Best Homemade Costume: Whoo, Me?

I always liked Halloween as a kid, despite its dogged determination to make me feel fabulously inadequate every year. Some of my fondest memories of creative childhood challenges (or sweatshop practices) involve fashioning homemade costumes for dress-up day at school, inevitably ending in a disappointing barrage of awards that I didn’t win (Prettiest, Scariest, Funniest) and only one that I did: Best Homemade Costume. One year, I covered a new TV box (we finally tossed the one with the big knobs and fuzzy screen) with almost an entire pack of construction paper so that I could be a Rubik's Cube for Halloween. Underneath the cardboard magnificence, I wore a red turtleneck and tights that snagged and ran before Noon. I couldn’t sit down the entire day, because I couldn’t take off the box without everyone seeing my Strawberry Shortcake underwear. All this for Best Homemade Costume, which I won by clear default. They could have, at the very least, called it Most Creative. That same year, my brother Colin dressed up like a Picnic, draping a tablecloth over a remnant of the same box (with a hole cut out for the head), setting his makeshift table with mismatched plastic silverware, chintz napkins and Styrofoam plates. I believe he dominated the same category.

While others donned pretty frilly store-bought numbers with perfect pin-curl wigs (a splendid Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz comes to mind) or one-dimensional TV cartoon character outfits that covered only the front half of the body and came with plastic masks (Rainbow Bright! Can you imagine?!), our family was an early adapter of the DIY movement. In retrospect, it gave me an appreciation for doing things myself, my way. It made me think and dream and cut and paste. All the planning and crafting and assembling (more fun than trick-or-treating!) planted the seed for my current distaste for the way we have made even the simplest of childhood pleasures an exercise in heady consumerism. Why make a costume when you can buy one? Why use your imagination when Disney has already done it for you? Poor kids.

This year Cass was an owl—a fitting costume considering it’s the only animal noise he’ll make on a semi-regular basis. I made the costume by hand. I don’t sew well but it was a fun project, and I was mildly proud of my efforts (OK, I was ecstatic...he was so cute...i was gushing and snapping photos and drinking in the adorableness). I also realize that next year or the year after, Cass might ask to be something quite specific, robbing me of my coveted Art Director role. He’ll be influenced by his environment and peers and Disney movies. Someday, gasp!, he won’t even want his mom making his Halloween costumes anymore. I hope we have the fortitude to do what my parents did, even if it embarrasses him a little bit. And I hope he wins Best Homemade Costume every year, even if it’s by default.

But before I get ahead of myself, check him out—in all his winged glory. He had an absolute blast. And I suppose that’s really what it’s all about.

Halloween 07: Hoo Hoo