Two years ago, when I was a naïve freshman excited for my first Kent Halloween, I told my friend I wanted to go as Superman’s alias Clark Kent.
“Omg,” she typed on AIM. “You’re supposed to wear something slutty.”
Apparently, I never got that memo. The whole idea of being “sexy” on a day devoted to ghouls, goblins and candy was utterly ridiculous to me. So I said “fuck you” to the rack of sexy costumes staring me in the face, and decided to go as Penny Lane from “Almost Famous.” I loved it. Even though no one else knew who I was, I didn’t care. I was my favorite character from my favorite movie. Plus, while the stupid drunk girls were freezing their asses off in their sexy costumes, I was drunk and warm in my fur coat that I bought for ten dollars at a local thrift store.
Last year I decided to join the crowd and opted for the sexy costume. I went as a French maid, complete with an apron and fishnets. Not to sound like a totally cocky bitch, but I looked and felt hot. Something about wearing a costume that would give my father a heart attack felt liberating. That is until the cold set in and the alcohol wore off. Then I was just another cold, stupid girl in a slutty outfit.
This year, I’m going to pass on the sexy trend. I give those girls credit though. They take weeks to plan their outfits and they shell out at least $50 for a costume they will never wear again. (Another unspoken rule of Halloween: Never repeat a costume.) Well good for them. They deserve a round of applause. Or maybe some heated panty hose so they don’t freeze their asses off. I’m going as Janis Joplin this year. I don’t have to buy anything for the costume. I’ve been trying to be Janis since I started wearing my mom’s turquoise jewelry in high school. Maybe next year I’ll do the sexy thing again, but I’m doing it my own way. Maybe sexy Britney Spears after she shaved her head and took a baseball bat to a car. Or maybe sexy coke addict. Kate Moss, anyone?
