Welcome to Halloween, the holiday that (at least in the US) has developed from Puritan horror to childhood candy splurge to adult party excuse. (Note: I am not talking about the pagan Samhain or the Mexican Day of the Dead — these festivals should be acknowledged in their own right and not just as versions of US halloween.)

I grew up in the childhood candy splurge years, which held their own horrors — rumors of needles and razor blades and poison slipped into candies — mostly untrue — led my mother to ban trick-or-treating by the time I was six. Instead, my family went out to eat in our Halloween costumes, which meant I celebrated the adult Halloween as a child, only without alcohol.

I actually love the adult Halloween, because it gives me the opportunity to dress in silly costumes now that I’m too old to trick-or-treat. I don’t find this overly childish — or any more childish than I was when I asked the Christmas Fairy in the Walnut Room at Marshall Fields to grant me a wish. After all, masquerade balls have existed since the 1500’s in European culture, and no doubt in other cultures as well.  We must feel a need to be someone — or something — else, an alter-ego to the person we are.

Today I’m dressing as Lauren, a limited edition Beanie Baby cat, complete with tag and Comic Sans jingle:

I am Lauren,
I’m a cat.
There is nothing
wrong with that!

I often dress up as cats. I have dressed up as my cat Kitty; a playful cat with Richard as Responsible Cat Owner to collect pet goodies for the Humane Society, and now as a Beanie Baby.

The Writer as a Beanie Baby

I don’t wear “sexy” costumes — like sexy firemen, sexy cops, sexy robbers, sexy schoolgirls, sexy Little Red Riding Hood … I have no problems with the fantasies running around in your heads — or my head — but sexual fantasies don’t translate well to real life, and they translate even worse to Halloween costumes. These costumes happen to be cheap mass merchandise store purchases rather than quality cosplay costumes, and render sexy as “cheap and tawdry”.  I once donned a cat-in-a-miniskirt-and-fishnet-tights costume just before sneaking out of a departmental Halloween party in grad school. (Casimir Ihe, if you’re reading this, I remember you said, “Jesus Christ, what the Hell is THAT?!”)

 There might be a reason for “sexy” costumes, though — maybe today’s sexual fantasies are yesterday’s ghosts, spirits we are frightened of and try to control, to subdue. The erotic, after all, has been a frightening force since hunter-gathers shifted into agricultural, then feudal, then industrial society — as long as paternity has been an issue, because Eros disrupts family lineage. The ancient Greeks, who came up with the word Eros, viewed erotic love as a force that led to insanity and tragedy. So some people find “safe” ways to play with Eros, by putting on costumes on Halloween that allow them to indulge sexiness without consequences. as some people find “safe” ways to play with Eros in real life by having fantasies of sexy firefighters (Nope, not my fantasy), or by dressing in fantasy tropes like red dresses and Lolicon cosplay.

Whatever your costume, Happy Halloween!

And NO, I am NOT a furry, nor do I have sexual fantasies involving cats.