While road tripping with some friends this summer, I stumbled upon a Halloween superstore along the Delaware coast. The abandoned strip-mall storefront it occupied was filled with plastic accessories, wigs, make-up kits and two walls that were literally covered in costumes. While there was nothing clever or original about the costume selections for women (sexy leprechaun, sexy firefighter, et cetera), the options for men ran the gamut from Sasquatch to Sherlock Holmes, hot dogs to mustard bottles (there was even an adult baby costume, complete with large diaper and bottle).
Indeed, the sexualized consumerism of women’s Halloween costumes has created an environment in which witty costumes are overlooked in favor of pre-packaged, overpriced getups. I long for the return of the witty costume, the well-played pop culture reference and stage makeup monsters.
I think risqué Halloween costumes are popular because there is a certain measure of safety inherent in them. One girl dressed as an angel in a mini-skirt normally would stand out in a crowd full of zombies and vampires, but now she is just part of a crowd teeming with sexy outfits.
On Halloween weekend, our campus was overrun by girls dressed in sexualized conceptions of traditional costumes: Policewomen, nurses, angels, witches and even pumpkins were made sexy this year. The trend seems explainable if we were to accept that college-age women may be repressed and yearn for the one night a year they can let their inner harlot out. But, we don’t live in a heavily repressed society; in fact, the girl sitting next to me as I write this is reading sex tips in Cosmo in a very public and busy location. Sex is not surprising to us anymore, and the titillation of a short skirt and a flash of exposed bra seems almost tame compared to what can be found on TV these days.
Halloween is not some great exception to the rule; many of the costumes I saw were no more revealing than what most people wear out to clubs or bars. Maybe it’s the idea of subverting the norm that is appealing to all of the French maids and devils wandering the streets, but I definitely can’t justify spending money on a pre-made costume just so I can look like a sexy Minnie Mouse for an evening.
A good costume (i.e., not a scantily clad nurse) has the same effect as a well-phrased Facebook status – it lets people know we are witty and pop-culturally savvy. A costume bought at Target might let people know you have good legs, but it doesn’t say anything about your personality or your intelligence. We now have a little under a year to find something interesting to dress up as; personally, I’m hoping someone will get pregnant and cause a scandal so I can pull out the belly-stuffing techniques I developed for my Bristol Palin costume last year.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t come up with any culturally relevant looks this year (I figured Balloon Boy would be overdone, and let’s face it, no one wants to see me wear a Kate Gosselin wig). My solution, and the answer for most Halloween issues, is the great purveyor of sexy hipster clothing, American Apparel. Instead of being a short-skirted librarian or a fairy, I went with an American Apparel leotard, jeans and motorcycle boots, claiming that I was a contestant on the VH1 reality show “Rock of Love.” Judging by the crowds at the store’s Georgetown location in the days leading up to Halloween, I wasn’t the only one who took advantage of this middle ground between clever and physically appealing – the easiest way to express personality and humor while maintaining the spirit of a grossly sexualized Halloween.
Whitney McAniff is a sophomore in the College. The 52 Percent appears every other Tuesday.
