I do love a good play on words.
Let me start by saying that I like the idea of Halloween. I love Fall (as long as you don’t make me rake leaves), I like the crisp air and smell of wood-burning fires that always seems to go along with it. I like woodsy candle scents. I like apple pies and changing colors and all that good stuff. I like candy. I like the idea of trick-or-treating (especially for little kids) and of pumpkin carving, but when it comes down to actually doing it, I just am… unenthused.
I don’t actively push back against trick-or-treating (except this year because #COVID), and I can’t wait to take my own little goblin out and about when she’s old enough to know what she’s doing. I just think that fairly early on, I decided that I was not a huge fan of going up to doors and asking adults for candy, and when I was a teenager and my friends still wanted to trick-or-treat, I adopted the role of group mom, standing at the end of the driveway waiting for them to come back. Picture a 13-year-old doing that – I think it was probably pretty funny. At the time, I really didn’t mind. I wanted to be part of the group, but I genuinely wanted no part of the actual trick-or-treating. It was a good compromise.
All of this is not to say, however, that I don’t enjoy a good Halloween costume. In fact, I love a good costume – any time of year, doesn’t have to be Halloween (dress-up is the best), but there’s something extra-special about Halloween costumes. Now, let me be very clear: we are a spooky, hand-made costume family. I wasn’t a princess or a movie star until late elementary school and even then, it was because I found a fancy dress I wanted to wear. Eventually (college), I did participate in a “Halloweekend” three-costumes-for-three-parties fiasco that included an Olive Penderghast number and (I think) a “sexy firefighter,” because what’s scarier than exposed skin around open flames?! Those were the exceptions, though. Most recently, Rick and I donned skeleton onesies (with pockets!) and went to an actual grown-up party, at which we were absolutely the comfiest, but also probably the sweatiest.
The two coziest skeletons you ever did see. 
The reality of the party: hiding in the bathroom taking selfies because #socialanxiety.
Given that this year, Halloween will look a little different for everyone, I wanted to go on a little walk down memory lane and explore some of the costumes of my youth. If nothing else, I gave myself a chuckle looking back.
For many years, my costume of choice was A Scary Witch. In fact, I was pretty surprised to flip through old photo albums and see the variety of costumes represented – the most memorable ones to me are absolutely the witch costumes, of which there were many (made both for me and for my sisters, sometimes overlapping). In my opinion, there are two key elements for a successfully Scary Witch costume – a flowy dress (ideally adorned with spiders and/or sequins) and a good pointy witch hat. The hat is very important.
When I was in second grade, there were about seven witches in my class, but I had the best costume. I’ve inserted a picture to the right (or above/below depending on where you’re reading this). Note the felt appliqués crafted by my mom and the well-sized hat. For the class party, I didn’t bother with makeup (honestly, I’m not sure we were allowed – we only had a short time to change into our costumes in the bathroom after recess, before the party started). Later on in the evening, I covered my cheeks with green eyeshadow, for that witchy-skin look. Also, I’m not entirely sure what shoes these are (clogs? I think almost certainly they were from the Bass Outlet store, because that looks about right), but I appreciate that I seem to have adopted the witches-wear-square-toed-shoes truth – I am nothing if not devoted to the authenticity of my craft.
I resurrected the witch costume a number of additional times (and I had worn it at least a couple of times before). By high school, I was perhaps a saucier witch, but you’ll note that all the important elements remain: flowy dress, sequins (belt), and an excellent hat. To be honest, that could be the same hat. They’re an important staple of the dress-up collection in my parents’ basement.
There were, however, other costumes over the years – cat, miscellaneous cloaked figure, some sort of Cruella de Ville-but-not (because to this day I have not seen 101 Dalmatians), but I can say that without a doubt my crowning achievement was the year that I announced that I wanted to go as a Slug Queen. I have no recollection of why, if there was any reason other than to think it would be appropriately spooky. I do vaguely remember going to the fabric store to select the correct brown felt, so that my mom could whip me up a costume, complete with pipe-cleaner antennae (she says that was my idea) and a trailing bit of slime (her idea). I popped on a tiara sourced from my sister’s dance costume stockpile, and I was ready to roll slither. I think I spent a lot of time answering questions about my costume, but people probably just chuckled at me. It didn’t matter, I felt great. Still hands-down my favorite lewk of all time.
I held my breath and Googled “slug queen” before I wrote this, just to make sure I wasn’t going to be inadvertently associating myself with some scary part of the internet. I discovered that a SLUG Queen is, in fact, a thing. According to Wikipedia (because I’m an adult now and I can use Wikipedia as a source, so there), the queen is “a humorous character concept considered to be the unofficial goodwill ambassador of the city of Eugene, Oregon.” I highly recommend both the aforementioned Wikipedia article and a browse through the official SLUG Queen website, which lists and profiles each and every Queen since 1983. While, in general, the SLUG Queen costumes are less directly related to an actual slug (some would argue mine is a little derivative, I suppose), I can’t help but to appreciate the spirit and commitment of the whole event. This is one of those times that a somewhat suspect Google search really paid off.
This year, Rick and I will once again be donning our skeleton onesies, but we’ll have an extra little skeleton with us. We’ll snuggle up at home, having carved no pumpkins and with no plans to trick-or-treat. We’ll give the neighbor kids (who plan to be a fighter jet pilot and a scary monster) some candy and then eat the rest ourselves. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to see our zombie princess niece. All in all, sounds like the perfect Halloween to me. Happy Halloween, fellow witches!
Hickmans at Home 