Halloween Costumes

When I was a kid, I loved Halloween. By the time I'd gotten down to the dregs of my candy haul, which took almost a month thanks to my parents' obnoxious insistence on "moderation," my brain was teeming with ideas for next year's costumes. The serious stages of costume design started as early as June when my mom and I would check out patterns and fabric at the craft store.
Even from a young age, I remember having nothing but disdain for the lack of creativity and shoddy craftsmanship inherent in store bought costumes. Halloween was paradise for a feedback junkie like me. It was a chance to show the neighbors how clever I was, not to mention my mother's more than adequate seamstress abilities. Parading from door to door delivered more than mere candy.  It was about the wonderful, condescending tone that accompanied the inevitable, "Well, if it isn't a little _____." No matter how cold, itchy, awkward, or uncomfortable a costume might be, that shred of recognition made it worthwhile. God forbid any idiotic adult should be foolish enough to utter, "What are you supposed to be?"
Unfortunately, Halloween just isn't as fun as it used to be. Unlimited year-round access to candy takes all the "fun" out of fun-sized Snickers, and I've finally given up on trick-or-treating. I was able to push it further than is socially acceptable, well up into my high school years, by pretending that it was ironic, but once you're 23 it's just not okay to go door to door in a costume anymore. It doesn't matter what holiday it is.
Sure, there is the "Halloween for adults" 6th Street pub crawl, but fighting a crowd for cheap beer lacks the mystery and innocence of true trick-or-treating. Instead of crossing my fingers and hoping for a king size candy bar, I cross my legs in the epic bathroom line and hope the guy dressed like Will Ferrel doesn't pick a fight to impress the Playboy bunny on his arm.
The downtown Austin crowd has never been particularly modest, but somehow the Jager damaged set has managed to translate "wear a costume" into "show more cleavage." Female outfits run the alphabet, starting with Slutty Alien and ending with Busty Zebra.
Guys aren't much better. Lucy In Disguise supplies higher quality fare than the plastic Power Rangers masks that irked me as child, but Halloween costumes should be about creativity, not putting a cleaning deposit on your credit card. Those that really put in the effort to construct something elaborate or wear something uncomfortable end up as the loser robot who can't sit down at a party where the other dudes just went with a fake mustache.
New Year's, Christmas, Thanksgiving, even Columbus Day, all warrant a day off from work, but All Hallow's Eve gets bupkis if its unlucky enough to land on a week night. For most of my adult life, Halloween has been a half-assed event, curtailed by inconvenient early morning work schedules. The times when I've managed to make it out of the house, there's too much competition from rival parties, and the night devolves into an endless quest for the truly happening scene.
Alternately overcrowded and sparsely attended, Halloween parties present too many options, making it hard to decide between that rumored rager and your desperate co-worker's little get together. Thankfully this year's Halloween falls on a Saturday, making that night the de facto choice for revelry.
A Halloween unlucky enough to land on a Tuesday can mean partying across the weekend until finally, the night itself arrives.  Even an extremely well made costume is starting to show wear and tear by that point.
Rather than going out on the town to drink with the zombie Michael Jacksons and overweight Brunos, I'd prefer to spend this Halloween at home this year. If I didn't live in West Campus, where pumpkins get smashed and decorations get trashed, I could happily sit on my porch with a mug of hot cider, a slice of pie, and big bowl of candy bars. When the youngsters approached, I would sound as sincere as humanly possible whilst saying, "Well, aren't you a darling little Hannah Montana."
The kids who were smart enough to compliment my costume would be rewarded with a king size candy bar.