JuniperJune asked a great question in a comment on Friday’s post. She wanted to know why — since I appeared to be in favor of fashion in earlier posts — I’m uncomfortable dressing up for Halloween.
The answer’s personal. It’s not a grand statement about the immorality of wearing costumes. I had a lot of fun writing about fashion disasters awhile back, but at the time, they weren’t fun at all. Fashion is something other people do to you: you wear clothes that, for the most part, you can’t see, and they react. It is a performance, and one that I’ve come to experience as a risk, a potential source of embarrassment.
I don’t mind the dressing up as much as I mind the complementary hypothesis of an easy normalcy. The proferred opposition is Halloween costume vs. regular clothing, whereas I am chased by the feeling that I’m constantly in costume.
This is also why I can’t role play. I don’t even know if I own a twenty-sided die anymore.
I’ll end there. Goodnight — you pirates, you burlesque dancers, you abominable snowmen, you royal tanenbaums. You air guitar sales representatives.
Joe, I’m totally in favor of dressing in “normal” clothes…and going with the beloved “I’m a psycho-killer, they look like everybody else” line. Of course, “normal” clothing can get you in trouble – everyday I manage to supress an urge to yell “Is it Halloween *already*?!” at that one girl I see walking into the library wearing a skirt that approximates the length of her butt with boots that I thought were only worn in strip-clubs and a top that would suffice as bikini attire on a Spanish beach.