We need them. These hall-passes, little slips into a different life. Some of us stay there, others just need a refresher to allow us to step back into our own lives with renewed energy. And yet, the older we grow, the more secretive our furtive getaways become. When we were little, we had no trouble playing cowboys or astronauts and announcing to the world who we are and what they may call us.
But we get progressively more shy. And quiet. Soon enough, we think better of telling even our close friends that we're feeling ill at ease in our own lives. It seems a shame.
My point is, it's nice sometimes to be someone else for a little while. It's why I love Halloween. Not quite a slasher film aficionado and certainly not prone to gourmandising sugar-filled candy, I've never the less always loved Halloween. I do think we should take these sometimes "silly" excuses to celebrate our existence and break out of the mundane.
Personally, I take any chance I get. And of course, there's nothing remotely silly about Samhain, the original holiday still observed by many, that served as a basis for the Halloween we know. Then again, I recognize myself in many of the aspects of "witchcraft", the otherness and the soothing cradle of nature. The talking shit about you with the Devil. That sort of thing.
But most of all, I love Halloween because it gives me an 'excuse' to decorate and dress up. I love doing both.
And yet, over the weekend, I caught myself getting old. We'd agreed to go to a Halloween festival, the West Side HalloFest, overlooking a lake (Lacul Morii) here in Bucharest. I wasn't all that excited, to be honest. There were a couple of acts I wanted to catch, but was just going through the motions. The first night, I went as my plain old self (which is okay, I lean rock and grunge, so look half the part anyway when I wanna). But as we got closer to the venue, I was surprised to find the streets thronged with people in costume.
And I mean full Halloween get-up. People who went all out. With an attendance of 20k people (est.) the first night, the lake isle and the streets leading up to it were filled with exciting costumes - undead brides and fake blood. People had really allowed their creativity to flow. There were many a Tim Burton character walking around, and countless other characters from our childhood like Shrek. Killer clowns. Jack the Pumpkin Kings.
I was delighted, but suddenly felt a little silly. How did I not think to dress up for a Halloween party? Obviously, there were people there in plain get-up, too. But I don't wanna be one of those. So I promised myself I'd make an effort for the next night and spent a bit of Sunday crafting an outfit.
I already had my Halloween costume for the day itself, and I'd spent a good deal of time crafting that, but luckily, I had a list of throwaways around, ideas I'd played with and rejected.
I'd wanted to go as someone from Terry Pratchett's Discworld series, except the characters I wanted (the Librarian or Archchancellor Ridcully, probably my favorite character of the series) would've been expensive to do properly. So I'd ditched the idea. Then yesterday, feeling pressed, I figured wait a minute. I've got a witch hat at my mom's place from previous Halloweens. Got black clothes a-plenty. All I needed was some old lady make-up...
...which I think came out pretty well, especially considering that I didn't spend more than 10 minutes on it. And I was good to go. My grandmother's glasses were a trip as they kept messing with my vision and I had to wear them on the tip of my nose to not get dizzy, but all in all, it was great.
I love this picture. Can't you hear the cackling?
In dance, I find these occasions to play and let loose frequently. Likewise, in writing. But dressing up and letting others see you dressed up is an exercise a bit outside my comfort zone when it comes to playing. Which is all the more reason to practice it occasionally.
