I’m a big Halloween hater, for those of you who don’t know. The closest I have come to dressing up in the last six years was my first year in Jacksonville, and Julie and Jill (and Ashley too, maybe?) were coming into town for our Florida-Georgia party. They gave me an ultimatum–dress up, or we’re not coming. So I wore a white shirt with a gold star pinned onto the lapel and called myself a cowgirl. That is about the height of my Halloween festivity.
I truly do hate to dress up in costumes, and it all dates back to my freshman year in college. Rachel and I dressed up as shooting stars–all black attire with gold stars stapled all over, armed with water guns. [I know, right? Creative! But you don’t know me very well if you think I had any part in coming up with that idea.] Anyway, if you’ve never been to Chapel Hill on Hallween, it’s an absolute madhouse. Unless you like being pressed up against drunk sweaty people you don’t know, in which case, this might be heavenly. But when I think of my own personal nightmare, this is it.
Anyway, I don’t actually remember anything truly horrible happening that night (other than bumping into drunk sweaty people, which, while disgusting, is not quite traumatic), but whereas before I had no particular affinity or aversion to the holiday, after 1996 Halloween officially became a Thing I Hate.
Needless to say, I have not been overly enthused about dressing Mary Bullock up for Halloween this year (my dressing up is not even a question, but I hated to poop her party, you know?). But that was before I came up with The Costume. It’s brilliant, I think. Simple, lovely, all composed of attire that we actually own and will wear again!
I can’t tell you what it is yet because I don’t want to ruin the surprise. But I will give you a hint: