So as you sit back in your cubicle and occasionally rub off some of that cheap Wal-Greens face makeup you missed in the shower while eating some mini-Snickers, we here at the Mixtape like to indulge in a our own What We Did For Halloween mixtape as we chart the various highs and blessed absences of lows as we encountered Demon Barbers, sassy 1960s secretaries, and even our own fair-skinned doppelganger. We were snatching ghosts that night, honey.
Let's be honest: Halloween costumes are essentially the one night stands of ensembles. They are usually something you wouldn't ordinarily like or necessarily be into, but your sense of adventure overwhelms your other, more rational thought processes so you spend the night with them, gallivanting from one party to the next, taking photos and usually ending the night in a big drunken heap on a floor, bed or futon, only to be reminded of your brief night together through stories from your friends and Facebook photos. At least 50 percent of the time you wish you had chosen otherwise.
So it's a delicate process to choose one's Halloween costume and this year, as per usual, I had waited to the utmost last second to piece together something. I went traipsing around seemingly the whole entirety of the Tri-State area including several Good Wills, a Salvation Army and the UW-L Costume Shop Halloween Sale Bonanza but alas:
After much searching, I talked to my friend and mall buddy Emily and the idea was sprung to go as our mutual friend Steve or more narrowly, go as Steve's character in The Muse Theatre's production of Sweeney Todd. Amazing idea being amazing, I set out to find a pair of plaid pants and a leather coat to match his steampunk inspired ensemble.
And meanwhile, a whole host of my male friends were finding dresses, shoes and makeup because on Halloween:
With plaid pants, goggles and leather coat in order, I trudged off to meet my friend Grant for the last night of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. Nothing quite says good ole family entertainment like rape, murder, and inappropriate relations. It warms one's heart.
And nothing puts one in the mood for gorging on a whole array of food quite like a show devoted to cannibalism by way of meat pies as everybody consumed more than their fair share of pigs in a blanket as well as a variety of other foods while participating in our version of the Soul Train dance line, which wonderfully erred on the side of trainwreck than soulful, while Harry Belafonte played.
Downtown La Crosse was pretty much a sea of 1980s characters, Snookies, zombies, GaGas and an assortment of slutty ensembles because:
Who knew at a gay bar that men dressing up with faux 13 inch penises would be the rage as per usual? Shocking.
The night ended with yours truly departing long before bartime because a steampunk hat with goggles may be somewhat cute but is absolute murder on the forehead. And as I tried to scrub the eyeliner off my face, I smiled a bit. For a holiday that it is all about being somebody else, something different from one's self, it was a great pleasure to have spent the weekend with people who make you feel the exact opposite of that, that allow you to be exactly who you are at all times. No matter how scary that can be sometimes.