I’ve always considered Halloween a night of ultimate creation. Okay, I get it. Some girls are into the whole “wear minimal clothing because it’s the one day a year that it’s allowed” thing. It’s not really my style. First of all, Halloween is FREEZING. Every year. It’s always the same. If I’m going to be walking around outside in sub zero temperatures, I want to be warm and comfortable. That’s just my way of thinking, but I totally I comprehend the appeal to being a “sexy” [insert random occupation here.]
Some of these occupations I’ve tracked down include:
If you’ve been a sexy garbage collector, I don’t know if I should be impressed or sort of weirded out.
I put a lot of thought into what I’m going to be for Halloween every year, and I usually have a lot of fun coming up with my idea. This past Halloween, Blake and I were the most convincing Mary Poppins and Bert you’ve ever seen, winning the couples costume contest in which we had to stand before a crowd of extremely intoxicated dressed up humans. I carried a long handled umbrella, and hand glued the flowers on my hat. Blake carried a spray painted broom (aka chimney sweep), and allowed me to smudge black eyeshadow all over his face (aka chimney soot).
Through the ever so accurate crowd call we were inevitably announced “best dressed couple.”
I’m not going to lie, the guys who rented the Dumb and Dumber costumes totally had my vote, but we had our eyes on the prize…A little plastic trophy that said “Best Couple” on it. Boo ya! We realized later they accidentally gave us the trophy for “Scariest Costume”. Womp.
Junior year in college my roommates and I took a trip to the mall to check out the Halloween store, which was filled with [insert sexy occupation costumes.] I stumbled across a Heath Ledger inspired “Joker” costume from “The Dark Knight.”
I glanced longingly over at the less cool women’s section of the Halloween store, and then back at the Joker costume. After rifling through the costumes and realizing even a small in men’s wouldn’t fit me (despite the fact that I snack more than a pregnant lady, I’m kind of teensy) I also realized that the store bought version of the Joker was incredibly tacky.
It was also $70.00. In college, that was equivalent to beer for six weeks, or 70 slices of pizza when the off campus pizza joint decided to start selling “dollar slices.”
When you’re twenty one, they are equivalent in their importance. I can confidently say that now I would take the seventy slices of pizza…
I left the store empty handed and my roommates and I HAYY-GIRL-HAYY’ed our way to Forever21, where it was possible by a $10.00 shirt and wear it once. The first thing I saw when I walked into the store was a purple pea coat. I turned to one of my room mates and said, “THAT is going to be my Joker coat.”
And so…The Joker costume was born.
The eve of Halloween fell on a Thursday, and because we ALL know that Halloween lasts for three days in college, I had three days of Halloween fun to look forward do. We decided to rally for a Thursday night Halloween party. After my last class of the day, I rushed home to put together my brilliant costume. I soon realized I had a purple pea coat, black skinny jeans, and tall black boots…AND THAT’S ALL! I don’t know if you’ve watched the movie, but the Joker has more going on than a purple coat, black skinny jeans, and boots. Actually, I don’t think he wears tall black boots at all, but stick with me. With only a few hours until my roommates and I ventured off into the night, I rushed to Wal-Mart and bought green fabric from the clearance section on a whim. After constructing a green vest by hand and borrowing a tie from a friend, the only thing I had left to worry about was hair and “make-up.”
First of all, I should have been a hair dresser.
My hair became the self inflicted victim of thirty minutes of intense teasing, gelling, and doing that thing where you tip your head upside-down and blast it with a blow dryer. I went through three cans of green temporary hair dye and broke a black fine tooth comb before I was satisfied with the hue and frizz level of my long locks.
Second of all, I should under no circumstance EVER be allowed to be a professional make-up artist. EVER. If you’ve been following along on the blog I’m sure you’ve heard my make up woes by now, but let’s just say that most days I prefer to go au natural. Unfortunately, without make up the whole Jokercapade would have fallen apart, so I busted out the face paint and boogied on down.
In all seriousness, if I actually attempted to create that whole smoky eye look that some girls are pros at creating, I’d end up looking like the Joker anyway, so I was definitely able to focus on the task at hand.
Nearly getting attacked by a scared terrier on my way to the party an hour later, was confirmation that I had succeeded in created the look properly.
Fast forward to Friday morning (because remember, this all took place on Thursday night) and I was lying in bed well aware that my alarm had been going off for ten minutes, and that karma had cursed me with an 8am class. I debated skipping class and using one of my absence freebies, but I managed to drag myself out of bed. It was my only class of the day, so I tried to let that motivate me. I realized it was 7:50, and my class was about a ten minute walk from my apartment, so I made a mad dash to get dressed and out the door. I pulled my hair into a pony tail, threw on a Red Sox hat, and practically sprinted out the door grabbing my backpack on the way.
You know when you get that feeling that people may or may not be laughing at you, but you put your head down and power walk to your destination in hopes that perhaps the girl behind you is wearing something funny, or that the dude on the skateboard face planted.
Well there was no may or may not in this situation. People WERE giggling at me, and after pulling the baseball hat down over my eyes, I made my way swiftly to class.
Upon walking into class I noticed the same response from my peers as I did from the random strangers I had passed on campus. Class was remarkably empty, only ten to twelve people had actually showed up after the first night of Halloween celebrations. I took off my baseball hat and my professor eyed me curiously as he handed me a blank sheet of paper.
“Miss Barton, it’s nice to see you’re in the Halloween Spirit.” He announced. There was a hint of sarcasm and satisfaction in his voice.
“Welp, it IS my favorite day of the year.” I responded. “May I please excuse myself?”
“I suggest that you do.” The class laughed as I stood up and bolted to the bathroom.
It felt like somebody had played a practical joke on me. White face paint was still caked all over my face, accompanied by smudged heavy black circles around both of my eyes and a crusting off bright red devilish smile.
The worst part of it all? The hair.
The bright green hair pulled back in the low ponytail.
I’m not sure what is worse, the fact that I assumed I had washed my hair and face after the Halloween party, or the fact that I had woken up late and completely forgotten that I still looked like the Joker. Maybe it’s a true testament to the fact that I care so little about applying makeup in everyday life, because I literally tied my hair up, threw on a baseball hat, and left my apartment without even so much as acknowledging my own reflection in a mirror.
I attempted to wash my face in the bathroom but plain water wouldn’t do the trick, I was going to have to wait until I was able to get my hands on a bottle of face wash and a face cloth. I returned to class and endured the ultimate walk of shame as every set of eyes glanced up from their papers. I took my seat and my professor began explaining what we’d be doing in class for the day.
“We are answering Monday’s exam questions in class today, so anybody who decided to come to class will have the correct answers for the exam. Anybody who chose to not come to class will not have these answers.”
Needless to say, as embarrassing as it was showing up to class unknowingly still in full hair and makeup from the previous night’s Halloween party, I did a little victory dance inside my head for deciding to get out of bed.
Green hair and all.