so efficient, and then I sit back and do absolutely nothing until it's almost time for trick-or-treating.
This Halloween, I thought I'd work my braces into my costume instead of fighting them and hating them like I do the rest of the year. I considered donning the typical schoolgirl outfit, which would be my backup if I couldn't find all the items necessary to make a good Ugly Betty. Of course, the only things all my "planning" yielded were a lot of wondering why it's so hard to find a red poncho (and wouldn't it be a bonus if it had "Guadalajara" written on it?) and wishing I had been tanning and, upon giving up on Ugly Betty, pondering how odd it feels to be 25 and trying to look half your age but also appear to have the sexual prowess of someone twice your age.
I was thinking this was definitely going to be the year I participated in Slut-o-ween, the holiday that runs concurrently with Halloween in which young women show the world their inner whore. Although I've never celebrated Slut-o-ween, I can appreciate why it's popular among certain segments of the population. Some girls are shy. Some boys can't afford porn and strip clubs. Some people need a little extra something to get their motors running. Whatever your reason, Slut-o-ween can be a great day if you're open-minded and comfortable in your own skin.
That said, I had to exhaust every other option before I broke down and dug out the short, pleated skirt from the back of my closet. I woke up in the morning and began rummaging through my clothes, trying to find a costume to celebrate one of my favorite times of year. I could be a hippie... I have enough clothes that actually are from that era. I could buy some white makeup and be a goth. I could wear one of my mom's old mumus and be a Hawaiian. I could just put on something weird and let everyone else figure it out.
No no no no no! These are all normal clothes that I would actually wear when it's not Halloween (before I got lazy and started wearing the same thing every day). They'd probably be acceptable, but not the eye-grabbing Halloween getups that nature intended.
Damn! Why do I always wait till the last minute? Damn again! I can't wear a skirt this short in public before dark.
I had to meet Gus to pick up our CMJ badges in less than an hour and I still had nothing. I was hoping the weather would freeze me out of doing Slut-o-ween, but it was surprisingly pleasant outside. Still, something just felt wrong. Luckily, in one of my big tubs o' goodies, I found a cat "costume" that I bought for 50 cents at Claire's several years ago. It wasn't anything amazing, but it was acceptable for daytime.
It's a really good thing I thought about this because NO ONE KNEW IT WAS HALLOWEEN!
I left the apartment a little before noon to enjoy a 30-block walk (not so bad) to Gus's work. I was the only person with even a hint of a costume. I got a few stares, but most people went on minding their own business. After a little while, some people behind me exclaimed, "Ohhh! It's Halloween!" I guess they'd been back there for awhile wondering what possessed a girl in her mid-twenties to leave the house wearing cat ears and a tail.
As the day progressed, I got more and more attention. This is great because I'm kind of an attention whore and I had been off duty for awhile. Your average catcalls just annoy me, but these were actual CATcalls in reference to my costume, so it was fun getting them. Besides, you shouldn't wear something that will call attention to yourself if you're not ready to receive it.
Highlights:
"Aw shit! She's got a tail too!" (guy on bike)
"Hey Catwoman! I've been looking for you!" (guy in mysterious unmarked truck)
"Where did you get your costume?" (random girls throughout the day)
"Heeeere kitty kitty!" (some dude)
"That's some good pussy! You need a ride, pussy?" (Irish dude with horses)
"That's so cute." (lady in the shoestore)
"Meow!" (fucking everybody)
And some guy jumped out and "pounced" in front of me, which was really funny only because he was shorter than me and not scary-looking.
When I hurriedly got dressed this morning, I thought I would change into my Slut-o-ween costume at night and wear it to some CMJ shows. But I was having so much fun walking around the city as a cat, I didn't want to change.
Before coming to that conclusion, I fought a bit of an internal battle about it anyway. I'm 25 now, so I'm running out of years to celebrate Slut-o-ween without looking like some nasty old woman who actually is a whore. This was the one day of the year where I can dress like I belong in a brothel and still be respected in intelligent conversations about music, finance, and the global theater. And yet, I don't think I have the body for a Slut-o-ween costume, even if I did already own all of the items that the one I had in mind comprised. I just couldn't bring myself to walk down the street in something I'd reserve for the bedroom. I just didn't feel like I could pull it off. Everyone has body issues (I'm not exactly petite), but I think this went further than that. Something about compromising my comfort just to cause a few boners seemed silly. I don't know these people... why should they get to look at me?
So my laziness paid off. People around here don't really celebrate Halloween with the gusto that Austinites do. That's okay, but I still wanted to and I'm glad I did. And I think I struck a good balance when doing so.
A kat is loose in Central Park...
