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Volume CXXXII, Number 6 |
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Halloween, make-believe, and the masks we wear
LARA JACOBS
COLUMNIST
Apple bobbing with Dracula teeth, four foot tall pirates and princesses skipping across lawns of crunchy leaves, a cat's tail peeking out from underneath a winter coat, blood, gore, M&Ms, and mini Milky Ways, all culminate in the infamous "Trick or Treat".
Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, because it never lets you down. What you expect-candy, dressing up, pumpkin carving, are what you get-no complications. My family spent every Halloween up in Beaver Creek, Colorado, and each year I went through months of analysis before selecting the perfect costume.
In September I planned on a bunch of grapes, purple balloons attached to my body; but by early October, they had metamorphosed into the Little Mermaid, who in turn evolved into a last minute Eskimo, due to a sharp temperature drop and unexpected snowstorm October 30.
Speaking of weather, it never fails that the more scantily clad you are-the fourth grade red flapper dress comes to mind-the greater the chances for unexpected snow, hail, or ice storms. Who can forget the year I bounced down the hotel's icy steps, seriously denting the corner of my human Christmas present ensemble?
Nonetheless, my Halloween experience went beyond dressing up. Carving pumpkins, my masterpiece being a very orange and very lopsided Marilyn Monroe, was a must, as well as transforming cookie dough into orange-frosted pumpkins, black bats with licorice antennas, and green Frankensteins with red-hot eyes and chocolate sprinkle hair.
However, my favorite part of October 31 came after the carving contests, cookie eating, chocolate gorging and candy counting were completed. Just when it seemed the festivities were over, as the temperature dropped and the stars came out, we huddled on wooden logs around a giant bonfire-wicked witch squeezed between Dorothy and Batman-roasting marshmallows and anticipating the ghost story.
Although it was the same story every year, we still gasped in mock horror each time the "phantom" appeared at the dark window of the fifth floor of the hotel.
We screamed in pretend fright as he descended the side of the building, knowing full well that he would end up being friendly just like last year, and the five years before that-a ritual we had come to expect almost as much as the trick or treating itself.
Waking up November 1, the rich smoky smell of the fire still lingered on our Snow White dresses and Ninja Turtle jumpsuits, a tangible memory of an entire day of make-believe and of suspended reality.
Our costumes, draped over a chair, reflected not only who we wished we were-Spiderman, Alice in Wonderland, or Harry Potter, but parts of ourselves at that moment. Over the years, my costumes evolved from the Disney characters and princesses, to the scary vampires and ghosts, to the classic flapper or black cat. For one night we could be anyone or anything for that matter-all inhibitions vanishing as we put on our face paint and masks.
Whether or not you don Dracula teeth or a tiara this Halloween, on October 31, as with every other day of the year, we automatically put on masks when get out of bed each morning.
Depending on which costume we pull of the closet, we decide which persona to enact-confident, contemplative, athletic or dramatic. No longer a princess or a pirate, our costume choices are subtler and less clearly defined.
Ultimately, however, the face we show to the world depends on which mask we assume. Perhaps Halloween, and the costumes of childhood, are not quite so removed from our daily lives after all.