The Champagne Life on a DIY Budget Since 2007

Dear Douchebag: A Letter to Halloween

pop culture penpal giulia rozzi

Dear Halloween,

I’m excited to hang this week. It’s always fun (and nauseating) to use you as an excuse to binge on candy corn and purchase yet another ridiculous wig. (This year, I’ve got my eye on a style inspired by Kate from John and Kate Plus Eight. What do you think?)

I must admit, though, you’re not nearly the same as you used to be. I miss the old you, the you that was all about dressing up as something other than yourself. Like: a fairy: a cartoon character; or a ghost. Now, it seems people just get dressed up like something they clearly are: a slut. Sure, their costume may be that of a fairy, a cartoon, or a ghost but it’s a slutty fairy, a slutty cartoon, and a slutty ghost. Please, can we maintain the innocence of Tinkerbelle, Minnie Mouse, and Casper, and not put them in peek-a-boo bras and 6-inch stilettos? Thanks.

I just wish people stayed true to character. Last I checked, detectives don’t wear fishnets — that is, of course, unless they’re on Cinemax between the hours of 11 at night and 2 in the morning. I know, I know, after 364 days of wearing corporate casual blouses and slacks from Banana Republic, Christy is just dying to break free from her desk at Fidelity and put on that pair of navy blue sequined booty shorts and that strategically un-buttoned, cleavage-revealing, badge-covered crop top, all so she can run around the city waving handcuffs in the air and flirting with the threat of frisking people.

Why even bother spending money on a costume? Really, just go totally naked to The Roxy’s “Monster Techno Bash”. It’s no different than going in rainbow pasties and panties, putting on a red nose, and calling yourself a clown. (Seriously, I’ve seen a slutty clown before, and trust me: the words “slutty” and “clown” don’t belong anywhere near one another.)

It’s not just the girls who turn into Hallow-whores, either. There are plenty of creepy guys wearing surgical masks and “Trust Me, I’m A Gynecologist” T-shirts, ready, willing, and able to give a free “exam” to that fully grown woman dressed as Dora the Explorer.

Oh, Halloween. I just miss the times we used to share. I miss wearing those uncomfortable plastic masks, with the little mouth hole that would always cut my lip, while I carried my big plastic pumpkin full of the “poisoned” candy that my mother was too scared to let me eat.

Look, I don’t want to come across as some stuffy gal who’s afraid of booty shorts. (Sometimes I love showing off my goods.) But does every costume have to be adapted into a slutty version? On any given day other than you, Halloween, a girl in even the most slightly revealing of an outfit is likely to be harassed by any number of pathetic pigs who feel entitled to cat-call women. But just one day a year, we’re allowed to be scantily dressed. We can show off our curves. We can wear whatever we want and not feel like we stand out as “the slut” because everyone around us is dressed like a slut, too. It’s quite invigorating to go out in next to nothing. But come November 1st, those slut dreams are shattered and we’re forced to fall back in line with conservative norms.

Anyhoo, Halloween, I’m glad you’re here. I look forward to seeing hundreds of people dressed in various eras of Michael Jackson costumes, since that seems to be everyone’s “original” idea this year. I bet someone will show up as a slutty Michael Jackson, wearing a red leather jacket, a silver glove, and nothing else but a smile. (More so, a half smile, since damn! Slutty MJ gonna be cold).

On that note, I’m off to sew together my bikini made of babydolls so I can complete my Octomom outfit. (Sorry, my slutty Octomom outfit.)

Love Always,


Copyright 2009 Shoestring, LLC.